Volume 10 - Issue 4
18-April-2001
The Duck! I curse its very name. It has been following me for four weeks now, day and night, breakfast and lunch. Its red eyes sparkle ferociously, its tiny little teeth glint in the moonlight. I have to keep moving or it’ll start chewing me again. If anybody knows how to remove a duck from one’s body, please tell me.
There are many more articles floating around RSS headquarters at the moment (literally, Agent Ellz has been playing with his anti-gravity device), which will be put in the next issue. Keep sending in your reports.
The Master Hunter
theMaster@RabidSquirrels.co.uk
We were attacked most heinously last week; all but three of
our crack basilisk regiment (I am the king of serpents, not the basilisk!) were
mown down under a hail of squirrel fire. Yes, fire, fire and brimstone - actually
it was gravel, but the effect is much the same. They came at night, while most
of us were asleep, too cold-blooded to fight back, they set our palace alight,
my palace in fact, my own personal house, now where am I meant to live?! Gits.
And whilst we were ablaze they moved in for the kill, they swept through the
darkness and cut us down like small things - to be fair, most of us are small,
but that is entirely irrelevant, they were sporting weapons we had not seen
before, weapons with a ferocity and deadly power only imagined in the minds of
those among us who have special treatment for psychiatric disorders -
particularly ones involving burning things. The brimstone (gravel) came pouring
in from great ballistae carried on the backs of the biggest of the squirrels -
some of them over eighteen units of measurement high - whether it was feet,
inches, centimetres, millimetres or miles I couldn't say, I am not familiar
with human ways of measuring things - we use quarks and gluons (or is that
particle physics?), but suffice to say, they were big! Mutator Merys has
clearly been hard at work. I sent off my fastest runners/ slitherers/ scuttlers
at once but, there being no sun, they soon found themselves unable to move well
and the rabids soon dispatched them. All around I could hear the raging battle,
some escaped, though many who did so were quietly dealt with in the dark, by
the squirrel commandos. I escaped with only a few of my lizards - my komodo
body guards were almost all wiped out in the ensuing carnage. Our forces are in
tatters; we are in dire need of your help. The lull in squirrel attacks before
the amassed offensive that almost destroyed us was clearly the calm before the
storm, if there any good is to come of this then you must be always aware of
suspicious developments, particularly in the area of lagging viciousness on the
squirrels part,
Yours in a pool of the blood of my dying comrades,
Eponymous Biro, Lizard King.
My subjects, once so loyal, have risen up against me and
attempted to overthrow me, only a very small group remains loyal to me, mainly
geckos, but a few monitors and several I don't recognise - despite being king
(they might be in disguise, but at the moment I can't afford to be picky at the
moment). I only just managed to maintain my position as king over all lizards
(and those snakes that choose to comply), I am still here with what remains of
my once great nation, but we are weakened, severely weakened. I am in dire need
of your help. Since we were decimated in the terrors of last week's attack
morale has gone further and further down hill, with every passing day. We
called for your help and you didn't come, we fought like devils, throwing
ourselves into the fray with a terrible ferocity, held back only bye cold and
the equal ferocity of the squirrels, but they fought with no nobility to hold
them back, we were cut to ribbons. Where were you when we needed you RSS? Is
our alliance worth nothing? I now call to you again, now more desperate even
than then I call to you again - I am in dire need of your assistance to regain
my kingdom, I have enough loyal subjects to form the core of an army, but we
have no desire to enter into guerrilla warfare - I NEED YOUR HELP! Please.
Yours with some amount of desperation,
Eponymous Biro, Lizard King.
COMMUNIQUÉ – RE. EATEN BY MULTIPLE ORGANISMS.
Suddenly, the polar bear felt a rumble in his regions. Agent 00’Leary emerged. “Mint!” he said. “What?” the onlookers said. As they looked on, Agent 00’Leary looked troubled. He looked down, only to realise he had turned into a slavering, angry, Termite-infested wild man. Using all of his wit, he exclaimed, “Moo!” and set off into the wilderness to continue his mission.
