July 2001 – Issue XLIV
Ever been on an internet site and played one of those silly games? You know, the ones that run in a window. The ones that are almost always a disappointment when they have finally loaded onto the screen. Of course you have. Well guess what? We’re getting one! Can’t wait, can you? But you’ll have to – until the end of August at the earliest.
A new mission is available from the hidden pages. Please put strong locks on your doors before attempting this one.
The Master Hunter
E-Mail: theMaster@RabidSquirrels.co.uk
Website: www.RabidSquirrels.co.uk
Wapsite: http://tagtag.com/rabid
I have captured King Fuzzball the Almighty!!! I wish to be known forever more as Special Agent Myself the Magnificent Warrior who freed us all from terrible oppression. I would also like a knighthood, a castle, a large house in London, a little place in the country for weekends - Balmoral will do. I leave it up to you, the Master Hunter to arrange this for me and when it is done I shall... what... erm, wait a minute, he's trying to say something... you're not King Fuzzball? You're a what, sorry? A pigeon. Fine. Alright, apparently there's been a mistake. I shall rephrase my former rash claim. I've captured a pigeon, from now on I wish to be known as the Pigeon man. Damn.
Special Agent Myself - (the smiter of pigeons)
I am a rabid squirrel. In fact, I call myself Rabid Squirrel. I served King Fuzzball for 15 squirrel years. Then something miraculous happened. Attempting to confuse the RSS, Dr. Merys attempted to change the colour of rabid squirrel's eyes using the highly mysterious (and sparkly) CHEMICAL 143!!!
I was appointed to be the first to test it on. It hurt. A lot. I drifted into an irrelevant dream that involved a lot of ducks and a mouldy hot dog. Then I woke up. Suddenly I felt different, it was like waking up from a dream, (or maybe it was because I had just woken up from one) but one thing was for certain. I was un-rabid. Oh, I still had the long fangs and supreme strength and lust for blood, but one thing was different. I wanted to kill rabid squirrels.
In a wave of rage I bellowed: "KINTYABLAH!" and shot a blue laser from my now blue eyes and missed Dr. Merys by a mile (500 metres to be exact). Then I tried the same thing again. It didn't work. In fact, I could never shoot lasers from my eyes again. So I did what any psycho squirrel would do: I bit her. She tasted bad. Then I ran and hid in Iran for 2 years.
I am relieved to finally contact the RSS. BUT DO NOT BE FOOLED! After the incident Merys outfitted about 100 rabid squirrels with *gasp* BLUE CONTACT LENSES!!! I wish to hold a meeting with the Master Hunter and all other important members of the RSS to reveal many secret rabid squirrel projects. I will make another report soon. Good luck and goodbye.
Rabid Squirrel 143
??? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT ???
The Magic Carrot was joyously frolicking amongst the corn in its favourite field. Thoughts of rabid squirrels forgotten, it leapt high into the air, higher than a frog sat on a hedgehog. During its flight, the world went into slow motion – first the camouflaged squirrels hiding in the corn appeared, then they got out their large nets, then they shot a vegetable anaesthetic at the Magic Carrot. A direct hit.
What happens next? Answer at bottom.
THE ASSASSINS
Hello Agents. I’m Mustafa, and over there on the enlarged hamster wheel you will hear my partner Tuesday. We are assassins. Rabid assassins. Letting your eyes flick over to the RSS webpage, you’ll discover rabid assassins to be ‘that good, and have caused serious wounds with everything from a knife to a cockatoo.’ Which is a remarkably true statement; in fact upon graduation from assassin school one receives a laminated cockatoo for such purposes.
I know what your thinking, ‘hang on a minute, you’re a bad guy – why are you writing for us?’ Simply for intimidation. After reading our reports you will be too scared to leave your bathroom, let alone go out hunting. Mwahahahaaaa (yes, compulsory). Anyway, let me begin this tale from the briefing room of a very large tree.
“Mustafa! Tuesday! Get your scrawny little noses over here!”
It was Sly Backstabber. No one else could talk to us like that and get away with it.
“See this man?” He held up a photo of Special Agent Myself. “Kill him by dawn.”
Pausing only momentarily for a brief period of time, we grabbed our weapons from the aviary and descended from the tree. Now, to find Myself.
