Unlike the Minutia Maven, the Crashing Bore is far from polite. The Greater Crashing Bore will, under proper circumstances, force the subject of his fascination on everyone around them and demand they participate. The Lesser Crashing Bore, on the other hand, chooses to involve themself in other people's activities, and can quickly change them from pleasurable pastimes to opportunities to display their lack of social graces.
Preferred stalking grounds include dormitories, bad live-action games, other people's parties, and anywhere beer is available.
Loud clothing is common among younger Bores, and some enhance their offensiveness by cultivating bad grooming, potbellies, bad breath, and unusual body odor. Older Bores will further their complete disregard for the sensibilities of others by harboring a penchant for anachronistic and tasteless fashion, such as two-tone shoes, half-zipped chinos, and dress shirts buttoned to the very top.
- Although I regard myself as a modest and sensible pooka, I quite lost my temper with a young man who interrupted my reverie with a sizable warren of my lapine cousins. In the midst of my delightful discussion with a young rabbit about the availability of dandelions in the vicinity, he began screaming about how delightful he was to see so much "rabbit meat" around. He began chasing the rabbits around the field, trampling dandelions, and alarming does throughout the warren. I was forced to convince him that he was no longer a human, but actually a mobile dandelion. He was summarily terrorized by three rabbits who chased him throughout the forest and threatened to eat his leafy bits.
- I have only once been able to converse with an actual vampire. I had been called upon to negotiate a treaty between the sewer-dwelling Nosferatu and a family of sluagh. The representative of the Nosferatu appeared to me as a strikingly beautiful yet tragically pale creature dressed in the height of Gothic fashion. I accommodated her tastes in fashion by wearing a tasteful, yet informal, ruffled shirt. Not long after our discussion began, we were met by an unsightly fellow in a black t-shirt who began to question us at great length on whether we were vampires. He then explained how immensely "cool" every aspect of vampiric life was, informed us of his devotion to Black Dog games, asked us about "live action," and challenged us repeatedly to games of "rock, paper, scissors." I replied that I was not a vampire but actually a giant shapeshifting rabbit who was merely trying to find his way back to Arcadia. He said that he wasn't part of that plot and summarily ran off to find someone to give him "experience" for the evening.