Upon the grassy knoll, two lone gunmen were sharing a dog-end. The dog was extremely unhappy about this, and was barking loudly. Then, suddenly, surprisingly, and totally out of the blue trees, Agent 00’Wild completely failed to see them on his way to complete his mission.
Once upon a time, always upon a time, that’s what my Granny used to say, and the same goes for all slavering madmen. For agent 00’Wild was indeed upon a time (he had just trod on someone’s watch) “Bleeargh!” he said, and went to continue his mission.
As the RSS HEEDKARTERS (sorry, lapsed into loud Scottish there) loomed into view, Agent 00’Wild looked at it. His mission was nearly complete. This calmed him down, and with a diggory splat, he reverted into 00’Leary.
Walking in, agent 00’Leary saw Eponymous Biro, and said “Biro, Charlie says Hi.” “Thanks,” said Eponymous.
Agent 00’Leary’s mission was complete.
Recently I was walking in the woods (although obviously not near farmland) and all of a sudden I was beset by a ferocious gang of rabid squirrels of a type never seen before. They attacked using leaves of razor sharpness that they blew out of a Dyson running backwards. This incredibly advanced group of rabid squirrels seem to be a breakaway clan from Merys’ laboratory assistants and now attack viciously using advanced technology. These squirrels are recognisable by their enlarged craniums, which presumably give them extra intelligence. Recent intelligence reports suggest that these genetic modifications make the squirrels highly unstable both in body and mind. Consequently they will viciously attack anything that comes within range of their awesome firepower. This creates problems in attempted missions in which other clans try to work with them. There are also problems in that their bodily instabilities mean that at the slightest touch they will spontaneously combust with the power of a small nuclear device. They have however created personal forcefields that enable them to live for brief periods of time. In this reporters opinion this is a highly dangerous clan that should be eradicated as soon as rabidly possible due to the unacceptable threat to my species.
Top agent of the Strolling Oak Trees
This report may be unreliable due to the untruthful nature of the reporter although it does make good reading.
The strolling oak trees are in fact a species of strolling oak trees (see Lord of the Rings for details).
Convince the gourmets of the world of the rare flavour and make a fortune (for the cause) by selling oven ready rabid squirrel (tree ratatooey) to the restaurant trade.
A possible use for the rabid squirrel carcasses is rocket fuel. After extensive tests I have found that a single carcass filled with alcohol will be quite sufficient to launch a rocket over 100 yards. These squirrels may be used in a large scale to replace gas or coal.
You want a use for dead rabid squirrels? Rabid squirrel footballs! Great for the XFL... Ah, yes, a bit messy... but it adds to the fun... and the ratings, for that matter. You might even be able to get funding by selling commercials. There's a flock of companies that ended up losing out when they bought into the XFL, maybe they'll want to jump on a different bandwagon.
I have a use for dead rabid squirrels - you can tie a string to its tail, hang it somewhere and use it for target practice!
I think you should study to see what makes them go so psycho or burn them.
RSS mission answer for Invaluable Rabids: use them for bait to lure the rabids to your cover then jump out and attack.
You could experiment
new weapons on their dead carcasses.
Or maybe to develop a new form a squirrel energy you can burn them in a gigantic incinerator and the energy produced could be sold so the agency can then buy guns for it's agents.
Put several large nuclear missiles in some of the dead squirrels then leave them to be found. When the funeral starts blow the whole lot of them and watch them burn.
I believe that the best use for dead squirrel would to make them into accessories, such as shoes, handbags, and hats.
Above all though I believe the ultimate would be to make clothes for all the diseased children over seas, after all they have been making ours for years. It's about time we give something back.
Get them stuffed and re-enact some of your greatest battles, or just place them in front of your house as a barrier and a warning to the other tree rats!
The past three days I’ve been out in the woods on a recon mission scouting rabid squirrel outposts. It seems the rabid squirrels are planning something big here on the eastern U.S. coast. There are large encampments (not just outposts) massing in the woods behind my house. I fear the worst for Agent Weasel and I are the only RSS agents in close proximity to the mass of rabid squirrels. This is my one and only cry for help. I will lead an attack on the rabid squirrels in 5 days along with a squadron of bats that live close to me. If you are willing to help me or if you know any allied groups on the eastern U.S. coast please tell me.
