Snappy Shorts!

Hullo! Here's another Snappy Short. It's not as good as the others, but the end is great (in my opinion). The whole reason that I wrote this story was so that I could put in the last line. R&R PLEASE:)

The Beavers Have A Clark Gable Moment

It was a rainy Tuesday morning and the Beavers already busy as, well, beavers. (Oh and am just too much! Stop me!) Mrs. Beaver was busy patching a quilt, and Mr. Beaver was out hunting some fish for lunch. Twasn't long before Mr. Beaver came inside with his catches of the day.

"Hello Mrs. Beaver," he said, smacking the mud off of his tail onto the door mat.

"Hello yourself Mr. Beaver," was her reply. She was hunched over her prized sewing machine, something that was not uncommon for her, and couldn't really be bothered with pleasantries. She pushed her spectacles up her nose and continued on with her work for several more minutes. When finally she was finished, she took her spectacles off and asked her husband, "Did you catch much this morning?"

"No love," he replied, "just this bit." He plopped three dead (and dinky) fish onto the dining room table. They reeked and had little bulgy unattractive eyes that seemed to stare at Mrs. Beaver in a freaky manner.

"Beaver! You get those filthy fishies off my lace table cloth right now!" she shouted angrily.

"They aren't filthy, Mrs. Beaver," said Mr. Beaver, "they just happen to be smaller and a little dirtier than usual, which is nothing to yell about."

"Nothing to yell about? They are staining and stinkin' up my table cloth!" And with that, she grabbed a dustpan and in one over-exaggerated movement, swiped the filthy fishies off the table and onto the floor.

"Mrs. Beaver!" gasped Mr. Beaver. "How could you!" He placed his little beaver hand upon his little beaver heart.

"I'm sorry my dear," said Mrs. Beaver, "but I told you that I don't want those filthy fishies on my table!"

Mr. Beaver was angry. How dare she offend him by throwing the meal he caught with his own two hands on the dirty floor! He grabbed his hat and the fish and began to head out the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Beaver.

"Out. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"Mr. Beaver, if you walk out that door you won't get a decent warm meal for a month after you come back...I'm serious!" She glared at him.

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a dam," he said, and shut the door behind him.

Did you get it? Huh? Huh? LOL! It cracks me up every time.