Mr. Squirrel of the Fairy Forest

When the small tree house was emptied, Mr. Weasel clenched the hammer tightly in one paw, and knocked bang bang bang.

The originally small tree house turned into a pile of waste wood in an instant.

Mr. Squirrel watched helplessly, turned his back with his ears drooped, and secretly wiped his tears with his paws.

After all, it was his beloved little tree house, which was carefully cared for on weekdays, and it was so sad to be destroyed.

Seeing this scene, Mr. Weasel twitched his paws anxiously, and circled the little squirrel back and forth.

He wanted to comfort him but dared not go forward, for fear that Mr. Squirrel would think him frivolous.

"Little squirrel, don't be sad, the little tree house is only temporary, I will make it bigger and more beautiful and return it to you!"

Hearing this, Mr. Squirrel sniffled, blushing with embarrassment.

He didn't want to be so hypocritical, but he couldn't help it!

"I... I know, thank you, Mr. Huang Lang, and, don't call me a little squirrel from now on, you can call me a little monster, a little monster's little monster!" Mr. Squirrel raised his face and tried to show a bright smile. laugh.

Seeing this scene, Mr. Weasel covered his chest with his paws, and took a step back staggeringly.

He has just been shot in the heart by Cupid, the god of love!

no more!Can't stand it anymore!

The mobs are too foul!

"Okay, then... I'll call you a little monster from now on!" Mr. Weasel looked serious on the surface, but the little weasel in the devil's skin deep down had already pressed the little squirrel under his body.

I'm still a mob now, sooner or later, I'll let you be my little boy!

With great ambitions, Mr. Weasel worked very vigorously, continuing to build the great cause as if venting.

Before laying the foundation, he plans to dig out a storage room.

Just now I have seen the horrific hoarding ability of the little squirrel, so this storage room must be bigger and more spacious than the drawing.

Mr. Weasel rested his chin with a pencil, stared at the ruins of the small tree house and looked again.

This big tree is strong enough, and the original small tree house hangs on the trunk, like a small boat in the sea.

Since it is a storage room, open a hole in the tree trunk and dig in. With such a thick tree trunk, it doesn't matter how much area you want to open up.

After finalizing the plan, Mr. Weasel took a small chisel and a small hammer, stepped on the ruins of the small tree house, and started to work.

Start with a door-sized hole and dig your way in, square the space inside so the bark can serve as a natural wall.

Holding a plumb meter and a leveling caliper in his paws, every time Mr. Weasel dug a hole, he would lie on the ground with his ass pouted, his eyes wide open, and he would measure with precision instruments to ensure that the ground was flat and the walls were vertical.

Slow work and meticulous work, because of the strict requirements for the work, the whole morning has passed, and the storage room does not seem to have made much progress, but Mr. Weasel is tired and out of breath.

Seeing this scene, Mr. Squirrel hurried forward with the macaron biscuits and passion fruit tea that he had made earlier.

He always wanted to help, but found that he couldn't help at all. He had never seen the construction equipment in Mr. Weasel's toolbox.

Since you can't go to the front line, do a good job in logistics.

Mr. Squirrel put on a small apron, delicately placed the macaron biscuits on a small plate, and placed a fresh gardenia next to it.

"Mr. Huang Lang, lunch is ready, please rest for a while!"

He was wearing a sweat-absorbing square scarf on his head. Hearing this, Mr. Weasel took off the scarf and touched his face, then turned his head and looked under the shade of the tree.

The little squirrel was standing under the shade of the tree, with a big fluffy tail behind him, and the mottled sunlight fell on his small floral apron through the gaps between the leaves, looking peaceful and beautiful!

Oh!Oh, God!

This little squirrel is so darn sweet!

Please give him to me quickly, for the sake of piety, I will sacrifice a year of the life of Uncle Goat who lives next to my apartment.

Mr. Weasel dropped the tool in his hand and ran towards the shade of the tree.

Mr. Squirrel has already spread a picnic cloth with strawberry plaid on the grass.

The beautifully colored macaron biscuits in the center of the tablecloth have different flavors.

The pale pink one is peach, the light green one is kiwi fruit, the bright yellow one is lemon, and the frosty red one is strawberry.

Mr. Weasel sat rigidly on the picnic cloth, nervous as if he was having sex with a goblin for the first time, he stretched out his paws, wondering which biscuit to grab?

Mr. Squirrel was much more casual. He picked up his favorite little strawberry flavor and gnawed it with relish.

Seeing the little squirrel eating so happily, Mr. Weasel almost drooled, so he simply closed his eyes and randomly grabbed a piece and stuffed it into his mouth.

The faint peach flavor melted in his mouth, and Mr. Weasel squinted his eyes, wanting to cry with happiness.

God!Is this the taste of Beloved Wife Bento?