Agent Dylan
Agent Barton, reporting for duty, sir. Glad to be aboard. As
for my first mission, I have been assigned to give ways of recycling the
remains of old squirrel carcasses. Well, I have a few good ideas, some of
which are actually in use now.
*Clean out the innards and use them as mittens. Very warm, comfy, and oh
so
stylish!
*Again, clean 'em and stick ‘em on your ears. Earmuffs. Trendy!
*They make handy pager/cell phone cases.
*Makes - GREAT! - dolls for your little sibling to play with.
*Flatten them. Makes a good mouse pad.
*Connect two by a string and toss 'em over your rear-view mirror. Better
than fuzzy dice!!
010327
20:45 hours
*transmission aborted*
Date: March 27 Place: outside, again I was milling around out side looking for rabids with my shovel which I decided was not a very good weapon due to the wound from my little incident on March 13, I now can only hold the shovel with one hand... meaning it wont be as strong a weapon as before. So anyway there I was walking through my woods when I tripped a wire, which turned out to be a trap made by the rabids because it made a loud and annoying sound. I was lying on the ground with part of my pants leg pulled up and a rabid scurried up and seemed to be ready to bite. I shouted in a very loud and hi-pitched volume WOLOLOOOO! The rabid was so frightened that he jumped up and hit his head on a tree branch. 3 more rabids came, this time heavily armed. One was holding a large mechanical claw, but the others hand 2 uzis in each hand. The one with the claw stretched out and ripped my wounded arm away from my body. I screamed with agony. I got out my radio and called up another RSS member, who is also my next-door neighbour, and he came running out with a sniper rifle. He quickly and accurately picked off the rabids. After that, all I remember was white light, major pain, and twinkies. I woke up lying on a table in my neighbour’s lab. He was going to put on an artificial arm, but I insisted on something else. I told him to put on a mechanical arm/anti-rabid missile launcher. So now, I feel a little more confident when I go out.
Agent Weasel
2.35 pm Suggest:
1) Dry squirrels naturally or by the addition of anhydrous minerals
2) Mechanical breakdown using whatever methods. Suggest big wellies, sheer
animal force or shaking table with hammer.
3) Bag up essence of squizzer in attractive packaging.
4) Sell to posh people as beauty product!
The utilisation of this method will quite literally swell our coffers enabling
us to buy stuff!
Agent Poggle
Continued from issue 10-2.
Full story available from: http://members.sitegadgets.com/chriswatling/story.html
So, with the words "a watched pot never boils"
00'Leary put the kettle on to make more tea, while Mr. Brooks and the master
hunter went off, to find the Suspiciously Large Chemistry Teacher with the idea
of either offering it a counselling course to help it cope with the horrific
addiction to human flesh that it had, or to kill it as it was clearly spawning
evil squirrels which were intent on taking over the world. After three or four
months hunting in the deepest bush and swampland they stumbled across 00'Leary,
lying in a poll of what can only be described as [15] (sorry, I meant to
say pool, not poll, and I also apologise for other spelling mistakes I may have
made) [16] jam [17], strawberry jam to be precise, [18] or so the intrepid
agents thought at first [19] however, on closer inspection it turned out to
be...blackberry jam! [20] The agents' attention was momentarily distracted by
the curious sight of 00'Leary in his jammy state and whilst their collective
head was tilted towards the ground they heard a noise behind them - they turned
back to the prone form of 00'Leary, but he had disappeared, staggering of into
the bush, leaving a jammy trail in his wake and looking for all the world like
an artist's impression of King Lear on the heath, the noise behind them sounded
again and [21] from out of the bush leapt the Suspiciously Large Chemistry
Teacher!