Using his unusually large nose, Tuesday smelt out Myself’s trail of jam. He had a three day lead over us, making our dawn target seem unlikely. We were contemplating the hiring of a dragster in order to catch him, when I found his toothpick. This startled me; Myself would never leave his toothpick behind... but wait a second, if that was a fake trail of jam, and, yes! That clumsy oaf was trying to ambush us. Us! Assassins! Idiot.
I sidled over to Tuesday and informally informed him of the information. He nodded. We would ambush the ambushers, like a snake disguised as a worm. But not until next issue.
Mustafa (and Tuesday)
EXPLAIN
THAT TO THE DENTIST
After receiving your mission, I ran straight to my private laboratory. I set up test tubes and a cutting board, then I rushed to a fellow slayer, Carly, and borrowed a rabid squirrel that she had captured. Wearing protective gloves, I held the squirrel by his tail and rushed him to my lab. Once there, I tortured him by making him watch bad music videos. Next I asked him to tell me about the nearest rabid squirrel base. He spilled. After that I asked where they hid their Uzis and Accessories. He refused to speak. Shortly afterwards, I cut off his head.
I ran his left fang under a high-powered microscope and discovered a small microchip! I ran tests in a science laboratory that I had broken into and concluded that the microchips controlled squirrels. I started to wonder if the microchips worked on humans too. Instead of trying it out I bought a rabid squirrel costume, and to add the final looks I used the squirrel’s fangs. Casually, I walked into the squirrel base I had found out about. I thought that I would be found out because of my size, but instead I noticed that all the rabid squirrels, chipmunks, pigeons and cocci were the same height as I was. I made friends with a squirrel named Brotaziminian and told her that it was my first time being a rabid squirrel. Brotaziminian boasted that she knew Wonky Branch when Wonky went by the name Polly. They had been close friends growing up. I discussed with Brotaziminian and discovered that the rabid squirrels were going to plant the microchips in nuts and when humans ate the nuts the squirrels would control them.
Brotaziminian found out that I was a rabid squirrel killer and tried to bite me. I pulled out a piece of paper from my boot and struck her with it. Then I ran from the base. I am currently on the run from the rabid squirrel mafia, created by Brotaziminian. I will report back soon but I currently cannot make contact with you because I am in hiding.
Rabid Squirrel Slayer Flophead
SUBLIMINAL (SEND
ME MONEY) MESSAGES
I have caught a new rabid squirrel to do tests on and I have found out that the microchips Riva Flophead found have stopped me accessing my Rabid Squirrel Killing Machine (by Acme) and to my How To Make Rabid Squirrel Soup Cookbook. Once removing the chip, though, I was able to get through. According to the squirrel I captured, its name is Wiracleo. After shielding my eyes, I showed it pictures of a certain "Mrs. Phelps" that my Secret Agent Abby Rats had brought to me. It told all.
These highly efficient microchips have been developed by the R.S. to stop us Slayers from using our electronics to find out about their secret plans. However, I have found a defect. By detaching the chip from the fang, not only does it allow access to Squirrel Killing devices, it also lets us reach the R.S. files. I have found and translated (with the help of my Secret Agent Abby Rats) this note from the "My Evil Documents" File on a R.S. computer:
To the almighty Fuzzball,
My Plan
I, Rabid Squirrel Wiracleo, have devised a plan to take the humans under our
power. I have designed a book called "A Squirrel Slayers Guide To Killing
Squirrels". In it, I have added subliminal messages. Every Slayer
will be sure to buy this! Then, they will be in our power. Soon, it will be
published and put on the shelves, but first I have to find a human to try
it out on. I shall search for one and notify you as soon as I get results as to
whether my book works or not.
Your eternal slave, almighty
Fuzzball,
Rabid Squirrel Wiracleo
I hope that was valuable information, Master Hunter. I shall search for more soon when I leave for my journey. I shall journey forth to someone's house that has a back yard infested with squirrels. I hope to capture a few and bring them to my lab for more studies.
Rabid Squirrel Slayer Cac
Just got the final proof that I require. The RSS must
immediately target a new alliance. The squirrels have just bought a 51%
share of Specsavers, and a 45% in HSE Dental.
This took some tracking down I can tell you, but the final proof was in a dummy
corporation laundering money from the share deals by a back purchase of Next stock
(this incidentally caused Next to push Railtrack out of the FTSE 100, which is
what finally tipped me off to their diabolical scheme).
