Summer 2002 - Issue 50
Taken from ‘The Memoirs of a Master Hunter”
“Snarl!” cried Doctor Grog as he fell from his witchtower onto a large and menacing arm. Army! Of invading invaders, mostly composed of rabid squirrels, although there was the odd elephant seal (or was that just his medication? (an army composed of rabid squirrels and medication? (what? (I think I’ll start again)))).
“Snarl!” cried Doctor Grog as he leapt down from on high, simultaneously reaching for his epee, phoning for backup and brewing a cup of tea. He was out numbered by twenty-three to some other numbers, but that did not ail him. Which was a shame as he quite fancied a pint of bitter. Enough.
“Hmm,” though the father of physiology as he pondered which jugular would be best to attack. He slashed here, sloshed there, then bound into battle. Several rabid squirrels fell, and he attacked the rest. But as was already determined, he was outnumbered by many more than he, and so soon he was overwhelmed like a certain area of the North Sea (overwhelked – get it? (Mr. Brooks, would you care to remind me what my limit on bad jokes was – I have surely exceeded it, but I would like to know the extent of my crimes)).
Two years later:
“Doctor Grog is missing.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It has been two years. I think he’s right.”
“Then we should inform the Master Hunter immediately!”
“I already know.”
“I know you already know, but what about the Master Hunter?”
“I am he! For crying out loud, will somebody turn the light on?”
Click.
“That’s better,” said the Master. “Now, to action.”
“Who said that?” asked Special Agent 00’Leary.
“00’Leary, the light is on now, you have no excuse,” said Mr. Brooks.
“Well if somebody would help my get this duct tape off my eyes then maybe I would be able to see a little better.”
“Why do you have duct tape on your eyes?”
“It’s a long story.“
“I’ll put the kettle on.”
The tape was removed.
“Aah, that’s it. I can see a little better. Get him out of my casino, he’s far too young.”
Mr. Brooks rolled his eyes. The Master Hunter rolled a six and therefore won both eyes.
“Who said that?”
Then immediately gave the eyes back lest any more bad jokes recurred.
“This is one of the worst stories you have ever written,” stated 00’Leary.
“This is a story?” raised the brow of Mr. Brooks. The pair both sniggered. The Master responded by pouring boiling oil on them. There erupted a chorus of “Aaargh! My eyes!” The Master ended the paragraph quickly.
The trio began the search for the missing Doctor Immediately. Then realised they should be searching for Doctor Grog and so restarted. 00’Leary sprinted into the lead, but the Master rugby tackled him while Mr. Brooks lolloped on to take the stage win.
“That’s no good,” pointed out the Master. “I asked for a stage coach, how are we supposed to travel in a win? Now, get me a coach.”
“Here I am!” bellowed Agent Beard. “Climb aboard!”
Each agent duly climbed a board, then got down and stood on Beard’s shoulders as he ran to the Rabid Squirrel’s Prison. They arrived concurrently.
“Take us to the Rabid Squirrel’s Prison!” yelled the Master Hunter.
“Done.”
“Damn you’re quick. Have a promotion. You are now a royal carriage.”
“Cabbage, sir?” asked 00’Leary.
“Not now. This is an important mission. We have more important things to concentrate on. Each Agent is invaluable and essential. Make me a cup of tea.”
“Sir.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
“I wasn’t. I couldn’t.”
“You will, my friend. You will.”
“What have our spies told you, Mr. Brooks?”
“They are not paid well enough, or well... anything for that matter, so are quitting.”
“Pay them immediately!”
“That was two years ago sir.”
“Oh. Well then, if we have no inside information with which to surprise the enemy then you had better call for backup.”
“Er... there is no backup sir.”
“What?”
“There are only the five of us left in the once mighty RSS.”
“What about old Toddy, the caretaker?”
“He got attacked by a duster, and lost both legs. Never did find them, poor chap.”
“How about that sneaky Agent Myself?” the Master Hunter blubbered.
“He turned to the Dark Side, Master.”
“What about the Magic Carrot?” he sobbed.
“Fell into a casserole.”
“And the rest of the Agents?” he whimpered, wiping a tear from his eye.
“You dismissed them when the rabids declined in number, sir.”
