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Harry the huntsman has grown tired of his new home.
It’s not like he has any better place to live, but after two months of hiding underneath a car visor, he suddenly feels the urge to mysteriously dart out into the open.
As a huntsman, it’s just part of his DNA to find the most inconvenient place to sleep. Before finding residence in the 1999 Ford Falcon, Harry had spent his youth wedged in between a stack of bath towels.
His uncle, Ben, who quite liked to chill on the outside of a toilet bowl, usually waited until someone was mid shit before making a run for it.
Though the huntsman family has a pretty good PR campaign about how harmless they are, it’s alleged that a good portion of cardiac deaths is huntsman related.
Because on top of choosing areas frequently trafficked by humans to nest, they also like to pick the worst possible time to make themselves known.
Harry’s contribution to the chaos is waiting until local man Sam Wood’s car is in motion to make an appearance. But a simple shopping trip will not do – for maximum points, he has to at least be speeding down a busy highway.
Whispering to himself that his family would be proud, Harry waits until the odometer has reached 115km before flinging himself kamikaze-style onto Sam’s face.
More to come.