milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

There is a large pig, sitting by the fire drawing a large diagram with a piece of charcoal between his trotters.

"Pigs aren't supposed to be civilized."

Then again, Terrorsaur hasn't met any pigs that talk, either.

He turns back to the rabbit, plucking out one of its eyes this time. Mmm. Eyeballs.

"Why not?"

" 'Cuz you're animals. Animals don't know the first thing about civilization." A thoughtful head-tilt, then, "Okay, maybe talking animals might know a bit more, but not really."

"Don't be ridiculous. I have been leader of a perfectly civilised collection of animals running our own farm for months without the slightest hint of human intervention. You should give yourself more credit."

"Animals run a farm?" Pause. "What's a farm?"

After another hunk of rabbit, the bird adds, "I'm not an animal. I'm a Transformer. I just look like an animal sometimes."

"We grow things. To feed ourselves."

"Oh. That's how primitives like you get food."

There's a slight sneer to Terrorsaur's voice.

"Well considering that you have chosen the form of an extinct species, I think primitive is somewhat inappropriate."

"Hey!" The dinosaur spreads its wings menacingly. "Watch it, bacon-breath!

"This form's better than yours." He snorts. "You can't even fly."

"Merely pointing out fact comrade." the pig remarks, amused.

"Well, watch what kind of facts you point out," growls the bird. "And what's the with the 'comrade' slag, anyway?"

"I, as a civilised creature, have a culture. All animals, no matter how unpleasant are comrades."

He turns away. "You, however, are not civilised enough to be an animal. Good day."

He walks away.

Terrorsaur narrows his eyes at the pig.

"Some creatures are just asking for more wounds," he mutters angrily, then continues eating his dinner.

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