The Master Hunter stiffened his resolve, and his drink. “Oh yes, that incident with the near extinction of Sciurus Rabidus. Did the rabids ever recover their number?”
“I’m afraid not. We believe some ex-Agents to have gone against a direct order and continued to slaughter the lambs like squirrels. Now there are only an estimated twenty rabids left.”
“What about Fuzzball and Co.?”
“Gone, but not forgotten.”
“So who leads these estimated twenty rabids?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Nobody, brother of Myself?”
“Yes, and he won’t tell us.”
“We may be unprepared, unknowledgeable, and unother things, but we are not without pride. Let us finish the job we started back in the Summer of ’98. Jimmy may have quit, and Joey may have gotten married, but we are still the Rabid Squirrel Slayers, dagnammit, and we will not go out without a fight. We will rescue Doctor Grog, and we will wipe out the last of the rabid squirrels. Or die trying. What do you say, lads?”
“The first option?”
“Good call. You may take my life, but I’ll be back for breakfast. Smoke me a kipper, you’ll never take my freedom. Etcetera.”
“Rowdy cheer!” shouted his men.
“To battle!” screamed a passing gnu, intent on joining in the fun.
And so they did.
29th July 2002
The Last Stand.
The four brave knights charged up to the prison, then scrambled over the prison walls, then fell down the prison walls (but the other side), then ran to Doctor Grog’s cell, then freed him, then had a rest while a full stop was added to then end of this active sentence.
“Jolly good show, chaps. A bally rescue, eh? I would never have thought of that,” smiled Doctor Grog.
“We brought you some tea,” said 00’Leary. “I’m afraid it has gone rather purple and tepid since I put it in this thermos flask, but better than nothing I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“Cheers, most appreciated.”
Agent Beard was frowning. “Why are there no rabid squirrels here?” he pondered to the world.
“Because, old friend, you have fallen into a trap! Indeed! Who’s the idiot now? Mwahahahaaaaa!” said a mystery voice. From nowhere, a horde of an estimated twenty rabid squirrels appeared and metaphorically barred off their exit.
The Master Hunter was shaken, but not stirred. “Who are you, mystery voice? Come forth, that we may set eyes upon our enemy.”
“Do you not recognise me? I was once a dear friend of yours.”
“Agent Myself? Could it be?”
Agent Myself walked into the light, said “Ow!”, and then walked over to his captors. “It is I. See how far I have progressed? I was once a measly Special Agent like yourself,” he pointed to 00’Leary, “but now I am the Rabid Squirrel King! The Dark Side is far more powerful. Join us, perchance?”
“Never!”
“Then you shall die.”
“Never!”
“Than you shall remain a prisoner for eternity.”
“Never!”
“Then you shall... enough. Kill them!” King Myself leapt into battle, followed by an estimated twenty rabid squirrels, followed by the Master Hunter, Mr. Brooks, 00’Leary, Doctor Grog, Beard and a passing gnu.
It was a battle to end all battles.
Both sides won.
Both sides lost.
There are no more rabid squirrels.
There are no more Rabid Squirrel Slayers.
“Quack,” said the Duck, as he strolled across the deserted battlefield. “Quacky quack.” It smiled, such a magnificent beam, which revealed its jagged teeth. And one had to agree, for it certainly had a point.
“Quacky quack” indeed.
The events chronicled below are by no means in chronological order.
