(Combined MWE and WWE challenge) Beastly Behaviour

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on August 10, 2013 0 Comments

Pam’s challenge: write us a pretty beastly story. 
Greg’s challenge: write a squabble.


“You’re an absolute beast, Pat!”

I looked across at her. Those big, brown eyes were wide open, her lower lip drooped just a little. She was looking for a fight, and nothing I could do or say was going to prevent it.

Whatever. I had a more pressing issue. I could feel my stomach rumbling, pressure building yet again. “Who even says that these days?” I replied. “Bastard, cretin, even total shit, perhaps, but beast?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and belched, long and loud.

“You beast!”

“Well, you married me.”

“I have no idea why.”

“Because you like a bit of rough. And now you’ve got it.”

“My mother told me from the beginning to stay away from you.”

“Well, your mother was eaten by a lion, so she didn’t always get it right.”

“You had to bring that up again, didn’t you!”

“Yeah, well my sort’ll do that.”

“She said to me, “Stay away from Wildebeests. They’ll only break your heart.” And she was right.”

“I’m not surprised. Your mother was always too bloody hoity-toity. All you bloody zebras are bloody hoity-toity. Don’t wanna mix with any but your own kind.” I could feel my stomach rumbling again. “Damn guinea grass. Always gives me gas when it’s flowering.”

“Don’t you dare do that again, Pat! Not at me, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. You and your lot, with all your stupid rules. Always eat the grass from the top down. Don’t eat the roots. Cough to the left. Belch to the right, always go downwind to fart. No bloody fun, the lot of you.”

“Those rules are there for a reason, Pat.”

“Yeah, so make you and your bloody kind feel like you’re better then everyone else. You’re not the royal bloody family, you know.”

“Would it kill you to try to better yourself?”

“It killed your bloody mother.”


I guessed that, perhaps, I had gone too far. “Look, I’m sorry love. That was mean.”

“Yes it was.”

“Tell you what, this winter we’ll migrate over to the mountains, shall we? You’ve been wanting to see your sister.”

She sniffled a little bit. “Really?”


“Well, that’s true.” she said. “She’s managed to get into the most amazing harem…”

“Harems.” I whispered. “And you call yourselves civilised.”

“What was that, dear?”

“Nothing, just mulling over that guinea grass.”

She giggled, just a little. “I do sometimes wonder what I saw in you.”

“You know what it was. You can’t stay away from the horns. Go on, babe, give ‘em a tickle. You know you want to.”

“Stop it!”

“Love you.”

“Pat,” it was half a whinny, half a whisper, “you’re such a beast.”

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