The great debate

Once upon a time, all of the Tasmanian marsupials got together to decide who was the cutest.

"Clearly, it's me," said the quoll, flicking his long, bushy tail as he spoke. "I have the most beautiful spotted pattern, and I'm a natural redhead."

"And I crawl around in trees and take naps in the branches --- just like a koala! So clearly ---"

"Clearly," interrupted the wombat in a huffy tone of voice, "you haven't looked in a mirror lately. You think anyone is going to vote you the cutest? Look at your teeth!"

"You're a carnivore, for crying out loud! You jump down from trees and eat baby pademelons!" There were some murmurs of assent at this, and the baby pademelon gave a squeak and crawled deeper into his mother's pouch.

"Well...well, I don't think that's ---" the quoll began, but the wombat was too worked up to listen. (They're stubborn like that.)

"If anyone is going to win the title of cutest, it's going to be me," the wombat insisted. "Just look at my perfect little button nose."

"And have you seen my little daughter? Her ears alone should clinch it --- they're just perfect!"

"Did you know, just the other day, she was nibbling on some grass and making the cutest snuffling sounds --- weren't you, my adowable widdle button-pie?"

At this delicate juncture there arose a quiet but ill-concealed guffaw from the back of the assembly. "Who did that?" insisted the wombat, looking around angrily --- a difficult task considering that her head was rather poorly differentiated from her neck. "How dare anyone laugh at me!"

"Oh, it was me," confessed the pademelon, not at all embarrassed. "I was just thinking that you look more like a furry coffee table than a proper marsupial."

"Why --- wh --- well, I never!" the wombat huffed, choking with rage. "Why you...you...I..."

As the wombat trailed off into a string of unprintable insults, the pademelon drew herself up to her full height (a mere three feet), and declaimed, "Kangaroos are well-known to be some of the cutest animals around. As a miniature kangaroo, I am obviously even cuter."

"My joey pokes his head out of my pouch in the absolutely most cute fashion, and I hop through the forest like a bunny --- but better!" the pademelon continued, running her little claws (rather vainly, it must be said) through her matted brown fur.

"Yeah, but have you seen your tail?" put in the Tasmanian devil testily. "Hopping like a bunny is fine as far as it goes, but from the back you look like a giant, ugly rat."

"Besides," added the devil, "if anyone is going to be the cutest Tasmanian marsupial, it should be me. I'm the only one of you who's found only here! And I'm bleedin' adorable!"

"And when it come to babies...well! Just have a look at one of my four little joeys, just out of the pouch. Have you ever seen anything that cute?"

"I'll grant you that the babies are cute," responded the pademelon in an belated attempt to be diplomatic, "but I'm just about ready to disqualify you on the basis of your pig-squealing alone."

"And you're an obnoxious carrion-eater," grumbled the wombat under her breath. Luckily no one heard her over the devil's outraged howling.

"I'll give you pig-squealing, you runty, rat-tailed excuse for a mammal!"

"Who are you calling runty, you pea-brained ---"

"Oh, and just what do you know about brains, winner of the Miss Squished-By-A-Car championships for ten years running?"

"Hey! I won that title!" put in the wombat. "And I refuse to listen to any more of your bad attitude, you nasty, disease-ridden pest!"

"I wasn't talking to you, you lumpy barrel with legs!"

"And I wasn't talking to you, you muddle-headed moron!"

"Who do you think you're calling a moron, you pathetic, brainless bit of quoll-bait!"

"You leave me out of this!"

As the debate raged on through the night, louder and louder, the last remaining thylacine snuggled deeper into her cave, a contented smile playing about her lips. "Soon," she thought. "Soon..."