Yeah so... um... I got really bored and wrote this. Just some strange Angry Beavers/A Clockwork Orange thing I've had bouncing around in my head. This isn't how I normally write. so don't expect gold. It's meant to be dumb and silly, bizarre, odd, and maybe even funny. lmao. Anyways...
Viddy well little brothers and sisters, viddy well.







"What I'm a-boot to tell you. Is an old story. Long before me and my mutant brother Daggy, ever settled here on the pond we now know and love. From way back when to a time of troubled A-dol-essence. Two young, funny-talking, teenage Bea-voirs with a taste for havoc...
And a bit of the ol' Ultrawallop..."


A Clockwork Beaver.

Chapter 1: Droogy Nights.

There was me... That is Norbert. And my three Droogs. That is Barry, Wolffe, and Daggett. Dag-a-licious, being of flesh and kin like, my brother of a biologistical nature. And we sat in the Pinova Yahoo Bar. Trying to make up our Rassoodocks, what to do with the evening. The Pinova Yahoo Bar sold Yahoo Plus. Yahoo plus Oak, or Pine, or Birch. Which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the ol' Ultrawallop.

"Welly welly welly me Droogies, what say we strike ourselves off on a late night promenad-y? See if we can scare up some fun real horrowshow?"

"Right right." Responded my two Droogies in unison. With Daggle-dearest responding a split second after Barry-boy and Wolffe. Though a strong and able malchick my brother was, and especially capable of a wallop he was with the large Boxing glove he wore on his taily-wail. He was a bit slow in the gulliver. I reached over and tippy-tipped the brim of Daggy's bowler hat down over his eyes with the end of my trusty Plunger.

"A bit slow out of the gate are we, Daggles? Mayhaps thou wish-ith for some nappy time?" I chided him.

"Indeedy not, dear bro-ther. Twas but a bit of a daydreamy, creepin' through the noggin."
He corrected his hat back onto his gulliver with a snorty, dramatic, fidget.

"Well then let's get to it me Droogies." I said, standing from my resting place on our usual couch. With a fanciful twirl, tucking the shaft of my Plunger beneith my arm. And with tug of the suspenders, I was off into the night with me Droogs.

A short while later, we were wandering our way down an alley near the ol' abandoned massage chair factory. The sound of our boots making a nice cloppity clomp noise that resounded through the alley as we walked. Without warning, a dippidy-doofus-y, spooty rending fell upon the ears of your's truely. Upon rounding a corner we discovered that this horror-rific cacaphony was indeed but the crooning of an old porky-pine chap sitting against a wall in the alley. Blathering away, he was, whilst sucking down a stinking bottle of imitation Maple gutty-rot. Me and me Droogs approached rather noncha-lantally and surrounded the stinky old Porkerpine. To discribe this old codger as rancid would be an understatement. The fetidi-ness of his tattered old clothes would make maggot barf. One thing I could never stand, was to see a filthy, dirty old drunky, blathering out spooty old pop songs, like there was a spooty old jukebox, crammed into his spooty old mouth. I could never stand to see anyone like that. Whatever his species may be. But more especially, when he was real pointy like this one was.We laughed and cheered falsely for the codgers silly old tune.

"Well I thank ye young'uns for liking me tune. I was thinking about getting meself over to the Kareoke bar on 7th and Sprig. Don't suppose any of you boys could spare some money fo the bus?"

Right quicky-quick I knocked the half-empty bottle of Imitation Maple rotty gut from his hands and stuck him good in the stomach with my Plunger, pinning him to the ground.

"Fine, do me in then, mangey cowards. Jeez, everybody is a music critic these days."
He spat angrily at us. So, with a laugh and a chuckle we set about to walloping on him real goody like. Five or six or seven or more times I must've tolchocked him with me Plunger. I always diddy love the sound of the rubber head connecting on a full swingy-ding. Loverly was the thrill, the thump, the bang, and the wallop I shared with me Droogies. And of course me dearest little brother, me proto-jay. Twas so, since I taught him all he knew about the wallopin', and the scrapin', and the stealin', and the ol' Om Nom Om Nom. And oh, how he did wallop. Even if he did sometimes had to be told twice, or sometimes thrice. And a good tolchock to the gulliver to get his attention if a fourth was needed. Nerry it matter now. For a short bit later after we had walloped that stinky old porkerpine a good one, we were once again on our merry way. A small idea in the gulliver to pay a visit to some ol' friends of ours.

It was around by the old derelict sawmill that we came across Wayney boy and his cousin Pierre. Two stinky Cannuck beavers and two of their stinky, spooty, Cannuck beaver Droogies. They were getting ready to perform a little of the ol' Om Nom Om Nom on a weepy young Willow sapling. So busy were they that they did narry notice us standing in the shadows of the large saw room. After a few moments of watching this spooty neanderthals, I put my boot to an empty bottle. It echoing loudly on it's flighty path across the flooor.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Well if it isn't fat, spoot-tastic Wayney boy and slime sucking Cousin Pierre. How art thou? Thou globbery bottle of cheap spooty Canadian Maple rotty-gut?" I challenged loudly.

"Well well, If it ain't ol' Norbie and his slurpy fish-brained brother critter, little Daggy. To what do I owe the pleasure of walloping you and your hoser friends? Eh?"

"Who you callin' fishy slurp-brained? You big greasy putz! Come and get one in the acorns, if you got any acorns! You termite jelly thou!" Daggle-tooth yelled back at Wayney and company, thumping his boxing gloved tail against the floor with great loud thumps.

Wayney snorted and spit out a piece of the young Willow sapling he had been chewing on, and withdrew a heavy hockey stick from inside his stained flannel coat.
"Let's make Poutine out of 'em boys, eh?"
And with that, Wayney boy and his Droogies charged yelling at us with hockey sticks at the ready for a walloping. And we charged foreward as well to meet them with Plunger, tail, chain and fist...


To be continued?