THE END by the Master Hunter
EVIL MYSELF: EPISODE 3 by Mr. Brooks
EVIL MYSELF: EPISODE 4 by Mr. Brooks
EVIL MYSELF: EPISODE 5 by Mr. Brooks
SOMETIMES I SEE by RRSK
FEET I GAVE by Agent Shinigami
GIANT ALLIANCE by Prince Mousepad
CHESS by Mr. Brooks
ONE TEASPOON by Nick Laboy
THE USES OF A YO-YO by Agent Ben
TRUE DEDICATION by Giles
5 by Mr. Brooks
FERRETS? by Agent Jon Cox
HEINOUS DEVIATION by Mr. Brooks
IT ALL BOILS by Special Agent Mid-Turquoise
HEARTILY ENDORSED BY THE RSS by Darth Defenestrus
SMIDGENS OF JUICE by Various
THE PENGUIN AND THE ID by Agent Q6.3
SPRAYS JEEZ by Alex
THE RETURN by Mr. Brooks
THE BEGINNING by the Master Hunter
EVIL MYSELF EPISODE 3
The sorry continues – Mr. Brooks, the once valiant vice-master of the RSS, sat gibbering on his chair in the bunker of the RSS HQ. The Master Hunter and his monkey were talking in hushed voices and suspicious hats on the other side of the room, snatches of their conversation can be heard – “…find him or…” “…what? Pink?…” “…mmm, jam…” – after what seemed like an age the two comrades broke off their whispered conference and came over to Mr. B. “What are we to do with you?” spake TMH, and 00’Leary backed him up with tea. “Tell us more of your experience of Myself” Mr. Brooks shuddered at the mention of this fiendish name, but he began to tell, once more – he told of wild eyes and frightening hair, stewed tea and purple rain. After several days he had finished, and he lay exhausted on the floor of RSS HQ. TMH and 00’Leary exchanged glances, words and phone numbers, before arranging Mr. Brooks into the shape of an attractive rug and setting off into the night, the Master Hunter’s face set with grim determination, 00’Leary’s set with a face pack to keep his skin pretty. They were heading for Dr. Ellz’s laboratory, to see the evidence of Myself’s new madness for themselves, and to take photos for an illicit magazine. They arrived in an ice-cream van some hours later; having stopped off in Huddersfield to buy socks, and dismounted elegantly. They knocked upon the door of the lab. and entered, without waiting for anyone to answer the door. The scene that met their eyes was terrible – in fact it was even worse – it was Ellz! “Welcome marthterth” he slurred, “To wot do I owe thith pleathure?” 00’Leary smote him sharply on the head and Ellz tried again “Welcome sirs, to what do I owe this pleasure? Sorry – got stuck in sinister servant mode there for a minute” the Master Hunter told Ellz not to fret, his momentary blunder had been forgotten already – the Master was not known for his long memory. 00’Leary began questioning Ellz with misleading enquiries, whilst the Master busied himself with looking around the lab. Twelve minutes later there went up a cry from the Master – “Aha!” quoth he, “A clue!”
Has the Master Hunter discovered the secret to Myself’s madness? Will he discover his location and brutally destroy him? Will I eventually get bored of this long running serial story? Probably! Find out next time in the exciting adventures of Mr. B, TMH and 00’L, oh yes and SAM!
Mr. Brooks
EVIL MYSELF EPISODE 4
It was a cold evening, as it so often is at the beginning of these tales, and the winds could be heard outside, whistling across the Kenneth Moore’s as they are wont to do of a wintertime, and the members of the RSS were sitting in their HQ (recently repaired, after an unfortunate exploding incident) playing Tjord Funderbird. The Junior Minister for Truth and Beauty had just thwarted the Master Hunter’s Prolonged Beefeater Jumpsuit with a cunningly forged Dow Jones Sandwich formation, which Mr. Brooks parried, making a small noise like a rabbit and using an Avionic Twist when, as so often happens on these occasions, open sprang the door and entered the insignificant agent Yeti.
“Sirs, I bring grave news” quoth he. The players of the noble game paused in their congratulations of Mr. Brooks on his impressive rabbit noise to enquire after this news from Yeti. It transpired that there had been a great battle, led by a less than great leader, and the RSS had incurred massive losses – a 7:0 loss to the rabid alliance. King Fuzzball had captured the leader of this merry band of renegade RSS agents and was presently torturing him most terribly. The allies of the gallant, if somewhat foolish, RSS had been scattered and their leaders also either killed or captured. The lizards had been lacerated, the bats beleaguered and the rats rousted, and as for the chipmunks – it didn’t bear thinking about. The Master Hunter and his subordinates wondered how this could have happened and Yeti told them that the army had been led by an incompetent, a person who seemed to want the RSS to be decimated, a person who walked up to King Fuzzball in the depths of combat and asked him to take himself captive. Mr. Brooks enquired after this character’s identity
It was Myself.
