
The knockkneed flinx is one of those creatures that its friends describe as "a great guy, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer." Good-natured and not terribly bright, the flinx's slowness of wit is more than made up for by its swiftness of foot. When startled by something (alarm calls, scary clouds, its own feet), the flinx can achieve speeds of up to fifty miles an hour, unless it gets distracted and blunders into something. While few predators can outrace the flinx, they can virtually all outwit it, to the point where most self-respecting carnivores consider hunting flinx to be unsportsmanlike. The leading cause of death for flinx therefore continues to be mishaps, like falling off cliffs, running into trees, and sticking their heads in geyers to see where that noise is coming from.
Small herds of these amiable creatures dot the great savannahs, and at dawn and dusk, when the flinx is most active, one can hear their majestic and somewhat baffled calls--"Gronk? Gronk?"--ringing through the twilight.
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A random desire to create some weird animals led to the knockkneed flinx. Which gronks. Everything gronks. My husband gronks. If I created the universe, my first words would have been "Let there be gronk!" Anyway, a quick little watercolor/colored pencil, in this 9 x 12 watercolor sketchbook I keep poking at. Original is for sale, drop a line, prints available for $10, visit [link]
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Stolen wholesale from
(Having gotten clarification on the rightness of linking in this manner, I have unlocked the post and updated the time)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-14 06:30 pm (UTC)That was nice.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-14 06:35 pm (UTC)I should probably lock this post until I get a response.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-15 08:43 pm (UTC)