Why are these stock purchases dangerous? I'll tell you.
Why are Rabid Squirrels so dangerous? Because they are rabid
evil rodents with desires of world domination.
Why haven't they succeeded? RSS of course, and why is that? Because we know our
enemy, we can thwart their evil machinations at every turn. But what if a rabid
squirrel looked like any other squirrel???
I believe that they have bought controlling shares in these corporations so
that they can control the manufacture of coloured contact lenses (so that their
eyes are no longer red with madness) and institute a major programme of
orthodonty in their numbers (filling down their teeth).
All squirrels within a 2 mile radius of a dentists or a Specsavers must now be
checked for contact lenses and whiter than white teeth. This can be done
with a simple UV Bulb, as the contact lenses glow under its rays showing the red
madness underneath.
Please pass on to all agents with immediate effect. The
future of the world is in our hands.
The time to start running is around about the "e" in "Hey
You!"
PLEASE,
NOT THE CRUMPETS
They came from every side. Clouds of rabid squirrels. It was
a massacre. We escaped, though, all three of the baker's dozen. We lost ten
fine slayers. Ten. I'm appalled. We trusted the lizard king for reinforcements,
but he bailed on us. I never trusted the lizards for one instant. Those dirty
low to the ground fellows with sharp teeth, and cold blood.
We've not managed to learn much about the rabids, or their technology, movement, because we've been nursing our wounds, and sending our diplomats to the lizard king, and to peta, but they always end up eating crumpets, and ketchup, and getting nothing done, besides three games of shuffleboard. I need some new people.
Angry Trapper Klein Baen
"Away foul wingèd things." Arose the cry of the masses as the beasts descended upon them. Out was brought the fearful blade, wielded by the hero there present (me of course) it brought down wave upon wave of the fiends. There could be only one! And I would be that one. I commanded my own wingèd things to take flight and see off the unclean intruders. They did so at once, but only moments later all plummeted out of the sky to their doom. Damn.
Again the fiends descended upon us, the masses huddling together taking comfort in the fact that there was safety in numbers, but to no avail - their huddles simply made for bigger targets and my kith and kin were being torn asunder everywhere my eye fell, their limbs and other corporal parts rained down like so many frogs! It was a scene of devastation that I have not seen since my days as a Field Agent and latterly as an Angry Trapper. I hoped that I would never see such atrocities again. I cut and I thrust, I thrust and I cut, I parried, I riposted, I slew them in countless numbers, and many of those I slew were, indeed, the enemy. My vorpal blade went snicker-snack, but no beamish boy was I, no frabjous day here, the fuming hordes raked us with their fire, their claws, and, of course, their rakes.
We were being cut to ribbons, I would soon have been the last man (or woman, we are an equal opportunities secret agency, after all), standing, and even I wouldn't have been able to fight them all off, they seemed to be coming from an unseen, never ending, ghastly source. As the grisly vista unfolded before me it seemed certain that I was doomed, but then in a flash of brilliance an idea came to me, it arrived with such a force that all around me were slain, so much for safety in numbers, and I had to sit down for a while until I was once more steady enough to battle on.
The plan was marvellous in its simplicity and amazing in its
genius, I executed the plan with a suave air and a witty quip, I was guileful
and crafty, swift and deadly, wily and astute and I emerged the victor, with a
ragged train of survivors in my wake and a grim depiction of demise left on the
battle ground. I had beaten them once again, and the world was safe as it ever
is, another plot overthrown and another picture of torment left as a reminder
to those left alive. I, of course, burnt the corpses, after skinning them for
coats, so they were not left as a meal for their so-called comrades. The
aftermath of the battle suitably reflected upon and the survivors properly
encamped I settles down to watch 'Have I Got News For You?' when I heard a
fluttering outside my tent. The wingèd things were back.
This true tale of survival and heroism was brought to you by Mr. Brooks
productions, the soundtrack can be bought on LP, MC, CD and MD at all reputable
record shops and retailers.
Incidentally, I was fighting a fearsome mixture of rabid pigeons, flying rabid
squirrels, Messerschmitts, and what appeared to be small clay disks, which flew
at immense speed towards their victims, and were almost unstoppable.
Mr. Brooks, BSc, BA, MSc, SSc, MPhil, PhD, Big Slayer, Etc.
