Animal sticker book

Rice-grain small, and already through the hedge.

One buzz, one splat, then gone.

Dives into a crate at the first shadow. Braver than it looks.

One look and it already knows which bush is yours.

Slow as a wardrobe. You will need more than a polite splat.

Biggest thing on the field. Hiding is a joke. So is one shot.

Big mane, bigger walk, acts like the referee.

The stripes vanish in the hedge until the shot.

Waddles, falls over, gets up, still shooting.

Hugs the wall, then the paint comes out of nowhere.

Eight arms. Good luck spotting the one with the gun.

Hops once and your careful aim paints a crate.

Quiet as a library, then one loud splat.

Talks more than it shoots. Believe none of it.

Floats around looking pretty. One hit and the wings complain.

Walks sideways, pinches sideways, and the shots go sideways too.

Drifts like it is napping, then you are purple.

Orange stripes, worse jokes, laughs after the splat.

Pulls into the shell and waits until you get bored.

Ears up, then gone behind a crate.

Stands in the doorway until the whole team takes the long way.

Smiles, then walks you down the wrong lane.

Calm, until the paint lands. Then the moo is huge.

Round, hard to dodge, harder to stay mad at.

Pretends not to care, then lands the only shot that matters.

Wags at its own team and shoots the other one with too much joy.

Half asleep, standing in the wrong lane, still cute.

Thinking about bamboo. Paint on the fur is just a fallen leaf.

Climbs a crate, teases you, shoots after the laugh.

Quacks the whole yard awake, then somehow wins.

Crows once and the yard thinks the match is over. Then it shoots again.

Charges in a straight line. Standing in it is a paint job.

So fluffy the paint looks like a cloud that sat down.

Treats every crate like a mountain, then headbutts the neighbor.

Stripes next to stripes. The other team aims at the wrong row.

Acts like the pack is here, even when the lane is empty.

Stuffs the plan in its cheeks and laps the crate three times.

Cheeks full, legs short, still inside the crate before the splat.

So white that standing still looks like a snow pile with aim.

One chest thump and the other side takes a step back.

Smiles, arcs, and the paint follows the curve.

Remembers the lane for three seconds, then swims into the right one.

Balances on one leg for the look. Falls over, still pink.

Glides like a show, then the wings open and the paint is out.

Fans the tail across the lane. The other team aims at the fan.