[insert dramatic music here]
And out of his mouth hung the jam-covered left leg of Agent 00'Leary! The leg
still moved, 00'Leary was still alive, but that was the least of the slayers
concerns right now, for the Suspiciously Large Chemistry Teacher ran to them
and attacked with a [22] haddock, viciously beating them about the head with
the frozen fish. He succeeded in knocking the gallant Mr. Brooks unconscious,
whilst the heroic Master Hunter battled on. The Suspiciously Large Chemistry
teacher then let out a horrific sound and from the bush stepped an Unusually
Hairy Physics Lecturer, a Professor Of Biology With Eight Legs and a Geophysicist
with no special features other than an unhealthy liking for treacle. The
scientists began circling like a pack of circling things moving in for the
kill, it looked like there was no way of escape for the stout, brave,
courageous, dauntless, fearless agents but then [23] the master hunter
pulled from his hat a large and ferocious polar bear which liked nothing more
than eating squirrels and their allies. [24] However, this particular
polar bear was having a particularly bad day. Not only was his pet gerbil
threatening to eat his pineapple collection, but he had a particularly wobbly
tooth. As you may have noticed this polar bear liked the word 'particular'. It
made him feel special. Bless him.
Anyhoo, the polar bear noticed the Suspiciously Large Chemistry Teacher and his
particularly hungry stomach (see he couldn't eat very well, what with his
wobbly tooth) took over his senses. He glared at the Suspiciously Large
Chemistry Teacher and he positively shook with... well, I think it was
annoyance. But you never can tell with bears.
He leapt on him, as he was a squirrel ally (this is really going nowhere) and
bit particularly hard (for a bear with a sore tooth), forgetting about ol'
Agent 00'Leary and all that jam! I mean, polar bears don't even like jam!
[25] Aber dieses polar bär magt marmalade und er isst 00’Leary. Wann er hat
firtigt er sagt “Es schmekt mir gut. Ich mag dass marmalade” und er weggeht zu
mehr marmalade finden. [26] Just then the rabid squirrel began to lick
himself transmorafying his body into that of... dare I say it... Mr. Hinton,
the most foul of all creatures [27] that stalk the night in Colchester. It
is well documented that the Mr. Hinton-squirrel is a terribly fearsome beast,
but luckily the Master Slayer had studied the behavioural patterns of Mr.
Hintons and had written an 180000000 word dissitation on the subject so he knew
just what to do. He picked up the prone body of Mr. Brooks and [28] swung it at
the Mr. Hinton with considerable force. The Mr. Hinton was somewhat taken aback
by the early deployment of Monk's parallel in the fight as it was an archaic
tactic, generally used only by MeerKhats Rank, but the Master Hunter had bought
himself some time, he prepared to take another swing, but suddenly [29] mr
brooks mutated into... a swiss keyboard [30] and started to play 5678 by
that lovable band Steps.
The Master Hunter and Mr. Hinton collapsed in agony. Mr. Hinton gasped in pain,
leaving his mouth open. Into this wide void crawled the polar bear that had
eaten the suspiciously large chemistry teacher, who had eaten 00'Leary, who had
eaten the jam. A sudden burst of indigestion hit the greatly fattened Mr.
Hinton, who then exploded into [31] Ghandi. Which was nice.
Jumping up, Agent 00'Leary rose up the epiglottis of all the creatures whom et
him (including the Jam). He drew a pretty picture, took his gum out of his
hatpin and shot Ghandi with it, to be on the safe side of danger. Suddenly, Mr.
Brooks Spontaneously transfigured into all the instruments of the alphabet, and
regained his quantum stability. Which was nice.
[32] Or so 00'Leary thought until Mr. Brooks, in his current
guise as all the instruments of the alphabet rose up against the hated
oppressors and shot all the pigeons he could find for fear of reprisals. Mr. Brooks
then emitted a sound which sounded suspiciously like "merp" and with
a puff of an agent (agent Morris had just appeared) he turned back in to
himself. Mr. Brooks took this opportunity to reflect on the events of the day
so far - the day so far had been an uncommonly long one, three or four months
at least, and had been packed with what can only be described as mad taxi
drivers, scientists of varying descriptions, German Polar bears, jam and tea.
