A/N:
Ok, I've changed a few mistakes in here. I may go over this more thoroughly a bit later and smooth it out. Urg, should have had a thorough look before putting it up.
I just want you all to know that this is my very first parody and I sincerely apologise for any negative feelings caused, so I changed a few bits. Uhhh, yeah. I should stop making a fool of myself. Ug. Tell me if I need to change anything, I'm rather new at this sort of stuff and I not the sort of person in real life you'd expect to write parodies, no matter how crazy I sound in my bio (I was on a sugar high).
Warning: Contains screaming and electronics, and lots of spoilers - I suggest reading Salamandastron if you haven't already.
Enjoy.
---------------------------------------------------------------
"Get out of my way," snarled Klitch. His furry paws curled into fists as he stood before his Father who was standing in front of the door way, blocking Klitch from going outside. They had been arguing for several minutes.
"No, not until you give me a reason," Ferahgo said contemptuously.
There was silence for a few seconds before the older weasel added, "Whelp." His son glowered, taking a step forward and -
"AAUGH!" screamed Klitch, waving one paw about violently and hopping on one foot. "I've been killed!"
"What now?" Ferahgo said coolly. "Surely you haven't got a splinter in your paw again from gathering fruit." His eyes almost twinkled (at least he thought so - he hated the idea of his eyes twinkling like stardust, like so many of those common woodlander heroes) with amusement as he watched his sons antics.
"Owowowoowwww!" shouted Klitch. "You bastard!" Wincing, he brought it up to his face and an inspection revealed a broken claw tip embedded in the base of his palm, drops of blood staining his fur red. "Look at what you've made me do! My paw is RUINED - like that idiot, Swartt Sixclaw! I'm dooooooomed!" The young ferret commenced to suck on his paw, angry tears forming in his eyes, while his father snorted and looked on.
"It's clear enough that it's your own fault; I'm haven't even touched you," he sighed, as if bored. "At least your paw isn't dead like that six-clawed ferret; you're lucky that you're standing here right now."
"It's your fault and you know it!" accused Klitch, totally ignoring his father's words of 'wisdom.' His eyes burned "You planned it all along - blocking my way in order to get me to - to make my claw break off in my palm!"
"They're yours, not mine. I don't know how many times we've had this discussion before. You always did behave like a spoiled baby." Klitch simmered and made to turn away before a glint in his eyes appeared. He stood up taller, his abs seeming to make his gorgeous tunic almot too tight, the muscles in his arms bulged.
"Who was the one who lured Mara and that long-eared fleabag to the horde, by his own ideas? Huh? Huh?" The younger weasel toyed with the handle of his dagger.
"You, but with the aide of Goffa," Ferahgo replied. "And they escaped, remember, and gave our position away." He tutted. "Not a smart move on your part."
"It sounds like you're talking about failure," sneered Klitch. "Your horde's failure." His father merely crossed his arms.
"You've never managed a full-sized horde, have you?" he said coldly. "I have, for quite a few decades, and I'm still here." Klitch opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead he acquired a steely glint in his winter-cold blue eyes.
"I bet you acted like a baby when Urthstripe took you down," Klitch said with his voice lowered.
"Did not." retorted Ferahgo angrily, his neutral expression slipping. "You don't know what you're talking about." Klitch eagerly brandished his new found metaphorical weapon in his elder's face.
"Oh yes I do, I know very well what I'm talking about, coward! Don't deny it; you'll only make things worse."
"I am definately NOT a coward," snarled Ferahgo.
"Cowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardcowardco-"
"SHUT UP YOU MISERABLE LITTLE BRAT!" yelled Ferahgo. "I'm not a coward!"
"Says the bravest of warriors. Do they always plan on stabbing their foes in the back?"
"I definitely did not!" Ferahgo's eyes were red and angry looking.
"Oh yes you did! It's going all around Mossflower that you tried - and failed. They said that were scared to tears, screaming like a baby when that badger Urthstripe -"
"DID NOT!" screamed Ferahgo, his voice choked with tears. Klitch smirked, and leaned forward until his face was directly in front of his father's.
"It's caught on video tape," he growled, smiling evilly. Simultaneously an expression of confusion crossed their faces.
"Video tape?" they said simultaneously.
"What are you talking about?" asked Ferahgo. They glanced at each other and seemed to come to the same conclusion. Klitch glances at you before looking at the ceiling.
"Hey! Monkey-like entity of surreal powers!" he shouted. Ferahgo clapped his paws over his ears to shut out the raucous voice.
"No need to shout," said the Author, appearing between the two. "And I'm not an entity." Another expression of surprise crossed their faces.
"Of course you are!" exclaimed Ferahgo. The Author shook her head.
"Nope, you've got me mixed up with the wrong guy(s); - also I have no surreal powers."
"Yes you do! Who put us here? You did!" said Klitch. He executed a low bow, kissing the hem of the Author's nonexistent ermine cloak ("Ewwwwwww," thought Author and Ferahgo at the same time.) when he was promptly hit in the back of the head by a brick-filled handbag swung by Ferahgo.
"I did not put you here," said the Author, ignoring Klitch's groans. "That would be Brian Jacques; thank you. Writing is not a divine power. And get away from me! Stop acting like one of those horrible suck-ups that you always find in courts like - like - Camelot or or or or like Ex-Hermit Furgle his Majesty's. Yeah, Emperor Furgle actually did give up being a hermit and sacked Saffron Walden." Ferahgo snorted.
"You're changing the subject," said Ferahgo in a stern tone. "You should never ever change the subject. And Saffron Walden doesn't even have a castle. What's this about videotapes? What are they?"
"Videotapes," said the Author as if certain exchanges had never happened, "are something that you can capture time with. By the way, I shouldn't even be here. I ought to be studying for my Finals."
"But but -" stumbled Ferahgo, "- you CAN'T go! I have some more questions!"
"Believe it or not, I can," she replied, "and I'm not even supposed to be in this story."She turned and disappeared through the door way. Ferahgo stood there scratching his head for a second before running outside with a frantic look on his face. A miraculously fully-recovered and standing Klitch, tapping his paw on the wooden floor, mentally counted to ten.
Five alligators six alligators seven - Ferahgo entered the hut, looking aghast, saying, "My vision has gone!" Klitch immediately started to make hideous faces and gestures.
"Not my eyesight, you fool!" snapped Ferahgo. "That person who was here a minute ago. Do you know where she went? I looked outside and she wasn't there!!!"
"Who are you talking about, father?" asked an innocent-looking Klitch.
"What in hellgates are you talking about?" snarled Ferahgo. "No one was here or has been today. And don't you call me 'father', boy, in that tone, y'hear me?"
Silence.
"Are you listening to me?" said Ferahgo, giving Klitch a vicious kick in the shin. Klitch flew backwards through the air, the wall, the next room, and out the window. A furious expression crossed Ferahgo's face and he ran out of the room, screaming "Don't you run away from me boy!"
A cacophony of noises ensued while father and son proceeded to fight each other. They continued this for the next several years until one of them set off an atom bomb. Their remains are on sale at Waitrose, Saffron Walden.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N:
Saffron Walden is a large town/village in Essex, England to the south of Cambridgeshire. It is close to the city Cambridge. Waitrose is the English equivalent of Safeway