The Bad Fox -v0.9- -beachside | Bunnies-

He waited until high tide began to kiss the towel’s edge. Then, silent as a shadow in a flip-book, he crept forward. First, he swapped Pip’s flip-flop with a herring. Then, he wedged a whoopee cushion under Bruce’s beach chair. Finally—the masterstroke—he uncapped a tiny bottle labeled Eau de Coyote and spritzed it on the wind.

Bruce woke with a start, the whoopee cushion blasting like a foghorn. Pip shrieked at the fish on his foot. In seconds, the beach erupted: bunnies cannonballing into the surf, tripping over sandcastles, and—in one spectacular case—zipping Bruce into his own striped beach bag. The Bad Fox -v0.9- -Beachside Bunnies-

The salt air carried the scent of coconut oil and panic. He waited until high tide began to kiss the towel’s edge

Nick’s stomach growled. Not for rabbit meat. Version 0.9 ran on something sweeter: chaos . Then, he wedged a whoopee cushion under Bruce’s

The first sniff came from Lily. Her nose twitched. Her ears shot up.