Remix: Carrot Juice is Murder (Tiggers and Time Lords Remix) [Tigger & Ten, 637 Words, Rated G], by simplystars
It was just the kind of blustery day that Rabbit liked best. The autumn breeze was crisp and cool, the sky full of wispy clouds. Best of all, the air was redolent with the scent of ripe vegetables.
Rabbit loved harvest time. He felt great satisfaction in reaping the rewards of his usually solitary and always underappreciated labor, heaping his wheelbarrow (old and rickety and of course none of the others ever came 'round to help, no, not with planting or weeding or watering, but they'd be at his burrow in time to eat, wouldn't they?) high with lettuce, turnips, radishes - or carrots. Oh, the tiny little burst of joy he felt, each time he brushed away rich brown soil to expose a vibrant orange carrot underneath.
As Rabbit sat on his haunches, beaming with quiet pride at his garden, an odd rhythmic sound caught his attention.
It wasn't quite like the ching ching ching of Christopher Robin's bicycle bell, or the tick flap flap of its tires when he would attach playing cards to the spokes with wooden clothespins liberated from Kanga's wash-line. And it wasn't exactly the rattle and squeak squeak squeak of the old red wagon, whose wheels had gone too long without oiling.
Then the wind carried to his ears a halloo, followed by a chortle - both of which he had definitely (and unfortunately) heard before. Tigger!
"Oh no," Rabbit moaned, scampering over to his neat rows of carrots, so close to being safely harvested. "No, no, no!" Shifting from paw to paw, he looked anxiously from the wood to his root cellar, then back to the wood as the unfamiliar noise drew nearer, now harmonized by snatches of an all-too-familiar song.
Oh, the wonderful thing about Tiggers
Is Tiggers are wonderful things.
Their tops are made out of rubber;
Their bottoms are made out of springs!
Down the leaf-strewn path Tigger bounced, up-and-down and up-and-down on his curly corkscrew tail. "Halloooooo, Rabbit!" he called as he bounced in a circle around his companion, a gangly brown-haired man precariously perched on a strange metal contraption that scrunched and zip-zinged as the pair of them hopped right over Rabbit's head, Rabbit's fence, and into Rabbit's garden.
"STOP RIGHT THERE," Rabbit bellowed as he picked himself up out of the dust, where he'd sprawled out of self-preservation.
"Hullo Rabbit!" Tigger said again, happily ignoring Rabbit's pointed finger of dire warning. "This is my new friend, come bouncing with me."
"Lovely garden," the Man said, all knees and elbows crouching in the dirt (which matched his brown trousers and suit coat) to admire a pumpkin. "You have quite a green thumb."
"Yes, I know," Rabbit said modestly, shifting between Tigger and the carrots.
"I certainly never expected to find these here," the Man continued, peering closely at the nearest row of carrots. He prodded the leafy green tops with a vigorous thumb. "After all, it's not every day you find a hatching nest of Sativus younglings camouflaged as ordinary carrots in an English garden." He hastily withdrew his hand as the robust-looking vegetable in question growled and shuddered, straining to pull its roots from the soil.
"Chin up, Mr. Rabbit," the Man said cheerfully, wiping his hands with his handkerchief and casting a final glance about the garden. "I'm afraid you won't be dining on cauliflower soup this winter, either, but the rest of your crop should prove quite tasty."
Rabbit stared disconsolately at his tidy rows of faux-vegetables as Tigger and the Man bid him farewell and resumed their path through the Hundred Acre Wood. A new refrain drifted on the breeze.
We're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy,
fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!
But the most wonderful thing about Tiggers (and Time Lords) is - I'm the only one.
Oh, I'm the only one!