TERRIBLE,
TERRIBLE ACCIDENT
Hewoow. Thith isth Aangree Chrapper Weesul reeepoortink in foor dooty. Ah resthently ran into uh gaang uv wabid thquirrelsth. They were veree thtrong. One moment pleath, ah mutht webandage mah casthts..........
OK, ah ahm bahck. Stho, theeesthe wabids wer veree, I mean I woouldnt wahnt to meeeet up wiff dem in a dahrk alley way. Or a light wun. Ah wus veruh luhkih they diduhnt bayte muh. Theey wus veree thtrong and now ah got aye sthpeeeeeche imperamunt. Thatsth all I wealwy have tooo shay now. I knoow I wealwy sthound stoopid and allw but ah caint hewp it. I got to go noow.
Angry Trapper Weasel
Hello, this is (yet again) another warning from the evil, cunning, mastermind, above reproach and surprisingly devastatingly gorgeous Princess Fliffy.
Apparently, you have not taken our warnings as a dire situation. And not in favour of you, King Fuzzball has just seen Pearl Harbour... *sigh*. I feel sorry for you. We are warning you to burn all documents containing anything about our heritage, present and future. We demand you shut down your agency, and kill all agents (or at least brainwash them to 40 hours of Richard Simmions). If you do not co-inside with our demands, devastation will weep from your cause...
I repeat "If you do not co-inside with our demands, devastation will weep from your cause!" You can not hold off the inevitable Master... you just can not... and the inevitable is us sir. You are going down.
Now I will you give you a fortnight to meet our demands... After that... you are at our mercy. Until then, have a good sleep. (ha. Ha.)
Sincerely the evil, cunning, mastermind, above reproach and surprisingly devastatingly gorgeous Princess Fliffy.
Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gire and gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the borogroves and the mome raths outgrabe. Deep within Slayer HQ Mr. Brooks slumbered. He dreamed of Jeanie. Deeper still, must the mind travel, and alight upon the recumbent form of the Master Hunter, also asleep. He dreamed of joy, fun and seasons in the sun. And further onward must we travel, here we find Double Oh’Leary, asleep too, a stirred, fitful sleep, still haunted by the memories of his experiences in battle, in the days before the mallet. All is still. But wait. What’s this? In the corner of the screen something moves. We draw closer – it appears to be a poorly disguised [1] carrot. It is a poorly disguised carrot. The Magic Carrot is poorly disguised as a parsnip (a bit of talcum powder here and there). It is also asleep. But hang on a minute, what is that it is holding in its little carrot paws? [2] As I looked in closer I caught sight of a grenade held between those seemingly innocent carrot paws. Its carrot eyes flick open and stare straight at me. A lock of blonde hair sticks out the top where its leaves should be. I duck as a pin comes flying towards me. The carrot looks at me confused before exploding [3] into a delightful display of green and pink sparks - it wasn't the Magic Carrot after all, but a firework. How pretty. The real Magic Carrot leaps forth and shouts "Ta-Da!!!".
It is now morning. Slayer HQ is waking up, 00'Leary is making the tea, and Mr. Brooks is complaining that he never makes it right. The Master Hunter is eating his Weetabix and reading the newspaper. There is a knock at the door and suddenly we leave the present tense and went into the past tense, the proper story telling medium. Agent Ellz had arrived with the report of the night’s activities. Apparently there had been quite a furore over at the [4] Frankenstein place. [5] The Master and Mr. Brooks decided that they ought to go and check it out. It had nothing to do with squirrels, but they considered it worth investigation nonetheless - they do, after all, work for the good of society. Upon arriving there you can imagine their astonishment at finding [10] Eponymous Biro, erstwhile benefactor of the lizard mob!
"Eponymous, what brings you here?" asked the Master Hunter coolly. Eponymous replied in an ancient lizard tongue incomprehensible to those who do not have lizard genes. Mr. Brooks attacked Eponymous Biro and took him home as evidence. [11] It was only upon arriving home that the agents remembered that Eponymous was an ally of theirs, and so it would be imprudent to damage him. Mr. Brooks apologised profusely for attacking him and 00'Leary made him a cup of tea. Eponymous then related the story of why he had been at the Frankenstein place. It was an exciting roller coaster of a tale, but alas, too long to be included here - the gist of it is that his bodyguard were kidnapped and he followed them to the spot at which he was found. The Master and Mr. Brooks pondered this...why would Fuzzball want to kidnap several large lizards? After many long minutes of careful and difficult thought, the RSS leaders reached a conclusion – [12] King Fuzzball the Almighty had developed a new form of curry: lizard tikka muncha. Obviously.
