Author's Note: I have now gotten word that yucklover14 has reviewed my story so far now and has added my story to his/her Favorite Stories list.
Disclaimer: The usage of the names Bart the Stout Mouse and Bill the Lizard along with the Fisherman and the green-dress mice belong to Disney. Ella, the stump, and the bear cub belong to Bob Boyle.
Bar Brawl
The now drenched lady realized it was the work of Ella Mental as she turned her head toward her. The tangerine cat was now giving her the evil eye and showed a nasty and satisfying sneer. The green lady responded with a glare as she growled and grinded her teeth signifying a fight. The drenched lady took up her left hand and raised her long skirt by four and half inches. She then ran up to her in her jade-encrusted high heels hoping to backslap her with her right hand in one quick swoop; but, the cat quickly dodged her attack which instead of striking Ella, it lacerated the air.
Soon, the lady punched the disgruntled cat in her left cheek. It then left her a peach-shaped bruise that covered most of it; in response, Ella angrily and swiftly kicked the lady in the abdomen. The pain was throbbing like she was hit with brick so badly she fell to the floor. She coughed and moaned in stifling agony as she held her stomach in pain.
The mice didn't take to kindly with her, especially the lizard whose drink was wasted on this madness as they got out of their seats. Seeing that the mice were now intent on beating the living hell out of her each of the mice took out their own weapons; the stout mouse pulled out a short cudgel, a tall mouse took out pocketknife, the fisherman mouse took out his trusty fishing rod that looked old but not worn out, and the lizard well he balled up his fist.
"Humph, you slab of rejects want to fight me so bad because of your alcoholic joke made me fall down?! Fine, make my damn day," said Ella as she took up a proper fighting stance.
The tall mouse went first as he dashed towards the cat at the speed of Mach two (and maybe a half). He darted his knife through the air like a missile towards the tangerine cat dangerously. Quickly, Ella dodged the incoming pocketknife blade and disarmed the tall mouse's weapon from his own two hands and then punched him out by his face. Then, the stout mouse went up to the cat with his cudgel, readying his weapon and so did the lizard who automatically decided to go out and assist him in battle. She noticed although this was an unfair fight she decided to go ahead and fight them since the stout mouse was small and might need help from that lizard.
The stout mouse swung his cudgel at Ella like a bat as if he was in the World Series baseball game, hoping for a home-run to win the game; luckily, she dodged the swing quickly as the cat taunted, "Strike one!"
The stout mouse who saw his swing go dumbstruck decided to swing again this time with more effort; still, no progress was made. "Strike two!" Ella jeered again seeing that she was still not bruised.
Then, the lizard frustratingly decided that this time he along with the rest of his group had enough of the cat's shenanigans so he snuck up on her from behind, snatched Ella up and held the cat by the slender waist; she was now struggling to get out of his unyielding grip. The stout mouse saw this as his advantage so with all his might transferred to his cudgel he raised it up once more and ran up to the unfortunate cat as fast as he can. However, in a surprising twist (of fate), she thrusts her legs up swiftly and swung them back down fiercely, striking the lizard's shins; soon, Ella was now free while the lizard was hopping with his other leg in pain.
The stout mouse still pressed on angrily as he attempted to strike the cat down only for her to jump out of the way to safety while he hit his fellow companion by the groin; talk about hitting below the belt. "AHHHH, MY BALLS! WHY WOULD YOU HIT ME IN THE GROIN?! WHY?!" cried the lizard agonizingly.
"I'm sorry, Bill!" exclaimed the stout mouse, "I didn't mean to–––!"
"DIDN'T MEAN TO?! YOU DO NOTICE THAT I TRIED TO OPEN A WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY FOR YOU AND THIS HOW YOU REPAY ME! I MEAN SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK, BART?!" shouted the lizard named Bill.
The muscle-bound mouse seeing that he had no time for foolishness grabbed a chair and picked it up with only one hand, seemingly an easy task for people like him. He then hurled the straight toward Ella; however, it was seen as a mistake he made. She tapped into her mind once again taking the form of a merciless bulldozer hijacked by a furious female (and her angry hymen), this time catching the chair and then throwing it towards the wall, fiercely crushing it in the process.
