Let me tell you about wombats. Yes, they actually do have squarish stools, and their burrows are extensive, which was a problem when the old man went over one with a tractor, causing them to collapse and getting him stuck. Yeah, he weren't a fan. If you go inside these burrows, they'll charge you and try to get under you and push you against the burrow's roof, and wait til you die from asphyxiation. They bite. Their bites, unlike their stools, are perfectly circular. Ok, they bite, scratch and want you dead or to go away; nothing unusual. Now there was a wombat man who studied wombats who took a special interest in our area, which bordered the Wollemi National Park. This bloke would go down their holes with a garbage can lid held in front of him so it doesn't fuck him up. So we got to talking.
In short, our wombats were very aggressive; they'd chase you a bit if you surprised them, where in most places they usually trundle off all nonchalant. This is because there's wild dogs all over. They're not dingoes, they're escaped hunting dogs, farm dogs, whatever. They've kind of evolved into superdogs, they're smarter and tougher than domestic dogs, due to the fact if they can't think, they don't eat, unlike Fido over there. They look kinda like a cross between a German Shepherd and a kelpie, sort of, bit like a wolf but with shorter legs. So it's the dogs harassing them that turned the wombats nasty. Oh, yeah. If wombat man saw one going somewhere, he'd shoot it with a .22, bouncing it off the top of it's skull. A .22 won't go thru, so long as you get the angle right. This would stun poor Mr Wombat long enough for him to tag it and take a blood sample, and the thing would wake after a minute or two and stagger off with a band-aid on it's head. Some science is pretty metal.
Winner: 4th Contest August
Winner: June Flash Fiction
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