Eponymous was disturbed at this news. He liked his lizards, and the fact that
they had been eaten in roughly half of the RSS adventures was upsetting him. He
turned to the Master Hunter and said [13]
"There is also this Neo-Zophar who is helping the squirrels fight by
having his best men mate with squirrels, and cause the most grotesque thing you
ever have seen." Then the Master Hunter said [14] "How did you
know that Eponymous?" to which Eponymous replied [15] "Aargle" and keeled over and died.
00'Leary and Ellz set about making him better, but it was an exercise that was to take a while, so in the meantime Mr. Brooks went to investigate this allegation of Eponymous Biro’s and the Master Hunter put his considerable brain power to the task of bringing Mr. Biro back to life. [16] Just then, Special Agent Ghaleon walked in.
"What are you people talking about? Everything that silly reptile man said is true." To that, the Master Hunter said [17] "Which is precisely why we want to bring him back to life, come gentlemen - to the laboratory".
Mr. Brooks meanwhile was off fighting evil in another area of the East
Midlands. He had gone to the last place that he had been aware of Rabid
activity - the Frankenstein place, he was snooping around, looking for clues,
and trying to look like a retired policeman turned private investigator, when
who should arrive on the scene but [18] Agent Beard!!! (his full title).
He used his dry wit to shrivel the squirrels to a [19] fig! [20]
He'd never been a big fan of figs, so Mr. Brooks slapped Agent Beard, and Agent
Beard said, "Ow." [21]
"Stop whinging," said Mr. Brooks, who then (in a
moment of incaution) ate the figs. This was a silly thing to do, and almost
immediately he felt pains in his stomachal area. [22]
"Everyone knows that squirrels that have been shrivelled into figs are
deadly to the human nervous system," said Agent Beard. "Luckily I have
the antidote. A simple mixture of [23] cheese and eyelashes from the
bionic man. As soon as I can get hold of these ingredients all will be
well." Immediately 00'Leary, the Master Hunter and all the other agents in
Slayer HQ disappeared to find such things and as soon as they were left alone
Beard hit Mr. Brooks with a stick and then started to peel off his own face,
Beard wasn't really Beard but a disguised [24]
lizard bodyguard.
"Ta-da" quoth the bodyguard. "I have
cunningly escaped from the evil clutches of King Fuzzball and his evil minions,
who are even now trying to curry favour with him by cooking my erstwhile
brethren. I disguised myself as Agent Beard and the squirrels shrivelled in
anticipation of my witty ripostes."
"Well," said Mr. Brooks, having dealt the lizard a swift blow to the
head for the curry joke, "This is a conundrum - [25] we shall have to wait upon Richard Whitely to deal out a
terrible pun before we can move on to the numbers round. Incidentally the
answer is Diapedesis. In addition to this I feel that we should listen to the
tale this escapee has to offer and then heed his undoubtedly wise words and act
accordingly," Mr. Brooks then took a deep breath and continued. "Also
I believe that if we pickle [26]
00'Leary we can sell him next Christmas as a seasonal snack". The Master
Hunter responded by dealing Mr. Brooks a sharp slap and then not including him
in the next game of Tjord Funderbird. Shortly afterwards the RSS agents could
be seen heading out across the veldt in search of the truth. On the basis of
the bodyguard's story they believed that it could be located at [27] Shady Lane [28] the hot spot for squirrel
activity in these parts. The RSS agents could have kicked themselves, if only their
legs were dislocated, it was so obvious, why hadn't they thought of that? At
once they set off towards this mystical place and within the week they had
arrived.
The Master Hunter looked around and noticed something.
"Why," he said, "I do declare, that's [29] the entire back catalogue of KP food products. For what
reason, pray, would these delicatessen be present?"
00'Leary had the answer. "It's obvious, sir. The rabid squirrels are
cunningly attempting to malnourish us until we are too heavy to move." He
looked pleased with himself.
"00'Leary, malnourished is a lack of food. Have you started reading the
dictionary like I suggested?"
