They Will Dance on Your Grave

"We will dance on your graves."

They look so cute.  They're baby groundhogs, they're sisters, and they're dancing.  Look a little closer though.  I asked Bumpkin and Sloopy why they were dancing.  Bumpkin said, and I quote, "We're practicing dancing on the graves of our enemies."  How has it gotten to this point?   It's not enough to impale and destroy, she also has to dance on her victim's graves?  And must she drag Sloopy into it, who I always thought was sweet.  I think she is, but, unfortunately, Bumpkin is probably controlling Sloopy to some extent, if not completely.  Sloopy hasn't been blessed (or cursed?) with the superpowers that have recently been bestowed upon Bumpkin by the dark netherworld. 
Bumpkin likes a lot of music, but lately she's been into Gangsta Rap.  She likes 'Pac, Jay-Z, and Eminem.  The dance her and Sloopy were doing was a sort of gangsta strut or gangsta stroll, as it were.  They stood up on their hindquarters (love that word), lowered their front legs, and did a slow gangsta roll, homie.  At least that's what Bumpkin called it.  It sounded about right to me; that's what it looked like, come to think of it.  But she could be wrong, we mustn't forget, she's superpowerful, but she's still just a wee-lil' baby groundhog after all.  So she could be wrong as far as what the dance she and Sloopy were doing is literally called, but she might be right too.  For a baby groundhog, she's a pretty smart cookie.  She'd likely destroy you in a trivia contest; she's a very quick study.  Of course, once she destroys you in trivia, she might elect to destroy your body and soul simultaneously.  And if she does, you're toast.  I've seen it before.  Consider yourself warned.  Do you want to become a fresh Bumpkin victim?  Maybe she'll write Sloopy's name in blood the next time she murders.  Her's was the first name to be written in blood on a sidewalk in my apartment complex.  I assume Sloopy will be next.  She seems to be closer to Bumpkin than their other sister, Lucinda, is.  Lucinda is, of course, very cute, but she's a little pudgy too.   She takes after her mother in that way.  Mother, like daughter, is a natural zaftig beauty.  There is photographic evidence to support these claims.  Trust me, if you are ever fortunate to have juvenile groundhogs living right next to you, you'd likely fall for them.  I love them. 

Bumpkin the Destroyer

R.I.P. building; you'll be missed

Bumpkin has earned another title. This time it's Bumpkin the Destroyer. She has just begun to test her powers, and today she unleashed them onto a building in my apartment complex. She destroyed it completely with a giant fireball that emanated from one of her paws. She only needed to raise her little paw to reduce an entire building to rubble. The police came. It seems like I was the only witness. I told them what happened. I don't think they believed me. When will they believe me? When it's too late? This is why Bumpkin's body is the perfect container for all those evil powers. Who would suspect a thing? People are so stupid and narrow-minded. I'm sure there's plenty of people who wouldn't believe what I saw, even if they saw it with their own eyes. She's already gotten away with the complete destruction of a building, the impaling of a cute bunny named Flopsy, and vandalism (When she wrote her name on the sidewalk in Flopsy's blood.).
It doesn't matter who I've called, no one has taken me seriously. I even called the Department of Homeland Security. I watch the news; I read the papers; I know what's going on. Bumpkin represents the gravest threat to the security of the United States. Her superpowers are increasing exponentially. Her attacks will continue and they will defy rhyme and reason. She destroys because she can; it's as simple as that. What will she destroy tomorrow? That's what will keep me awake tonight. Perhaps she'll destroy my building while I'm asleep, and I'll never know what hit me. That's just wishful thinking. My greater fear is that she'll turn me into one of her henchmen. It's getting harder and harder to resist the telepathic orders that she gives me on a regular basis. "I don't feel good. Go pick 345 blades of grass and toss them into my hole." No Bumpkin! "Come on, I'm sick: seriously." No Bumpkin, get it yourself! "You bring me that grass ASAP or I will eradicate you with extreme prejudice!" That did it. I picked and brought her the grass. My back is still sore from bending over 345 times. This is madness. Everyone living in this apartment complex is under her dark spell. Soon, the entire city of Rochester, NY will be under her control. Then she'll take Monroe County. Believe it or not, once she has control of the whole state of New York, and she will, she plans to celebrate by renaming it New Bumpkin. I know because I hear her voice in my brain 24/7! Bumpkin, for the love of all that's holy, please release me from your telepathic clutches!

Bumpkin the Impaler

Godspeed Flopsy; you'll be missed

I have sad news: very sad news indeed.   Bumpkin officially earned the moniker "Bumpkin the Impaler" when she impaled Flopsy the bunny with a sharpened stick.  Poor Flopsy.  Bumpkin only did it so she could write her name on the sidewalk using Flopsy's blood.  This could have been avoided if I had followed Bumpkin's order to write her name in blood.  But I would have had to spill the blood of another to do that, so it was a no-win situation for me.  But guess what?  Bumpkin forgot to dot the "i" in her name!  She nagged me about it; then she forgot to do it herself.  Oh well, she's just a baby groundhog; I suppose I should cut her some slack.  But only as far as misspelling goes, not impalings!  Impalings are wrong!  Bad Bumpkin!
Come to think of it, I better sneak out tonight and dot the "i" with some ketchup.  I'm worried that, once she notices her gaffe, she'll kill again just for the blood to dot the "i."
By the way, it's been confirmed.  It's my fault.  It happened just as I had suspected.  When I chose the perfect name for a baby groundhog, it opened a hole in the ground that allowed the netherworld to bestow Bumpkin with all the evil powers she would ever need.  As I feared, whenever you attach a perfectly cute name to a perfectly cute baby groundhog, there's a chance that you've created a perfectly powerful monster.
I know I should try to end Bumpkin's reign of terror before it goes any further, but I don't think I can do that.  Sure, I created her, well, I didn't create her, her mama, Sheila, and I think the scrawny groundhog created her via conception, but I am responsible for the evil superpowers she possesses.  I know Gregory Peck tried to take his own son out in The Omen, but that was just a movie.  That wasn't real.  Besides, I don't stand a chance against Bumpkin; she'd eat me for breakfast.  I couldn't hurt something that cute anyway.  And that's exactly why she'll succeed in her evil ways.  Her cuteness will allow her to get away with anything and everything.  

