Barnaby the badger was thrilled. He’d finally gotten his long-awaited time off – a whole week of “Rafter-rific Relaxation,” as he’d dramatically titled it in his tiny, meticulously-organized badger calendar. He envisioned peaceful naps under sun-dappled leaves, leisurely swims in the babbling brook, maybe even a spot of advanced acorn-burying techniques.
The first day went exactly as planned. Bliss. Day two, too. But on day three, disaster struck. Barnaby awoke to find his cozy burrow flooded. Not just a little damp, mind you, but completely submerged.
“What in the name of prickly pear happened?!” he squeaked, emerging, dripping, from the soggy entrance.
His neighbour, Penelope the porcupine, waddled over, quills slightly askew. “Oh, Barnaby, dear! That awful Mr. Fitzwilliam and his ludicrous water-balloon-launching contraption again!”
Barnaby gasped. Mr. Fitzwilliam, a notoriously eccentric hedgehog, was known for his outlandish inventions.
“He aimed for the squirrels,” Penelope continued, “but his aim… well, let’s just say it was ‘rafter-rifically’ inaccurate!” She chuckled.
Barnaby sighed. He stared at the overflowing burrow, then at Penelope, then at the sky, which was now raining water balloons.
“So,” he said, a glint in his eye, “I guess my ‘Rafter-rific Relaxation’ is going to involve a lot more… *swimming* than I’d originally planned.” He grinned. “At least I’ll be getting my leisurely swims in after all!” He dove headfirst into the muddy water, a delighted squeal escaping his lips. His “Rafter-rific Relaxation” was certainly proving to be…unique.