The strong male then called out his friend, the fisherman to take out his fishing rod. At first he was hesitant because he saw it as a heirloom used by his (founding) forefathers and, of course his foremothers. Then again he didn't want to lose to the likes of her. He drew it out like it was a sword held up in the air like a knight in shining amour named He-man who chanted, "I HAVE THE POWER!"
It was long and slender like a yardstick threatening to strike the desk of a student who dared to daydream. The somewhat indistinguishable string was sewn all the way through the pinnacle where a classy hook resided upon. It was even darker than black itself and plain as sackcloth. As a result, the color refracted against the flickering light and created a shadow like the one in a wide, open field unblocked by trees.
Speaking of which, the tree stump was now falling back from the sky again knowing where he would land will bring him great pain. "AHHHHHH!" screamed the stump as then he crashed through the tar roof of a nearby farm in pain where he landed. Luckily, he fell in a volume of soap and water which eased the pain; however, as he floated back up into the surface it turns out he wasn't alone.
There was an turquoise bear cub next to him. Orange-scented foam was resting over her violet locks that were on top of her weary head; the rest of the foam was frosting around the upper half of her body like whipped cream on a five-year-old's hot fudge sundae he dreamed of eating for so long. Her lavender cheeks weren't spared from her hair's motherland color. She was scrubbing her delicate feet with a foamy loofa; unfortunately, she was shocked by the stump's unpleasant arrival and responded by bobbing herself down into the water until only her head and shoulders were visible in sight.
"AAHHH! OH NO, YOU DID NOT CRASH IN AND SAW ME, YOU PEEPING TOM!" shouted the cub.
"But Lena––!" the tree stump pleaded.
"But nothing!" snapped the bear cub named Lena, "The only 'butt' you need is to get your Gilligan's Island-brand, pansy butt out of her immediately before I call my dad on you with this whistle!" She pulled it out the gold-plated whistle that conveniently circled around her (famous) wrist hooked by a black plastic wire. It was wet indeed but refined nonetheless.
"Lena, no... please-!" begged the stump fruitlessly but the whistle was now close to the mouth.
"Okay, I'll leave!" responded the stump as he got up out the tub of floating water and ran out the door quickly but quietly, hoping her dad wouldn't see nor hear him leave the farm. The bear cub sighed in triumph.
Back at the bar, the muscle-bound swung the rod and launched the hook at Ella only for her to dodge it. The hook's willful direction shifted to a nearby table where a group of teenagers drank snifter from a can.
The first teenager was a lion that had a clean golden mane and blue eyes. The second teenager was a white bear. The third teenager was a black panther that had braided hair and a rough face. The fourth teenager was a goat that had ginger hair and wore a bottle green shirt and light brown baggy pants as opposed to the red and white jackets the first three wore. Even so, the fifth teenager was a rottweiler who had on a tracksuit that was darker than black itself.
When the hook latched onto the goat's shirt the muscle-bound mouse pulled the rod and ripped the shirt off leaving only a plain white T. When the goat realized what happened he said, "who the hell ripped my shirt off?!" He then noticed the muscle-bound mouse still holding fishing rod that took the shirt prisoner.
He walked up towards him and said, "I don't what the hell is going on but this is my shirt so I hope you watch your back, got it?"
He retrieved the shirt and started to walk back to the table; however, while the goat put his shirt back on the muscle-bound mouse spitefully said, "Whatever, Irish kid…"
This however angered the goat and responded, "Just because I have red-hair doesn't mean I'm Irish, you fag!"
The muscle-bound mouse grabbed the goat by the décolletage and recoiled, "Are you calling me gay, you son of a bitch?!"
"Maybe, but it's because you smoke these big ass cigars," the taunting goat said pointing at the cigar the adult was smoking.
"That's because where I came from they are called fags!" the goat pushed him away and balled up his fists and said, "How about we answer the question on who's man enough with a fight?"
"Gladly," answered the muscle-bound mouse "I didn't go hitting bags at gym for nothing."
But before either of them even landed a punch Ella stepped in their way, blocked their respective fists, and said to the goat,
"This is my fight and my fight alone so there is no need to help; besides…" she then turned around towards the muscle-bound mouse and kicked him in between the legs, "I don't like you or your friends so the next time I see you again these muscles won't even save you." The muscle-bound mouse fell in pain as Ella now went to the door, opened it, and left seemingly vowing never to stop here again. The people she fought with groaned in pain while the rest of the bar watched in overall stillness.