What's Up, Doc? Napoleon Bonaparte's Bunny Battle

For once, even Hell cracks a smile: the Devil narrates how Emperor Napoleon was ambushed by a swarm of fluffy bunnies. This dark humor podcast episode spins the legendary Napoleon bunny story into one gloriously epic fail, dripping with devilish jokes and supernatural satire. Twisted history tales don’t get wilder—fans of devil storytelling and funny historical fails will devour this hellish episode.

Transcript

Good evening. It is I. Your boss. Your ruler. The epitome of evil. The author of confusion. The one you humans comically depict as an all red being with horns and a pitchfork. The horns are accurate, and red is obviously my favorite color, but a pitchfork? Really? A pitchfork? You couldn't give me a badass sword or mace? But on the other hand, fuck all that medieval bullshit. I use a Glock now. But only in 10mm. The 45 caliber is THAT MAN'S caliber of choice. At least according to you meat bags. 

In any case, I've just returned from doing what I do best, collecting souls. Speaking of badass, my latest collection is from a rock climber who thought he was so high and mighty that he didn't need to use any type of equipment to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. I mean, come on. The proof is in the name. Kill a man? He should have known better. Everything was going well, too, until that one big "oops!" moment when he grabbed onto a loose rock and came tumbling down like Humpty Dumpty. But unlike Humpty, 2,000 feet in the air isn't the ideal height for the king's men to bring him back together again. Pride and rocks aren't exactly a good combination, I'm afraid. At least for you humans. In fact, ignore what I just said. You all have free will and all that. Nevermind, fuck that too. Why are you humans risk takers? Drake's motto of you only living once has made you all think about it too...literally. You don't think that street race isn't going to kill you or someone else eventually? You don't think that whore you fucking doesn't have an STD. Didn't that r&b group TLC told you hard headed meat bags not to chase waterfalls? And yet you all dive head first into Niagara Falls. In a barrel, no less! (Laughs). There is one thing I will say that I...tolerate about you humans. I respect your curiosity. You have that woman named Eve to thank for that.

But once again, I digress. You're here for another story time like it's an episode of "Between the cats or jaguars or sheets...whatever" that old kid's show from the 1990s. But today's theme is about humbling the mighty. It is not murder or heart disease that is the number one killer in the world. It's your human pride. But that doesn't necessarily mean that you all directly die from it. Sometimes, you're just embarrassed by it. This story is about the infamous Napoleon Bonaparte, which is considered one of the greatest military generals that ever lived. During his regime, he was one of the most feared men to ever stand on the battlefield. Which might come as a shock to you all to know that he was attacked by rabbits (laughs). Yes, those four-legged hopping bucktoothed rodents were one of the greatest foes Napoleon ever faced! And it was my fault.

Now, you humans unfortunately have free will, which means I can't...directly influence you to do evil. But of course, indirect influence is off the table. This rule also doesn't apply to animals, who don't know the logistics of right and wrong unless trained. Many more animal attacks would occur if their brains were just a little bit bigger to follow a command longer than 10 seconds. But in some ways, that's 10 seconds more than you humans scrolling through social media right now as I speak. 

So, Napoleon. A man whose ego was bigger than France itself. A man who could command an army of thousands and send them marching into battle without hesitation. A man who, despite all his tactical brilliance, never saw it coming. 

It all started in 1807. Napoleon, fresh off a string of victories, decided he needed a break. A little leisure time. You humans call it a "team-building exercise" now, but back then, it was just an excuse for the rich and powerful to show off. And what better way for a self-proclaimed Emperor to relax than by going on a rabbit hunt? 

Now, normally, a hunt involves tracking, strategy, a little patience—skills that a great general should already possess. But Napoleon? Oh no. He didn’t want to work for his sport. He ordered his chief of staff, Alexandre Berthier, to *procure* the rabbits for him. And Berthier, being the kind of suck-up who probably would’ve written “Napoleon is my best friend” in his diary, went *above and beyond*.  

The man didn’t just get a few rabbits. No, no. He gathered a couple *thousand* of them. You heard me right. A *small village's worth* of rabbits. But here’s where I come in. You see, normally, you’d get wild rabbits for a hunt. You know, ones that *actually run away* when faced with a man holding a gun. But Berthier, in all his military brilliance, sourced *domesticated* rabbits. Farm rabbits. Rabbits that had been raised by humans, fed by humans, and, most importantly—saw humans as their primary source of food.  

So when Napoleon and his men arrived, dressed in their fancy coats, puffed-up egos, and loaded rifles, the rabbits didn’t scatter. Oh no. They did something *much worse.*  

They *charged*.  

At first, it was a few dozen, then hundreds, and then *thousands* of rabbits, swarming Napoleon and his men like a furry tidal wave of vengeance.  

Napoleon, the so-called military genius, responded with the tactical grace of a man who just found a rat in his bathwater. He panicked. The man who had conquered half of Europe was now scrambling, tripping over his own feet, trying to escape an army of rodents that weighed, at most, five pounds each.  

His soldiers? *Also panicking.* Guns were useless—shoot one rabbit, and twenty more would take its place. And me? Oh, I was watching it all unfold with tears of laughter in my eyes.  

Napoleon tried to run. He scrambled onto his carriage, hoping to make a grand escape. But the rabbits? They weren’t done. They *followed*. Climbing up, clinging to his boots, launching themselves into the carriage like tiny, hopping revolutionaries. It was like the French Revolution all over again, except instead of angry peasants with torches, it was fluffy little demons with twitchy noses.  

Finally, Napoleon did the one thing no general ever wants to do. He *retreated.*  

His men, now thoroughly humiliated, scrambled into their carriages, whipping the horses into a desperate sprint, leaving behind a field of very confused but victorious rabbits.  

And so, the great Napoleon Bonaparte, the man who nearly conquered Europe, was officially bested by a bunch of fluffy, grass-munching lunatics.  

History books won’t tell you this, of course. No, they’ll tell you about his brilliant strategies, his reforms, his exile to Elba. But let’s be honest—what’s more important? The Battle of Austerlitz? Or the time he got his *ass handed to him by rabbits?*  

And that, my dear mortals, is what you call *irony*. Pride may come before the fall, but sometimes, it comes before a *bunny stampede.*  

So next time you’re feeling a little too big for your britches, just remember: If rabbits can humble Napoleon, what chance do *you* really have?  

That's all the precious time I have today for you fools. If you like what you heard, please feel free to follow me if you're not doing that already. And please, tell your friends about me. Advertising can be such...hell.