A Kind of Low Cunning

(Funny how you never hear about high cunning…)

Rufus Diggory and Gruncemeier Yoiks had constructed an intricate rubegoldbergian trap out of marmalade, duct tape, a jar of pickles, several clothespins, a waxwork replica of King George III (old crazy version, natch), a whole mess of paperclips, three toasters, a triangular cheesegrater, a banana and a half, also banana peel, a chest of drawers in the regency style complete with “pineapple” legs, a gorilla suit (empty), several kegs of some rather tasty stout (partially drunk), a trunk full of middling to poor cheap romance and mystery novels, jellied doughnuts (not part of the trap, but you’ve got to fuel inspiration somehow!), an emperor penguin on a treadmill, literally thousands of dominos all lined up and Ready To Go!, Uncle Scarmantreau’s writing desk full of ball bearings of all different sizes, shark teeth, a musical saw, and an ant farm.

“Delicious!” Rufus cried. “Those neanderthals won’t know what hit them.” He cackled for a bit in a slightly annoying way.

“Rather!” chortled Yoiks and danced a little jig. His left foot hit one of the dominos and the whole trap flung into action. Twelve minutes later they were still standing the dominos back up when the neanderthals burst onto the scene, threw rocks at them, and that was the end of that.

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