00'Leary hadn't. The Master Hunter formulated his own plan. "The reason
for the location of these snacks in the vicinity of this rabid squirrel base is
surely [30] a ruse. The
foodstuffs must be poisoned, and we are expected to eat them and die."
"Well" said Myself "We'd best get started then, there's rather a
lot to get through"
"Where's Mr. Brooks?"
"Dunno, I've not seen him"
"Me neither"
And with that the remaining Slayers set off back home to formulate a new plan. However they never got home because [31] their HQ was blown up. Ghaleon strolled out of the burning building, not even caring that his hair was on fire. He told them to follow him to his secret garden. They agreed, and he showed them around the ancient ruins, and introduced the agents to the faeries. He told them even Zophar could destroy this place, let alone some stupid squirrels. Just then, the alarm went off. He cast Barrier on the agents, and then used Plasma Rain to kill all attacking Assassin squirrels at once.
"That was the easiest battle I have ever fought. Are
you sure rabid squirrels are a threat to the world? They are nothing compared
to me, the Dragonmaster." Then he told them to move out. "This will
be a cakewalk," he said. Just then, Ghaleon's [32] head fell off and he died and his name was never spoken
again, the same thing, inexplicably, happened to Zophar. Astonishing isn't it?
Then everyone realised that the squirrels hadn't been killed at all, but the
Plasma Rain was in fact, just ordinary rain and everyone was okay. The Slayers
went and built a new HQ on the site of the old one and it was as if nothing had
ever happened. They still needed a plan though... [33]
Acorn died yesterday, of course. Fuzzball is going to mourn her death at Midwest Squirrel HQ.
"The FBI has a great assassination plan, and the
Director wants you people to lead it with me," said Ghaleon, after he put
his head back on. "Zophar is still alive, by the way. And Plasma Rain did
not work well on the squirrels because they are resistant to Fire attack magic.
Atomic Burn is much more effective. Watch this," he said, and killed
twenty-two squirrels that were sneaking up behind him. "Zophar," he
said, "is going to mate with Fuzzball and make weird monsters that are
very strong, if we don't kill him tomorrow at the funeral. Here is some
equipment we need," he said, and opened up the trunk of his Ryder truck.
It was filled to the brim with weapons, magic gloves, healing items, crystals,
magical beasts that they can use for hunting, and Holy Power that will destroy
all evil with an effect similar to an atomic bomb, only it affects the whole
universe. "No one has ever used it before," Ghaleon said. "It
may destroy all creatures, or only squirrels. No one knows for sure." [34]
So the following day they took it to a large field to test it on some squirrels they'd captured. Unfortunately it destroyed the whole universe, but after putting the universe back together again and making a few adjustments to the potency of it they found that the gubbins they had acquired worked just fine, and killed only squirrels. The next day it was funeral time, and along went a contingent of agents accompanied by the highly dubious Ghaleon, and unleashed the furies within their power. All the squirrels perished save only their leaders; Fuzzball, Sly and the others all survived, with the added unpleasant side effect that it brought Acorn back to life as well. All was not going according to plan, but on the positive side, they had killed several squirrels, even if they hadn't directly affected King Fuzzball.
The Slayers again returned to base (they seemed to be doing
an awful lot of returning to base these days) to report what had happened to
the Master Hunter. The Master Hunter was not best pleased as he hadn't
authorised the use of these experimental weapons and he told the agents who had
done it that they would have to [35]
"not talk to any more strangers. Even if they offer you sweets." [36]
The story continues: http://members.sitegadgets.com/Mr.Brooks/story.html
??? WHAT
HAPPENS NEXT ???
There was no escape for the poor Magic Carrot. The vegetable anaesthetic rendered it inanimate before it even reached the carefully positioned nets. The rabids had got themselves a Magic Carrot.
Taking the Magic Carrot home, the rabid squirrels set about preparing a stew. They wanted to eat the Magic Carrot, and gain its strength – a cunning plan indeed. But no sooner had the Magic Carrot felt the warm, nourishing mixture of which it was a part, it was revived. And not willing to be eaten.
Dashing frantically, the Magic Carrot bowled over the skittles
squirrels and leapt to its freedom.
ACTUALLY, FIGS
ARE A PERSONAL FAVOURITE
(c) 2001 Rabid
Publications