@simiansmoke
He's still kicking dirt back at the plant because it's making him feel BETTER - and hey, plants liked dirt, right? It was a win-win. But maybe not since before he can get his last little stamp and scrape in, the ground erupts under him and before he can determine what it is, he's lifted up by chest and belly and hog tied in place again. Great.
Kicking at air and swatting ahead of him, he looked like he was having a hard time swimming (well- drowning) in the air and strained to look back over his shoulder to flash a fang at that twerp of a plant. "Uhhh - I'm still going with they definitely shouldn't!"
It's the thorns digging in that has him flexing harder than the day after a bean-bowl supreme when all that fiber made him pudgier than Bowser on Bowser's better days. Sucking in at least helps them not break the skin once his fur protection was penetrated. "MY place? You mean - ON THE GROUND?! Sure! I'd love to go!"
Parting his mouth to start gnawing on a vine, he gets a blast of purple dust in it instead and sputters, coughing and shaking his head furiously to try and clear any of the violet spores still hanging around him. When he hacked all the air out of him in defense of the plant poison, he just breathed in another wave when it failed to clear fast enough, and he chokes and paws the air blindly as if he were reaching for a familiar sink-side towel to roll his face around on.
At the end of the fit, his limbs go limp and his body's forced to relax in the thorny grip. "Ugghh-ooough..." A low groan escapes him, followed by a little, "Gross."
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Seeming plenty satisfied with her work, the plant unravels all its vines in a near-instant, letting the kong fall to the earth with a heavy thud. “I’d take this as a lesson if I were you, banana-brains.” The plant slinks down close to the ape’s snout, sneering with a malice so potent it could be bottled.
“You ain’t the king of shit. Don’t go messing with things bigger than yourself, buddy.” Vines return to the pot, as a few dust off the dirt kicked onto the terra cotta. It pouts, attempting to clean a scuff to no avail, before returning fully to its planter and protruding some roots through the drainage holes and making its way off to some unknown.










