Snippet #1634737

A kettle was warming up nicely on the stove, as the March Hare rested peacfully among the many books and papers that flooded his house to the brim. He'd pushed a large pile of important papers to the ground in order to sit down in one of the more comfortable chairs, where he'd almost fallen asleep. There were many minutes until the kettle would be ready. He sighed tiredly and sank deeper into the chair, wondering if he could simply disappear into it.

"Jesus saint of all the bloody CHRISTS! Who the bloody hell just shot at me?"

Jonathan was brought out of his train of thought as someone screamed - presumably at someone else - not far away from his door. Listening intently for more, he still startled when the second shout came, knocking the tea down on the floor from his lap. He made his way into the kitchen and picked up a large, black, frying pan from one of the closets. Slowly opening the several locks on his door, he then opened it slightly, peering out.

"Who's out there?" he growled. "If this is one of you sadistic psychopaths roaming my turf, I'll give you a piece of my frying pan as a souvenir! I swear by the heavens above, I'll roast the lot of you for my breakfast before I let you kill anything outside my very home!"