USSRamshack

Water dripped from Ikkit’s nose in a sad trail dampening his fur from atop his forehead to the weighty drip that trembled now. The aftermath of his games was screeching in the distance, only just dimming from the tumultuous display that wracked the forest only moments ago. Trees had been spinning from their roots in the high winds, leaves ripped from their canopy at fierce speeds. Brush flew from the muddy earth and wound up clogging rivers or haplessly upside down amongst high branches far from their home soil. Nests were gone, splintered away in the rain, and every small creature was flooded out. The burrowing animals hadn’t a chance, and even the birds struggled against the storm. There were many poor reactions to Ikkit’s pranks, but he feared this may have been among the grandest. While the drop from his nose finally decided to fall, he wondered if these kinds of consequences were what Makoa was crying about after the drunken energy of his after parties dulled into the numb

Sometimes the best pranks are orchestrated Time brewing perfection through a plan. Sometimes preparation adds the icing To a cake that would otherwise be bland. But sometimes the impulse of an instant Unbridled with the spurring of a whim Takes the sudden prompting into question And paints on Ikkit’s face an eerie grin. A window cracks to somewhere unexpected As the moment ripens right before his eyes, And he urges the crack to ever widen, For opportunity creates the best surprise. Like a spring from one of X’s new contraptions, And a rush just like Makoa’s famed soirees, So opposite to Majanthi’s precautions; Ikkit’s trickster mind jumps into play. The unsuspected host, so often Vetru, Carries on suspecting not a thing, While the little devil from the forest Collects the hell his impulse dares to bring. So with the thoughtlessness of Seventh’s storming, And intentions quite reversed from Aevre’s saves, Containing untamed fits of rampant laughter, Ikkit tests a fate that few would