The Bumpkin Chronicles

Young Bumpkin

It's all about Bumpkin.  It's Bumpkin's world, and the rest of us are just squirrels trying to get a nut.  I took her out shopping in my car.  I held the door open for her, and she hopped in.  Our destination was Rochester's Public Market, which is a pretty good farmers' market a few days a week.  I suggested and sold the idea to Bumpkin.  Most stores have a strict "no rodents" policy.  Bumpkin longs for a day when policies like these will no longer exist, and people will realize that it's wrong to discriminate against rodents: especially those who are as powerful as Bumpkin is.  By the way, don't ever call Bumpkin a rodent, if you do, it'll be the last thing you do.
It was my idea to go on a Tuesday.  Saturday is the day of the week on which the public market is busiest.  I figured the more people are around, the greater the chance someone would kick or step on Bumpkin, which would be the last mistake they would make.   In choosing a Tuesday, I made a mistake.  I just hadn't realized it yet, but I would.
It wasn't hard to find a parking spot at all.  I snagged a good one, which I wouldn't have been able to get on a Saturday.  I was able to cart Bumpkin right up to the displays.  She hopped out and strolled toward the merchandise.  I followed close behind her.
"This is it?" she asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
"This is the great public market?"
I was worried about the tone she was using.  "Yeah, it's a Tuesday.  On Saturdays, there are more vendors."
"Well what the hell are we doing here on a freaking Tuesday?"
Now I was definitely worried.  Bumpkin was clearly angry; bad things happen when Bumpkin gets angry.  "I'm sorry, Bumpkin.  I just thought it would be better to come on a Tuesday, because there would be less people walking around who might kick or step on you."
"You mean these people?"  Bumpkin began firing fireballs out of her left paw.  Each found its target of a public market browser.  They were hit in the chest, back, legs, arms, and heads.  You name it, it got hit with Bumpkin's fireballs.  People began to run for their lives.  Bumpkin levitated some watermelons, then cast them with blinding speed toward the runners.  Watermelons smashed into the heads of those who chose to run away.  When she ran out of watermelons, Bumpkin switched to cabbage and whatever else might be a good thing to fling at the moving targets.  It was a bad day at the public market indeed.