He surveyed the scene around him and decided that if things didn't get easier
soon he'd have to find a new line of work, but then he realised that with him
gone there would be no-one to rid the world of evil rabid squirrels and their
kind - 00'Leary was obsessed with tea, and unreliable at the best of times, and
recently even the Master Hunter had been getting distracted easily. He had to
stay and look after mankind. He stared dramatically into the distance while he
pondered this but was wrenched out of his reverie by an ominous and sudden
quacking... [33] The duck had returned. [34] The Master Hunter must
have heard it too as he stopped what he was doing at once and froze, rooted to
the spot. The only creature he feared was here - the duck that had held him
hostage and bitten off his nose (it was chewing for at least three months), the
duck that had overpowered Mr. Brooks and the guards and broken into Slayer HQ
to attack the Master, the duck that worked for King Fuzzball himself. The Magic
Carrot, the only true rival for the duck, was nowhere to be seen, the duck was
advancing menacingly - or it could have had something stuck in its beak -
either way, it wore a strange expression. The Master remained rooted to the
spot, Mr. Brooks was still collecting his wits (he'd dropped them when he
turned back to himself after being the alphabet personified in music) there was
only 00'Leary and agent Morris to save the heroic Master. 00'Leary sprang into
action in a manner neither Mr. Brooks or the Master Hunter had seen before, he
leapt to his feet - he'd left lying on the ground some distance away - and
threw his tea all over [35] agent Morris, who had dived onto the duck to
save his leaders from it's terrible powers [36]. The tea scalded agent
Morris so badly that his skin peeled away, leaving the duck a freshly prepared
meal which he began to devour. 00'Leary took this opportunity to put the kettle
on to make more tea. By the time the fresh tea had been made the duck had
almost finished agent Morris and 00'Leary and Mr. Brooks (whose wits were now
back in their bag) quickly drank their tea and seized the Master Hunter, who
had been watching the gruesome scene in horror, under his armpits and carried
him, complaining that he didn't like being tickled, off back to Slayer
HQ. [37]
When the ragged collection of agents got back to Slayer HQ Mr. Brooks said he
had to do something and disappeared so 00'Leary and the Master Hunter entered
HQ without him. Inside they found Special Agent Myself lying on the floor,
surrounded by copies of the Radio Times and wearing a large orange glove on his
head. They revived him by throwing a bucket of jam that they scraped off
00'Leary's boots over him and asked him what he'd been doing. He said that he
was "checking for cats" and they decided to leave it at that.
Suddenly Special Agent Myself let out an almighty wail and declared "It's
not easy being a spy you know! It's alright for you lot, sitting here in your
comfy HQ drinking your tea, but for some of us life is very different you know!
Those Aston Martins don't drive themselves you know". However, at that
moment an Aston Martin decided to drive itself through the wall into HQ and
Myself disappeared. Mr. Brooks came in a second later and said "You won't
believe what's going on outside, there's a [38] huge sale on now!!! They're
practically giving away Aston Martins. Get down to your local dealer and buy
one today!" - yes h had been turned into an over-excited salesman, there
were clearly dark goings on afoot. The Master Hunter noted this down and turned
back to the tele program he'd been watching, telling 00'Leary to go and see
what [39] the tea was doing (like he needed telling!), and asking Mr.
Brooks to purchase them an Aston Martin each. "Preferably in British
racing green," the Master Hunter added as Mr. Brooks left the room.
The Master Hunter looked around. He was in RSS headquarters, alone (except for
00'Leary). He relaxed. [40]
The story continues: http://members.sitegadgets.com/chriswatling/story.html
THAT’S THE WAY TO DO IT
I agree with the concerned member of the public quoted at
the end of the most recent Rabid Times (9-2), we are a disgusting group of
individuals, we should all be shot, we are all stupid and... no, wait I don't
think that at all, hang on...in fact, we are none of the above and anyone who
is ignorant enough to believe that you [we - the RSS] are promoting cruelty to
animals should be hung by their own gizzard frops, or at least made to undergo
severe negotiations regarding their puppy-dog fantasy world, if you get any
more "fan-mail" please let me answer it - I shall re-align their
perceptions, and, failing that I shall hand them over to the ministry, which
ministry I don't know, but it shall be done, and afterwards they will feel much
more truthful...
Mr. Brooks
Next issue: 29-April-2001
WARNING: STARTLING FURRY OBJECT APPROACHING
(c) Rabid Publications