After eating the peach-flavored biscuits, he grabbed a kiwi-flavored one with his left paw, and a lemon-flavored one with his right paw. He opened his mouth wide and stuffed them together, chewing crunchy.

As a result, when he swallowed, he accidentally choked. Mr. Weasel's eyes protruded. He quickly picked up the passion fruit tea on the side, bit the straw and sipped it, and emptied the full jar.

Hearing a thud, the expression on Mr. Weasel's face became extraordinarily comfortable. He leaned back, patted his belly with his paws, and belched loudly.

Seeing this scene, Mr. Squirrel stared wide-eyed, and the biscuit in his paw fell to the tablecloth with a fright.

Mr. Weasel didn't realize how rude he had just behaved until he was full.

He hurriedly straightened up, trying to eat like a gentleman again, so as to save his image in the little squirrel's mind.

But he had already eaten all the macaron biscuits, and he also drank all his portion of passion fruit tea.

There was no way, Mr. Weasel could only focus on the remaining gardenias on the plate.

He cleared his throat and pinched the snow-white gardenia with his orchid claws.

Gently picked off its petals, slowly put it into his open cherry mouth, chewed and swallowed it with great enjoyment.

"Oh! No kind of love is more real than the love of food!"

"It would be a better world if more goblins loved food and poetry more than gold coins."

While eating, I did not forget to rack my brains to search for some words of praise for the food, so as to highlight my elegant taste.

After Mr. Weasel ate a whole gardenia, he picked his teeth gracefully with the remaining flower stalk.

After doing all this, he turned his attention to Mr. Squirrel again, wanting to see the little squirrel's reaction?

As a result, the little squirrel's expression became more and more weird.

I saw him frowning, staring at Mr. Weasel for a long time, then suddenly sighed after a while, and shook his head helplessly!

Why!Hopeless!It has developed to an advanced stage!

Mr. Squirrel picked up the strawberry biscuit from the tablecloth, hugged it again and started to chew, but he silently prayed for Mr. Weasel in his heart.

oh!Holy mouse Maria!Please save this poor weasel!

His wisdom was taken away by the evil Satan, leaving only a stupid head!

The air suddenly became quiet!

The scene once became difficult to close!

Mr. Weasel awkwardly picked at the weeds beside the tablecloth with his paws, wishing he could find a crack in the ground and get in.

God, send an angel to save him!

Why does every performance he thinks is a plus, end up as a crematorium for the dead?

Already afraid to think about what kind of image he was in the little squirrel's mind, Mr. Weasel stood up with a 'swish', and rushed back to the small tree house to continue working, intending to use physical fatigue to forget the psychological shame.

After another afternoon of chiseling, it was still a tree hole as far as the eye could see, not a storage room at all.

But Mr. Weasel is not in a hurry, the skyscrapers rise from the ground, where is this going?

Seeing that the evening was approaching, Mr. Weasel decided to end today's work first.

On the side, the little squirrel has already prepared dinner for him, which is an fried egg sandwich.

There is also a small cup of mint tea, which is refreshing and cool. One sip will wipe away all the hard work of the day!

Ah, if you can eat the little squirrel's love bento every day in the future, how wonderful life will be!

Because the cabin was demolished, Mr. Weasel thought that the little squirrel could only sleep in the forest tonight.

Originally, he was supposed to ride his bicycle back to his apartment in the small town of Varta to spend the night, but he had the opportunity to be alone in front of him, and he would not leave even if he was killed!

Covering a heart that wanted to steal, Mr. Weasel pretended to be confused, and asked treacherously: "Little monster, how are you going to spend the night tonight?"

Hearing this, Mr. Squirrel held his chin and began to think seriously: "Well, I thought about it, I'd better go to Brother Field Mouse's house to stay for one night!" After speaking, he actually started to pack his luggage.

What?vole?Still big brother?

Where did this come from again?Why doesn't he know?

Mr. Weasel was very anxious, but on the surface he pretended to be calm, pretending to be casual: "Little monster, do you have a good relationship with this big brother field mouse?"

The little squirrel nodded without thinking, and replied, "Very good, Brother Field Mouse is a very warm-hearted mouse. We all live in the countryside of Varta Town, and neighbors need to help each other."

What?Enthusiastic?What did the field mouse do to the little squirrel?Why are you so warm-hearted?

Mr. Weasel couldn't hold his breath anymore. He rolled up his sleeves and bowed his waist, like a firecracker that was about to be ignited, and asked in a fierce tone: "Where does the field mouse live? Tell me quickly!"

Startled by Mr. Weasel's sudden change of attitude, the little squirrel put down the pajamas that had just been neatly folded in its paws, tilted its head and asked suspiciously: "Why are you looking for Brother Vole? Do you want to stay overnight?"

Overnight?How can it be?

There is only one way to deal with a rival in love, and that is duel!