Curse of Bumpkin

Is Bumpkin evil?

Beware thee the Curse of Bumpkin, for tis a powerful one!  Damn you!  Damn you, cursed brain, for coming up with the perfect name for a baby groundhog: Bumpkin.  The pursuit of perfection sometimes leads to madness.  I named her so innocently.  I knew not what I was doing.  I created a monster!  I named her then went about my business.  I was watching a DVD when "Bumpkin" popped into my head.  Yes, it's a cute name for a baby groundhog; now let's get back to the DVD.  However, a few minutes later, Bumpkin popped into my head again.  Yes, I know, Bumpkin: wonderful, great, now let's move on.  But I couldn't move on.  I can 't go five minutes without thinking of Bumpkin!  She's in my head, and she's controlling my thoughts!
Whatever you do, never, never, never, even if a gun is pointed at your head (even if a baby groundhog is wielding the gun), name a baby groundhog Bumpkin.  Don't make the same mistake I did.  If you do, you will surely live to regret it.  I know, because I have sowed the wind, and now I am reaping the whirlwind.  When you can't go five minutes without Bumpkin in your brain, you are a step away from complete, unadulterated madness!
No, Bumpkin!  I will not shed blood for you!  You don't need blood!  You eat grass.  No Bumpkin!  I will not write your name on the sidewalk in spilled blood!  And I won't forget to dot the "i."  Wait a second!  I won't dot the "i," because I'm not doing it at all!  I'll do no such thing!  You don't need that!  I know it was me who named you!  What does that have to do with writing your name using the blood of an innocent, pray tell?  You are completely out of control, Bumpkin.  Remember the days when you were content to be cute, eat grass, and play with your sisters?  Please, I beg you, return to your carefree, innocent ways.  I can't take the pressure anymore!  Please get out of my head!  No!  You do not need blood!  Please free me, Bumpkin!  Please free me from your magic baby groundhog spell!    

More Baby Groundhogs

You gotta love 'em.

I can't get enough of the baby groundhogs; they are shining stars in the universe in which I dwell.  If the strongest super powers were doled out to the cutest, then these would be very powerful baby groundhogs indeed.  They are charming the world.  I believe strongly that, the three of them together, are ready to rule Earth in its entirety: including all of its inhabitants.  I'd compare them to the Kennedys, but the thought of any of them being assassinated is one that I cannot bear.
As the baby groundhogs wait to come into power, they continue to be cute.  The three of them seem to have a favorite bush.  They stand on their hindquarters and reach for its branches.  Perhaps the leaves of the bush are very tasty, or maybe, instead of being cat nip, they are some sort of groundhog nip.  Two of them played near this bush.  They played just like puppies would.  They sniffed each other, pawed playfully at each other, and showed off their bellies while lying on their backs.  This bush is located right in front of an apartment building.  At least one of the baby groundhogs seems to want her own apartment.  She climbs the steps to the door, frequently pausing on the first one with her rear paws on the sidewalk and her front paws on the step.  Once she gets to the door, it looks like she's trying to figure out a way to get inside.
At least one of the baby groundhogs is aware of my presence.  I was walking to my building when I saw one out in the open: munching on grass.  She saw me and ran toward some bushes as I said, "Hi baby groundhog."  Perhaps that is the same baby groundhog who seemed to notice me as I was staring at them from one of my windows while only wearing a pair of boxer briefs.  I waved to her, and it seemed like she reacted to that.  Therefore, I decided to dance a little, in an effort to entertain her.  She promptly ran behind the bush.  Perhaps she wasn't quite ready to see me dancing in my underwear.    
I heard a bird chirping away near my bedroom window, so I went over there to chirp back at her.  She didn't seem to mind my chirping, so I clapped my hands together a few times.  She left the windowsill.  She wasn't the only one startled by my clapping.  I caught a glimpse of three groundhog butts as they made their way into the cover that the vegetation would provide.
The baby groundhogs are very curious and playful.  They like to explore their neighborhood.  One of them scurried to her mommy, who rewarded her with a sweet nuzzle.  One of them tried to climb a yellow fire hydrant.  When climbing didn't work, she jumped: trying to catch the ledge.  She missed and fell on her butt.  She recovered immediately, so she didn't seem to be hurt at all.  After all, she's not Michael Jordan; she didn't jump very far.  That groundhog will conquer that fire hydrant, and once she does, even the sky would dare not limit her.  She, and her siblings, will be able to do anything they set their minds to.  She's not afraid of heights; perhaps she'll be the first groundhog astronaut.