Special agent, spy and assassin for the RSS, one time close associate of Mr. Brooks and friend to the Master Hunter himself. Now gone to the bad. And that was not the worst of it. He had had a second in command – grimy goblin of garage, the bearded, bobble-hat bedecked Craig David! Now the RSS leaders had to decide what to do to remedy this latest and terrible development. They must capture and destroy Craig David. But they were assassinless and Mr. Brooks was still unfit for combat after his previous ordeal with Agent Myself. How were they to overcome such obstacles?
The saga of Myself’s treachery continues…
Mr. Brooks
EVIL MYSELF EPISODE 5
Special Agent Myself was caught. He lay trussed up like a turkey at Christmas awaiting his judgement and punishment, which were to be administered by the Master Hunter. Mr. Brooks was nowhere to be seen, the scene being one that seemed all too painful for him. 00’Leary made the tea. The Master Hunter entered the room from the small cupboard in which he had been thinking of a punishment suitable for a villain of Myself’s stature. He wore a grave expression underneath his Spiderman mask. Myself was to be taken out and executed. It was the only way. As the Master Hunter delivered this grim news Myself let out a squeak and a whimper, he is, he claims, too young to die. “Rubbish” quipped the Master in reply, “you are just the right age – look at the state of your hair. You will be kilt, but you may choose your method of death from this box” and with that the Master Hunter handed Myself a small tin with two pieces of paper in it. Myself looked at the words on the paper and then turned to TMH, “So the choice is burning, or dismemberment?” TMH gave him a nod, a rod, and a prod and Myself looked thoughtful, “what if I choose neither?” TMH had not expected this and was momentarily taken aback “Then we won’t be able to execute you,” he eventually quoth. Myself then found himself in something of a dilemma; neither of the options open to him seemed pleasant but if he didn’t pick one then they would not be able to kill him. A tricky predicament. After some time, some tea and some toast Myself decided he would be burned, but only if Mr. Brooks lit the flame. The Vice-Master was called forth and handed a box of matches. After a few moments involving matches getting blown out in the wind, Mr. B. finally managed to set light to the hair of Myself, and grimaced as his former partner in slaying was burnt to a cinder.
So ended Special Agent Myself, and all his little devils.
Mr. Brooks
I was walking down the street and something tried to attack me. It was a squirrel, a giant squirrel, seven feet high. I see them everyday, eating smaller squirrels that have wings and some with fangs. And sometimes I see squirrels with dynamite on them slam into the giant ones, and the giant squirrel eats it, and then go boom. I saw this one doctor squirrel thing there and there was a sign:
____________________________________
| Attention all rabid squirrels did you |
| ever want to be a really tough squirrel |
| that wants to kill other rabid squirrel- |
| s? ThenjoinGSRTKSTKORSAAOCSARAHAEOSWISTA |
| (Giant Squirrel Rebellion That Kill |
| Other Rabid Squirrels And Also Other |
| Creatures Such As Rabbits And Humans |
| And Even Other Squirrels Wait I Said |
| That Already) Join now! You wont regret |
| it! Sign created by Dr. Giant Rabid |
| Squirrel Creator Squirrel Lady.... JOIN! |
|___________________________________|
Who do you think has made those squirrels like that? Is that a new race of Rabid Squirrels? Why is their organization name so long? When are my noodles going to be ready? Hurry up microwave! What should I do if I see them again?
RRSK (Random Rabid Squirrel
Killer)
Hello, this is Agent Shinigami. I am turning in my report for the Mission Geneticising. I have tested countless experiments on a rather healthy and well-trained (but mentally weak) friend of mine. He is not part of the RSS, so I have told him that I was making him a chocolate sandwich. As I told you, he is mentally weak, so he is easy to convince and control, the perfect subject for the ultimate rabid squirrel-destroying monster. I have mixed various chemicals into his bloodstream. The most of the experiments with the chemicals turned him red or blue, but one experiment turned him into a girl, which I managed to reverse after I took some "tests". Erm, well after all those experiments I found the one chemical that will make him into the ultimate rabid squirrel-destroying monster. I classified the chemical as the S-Virus, which is lethal to squirrels but buffs up and mutates humans into Super Beings. I injected the S-Virus into my test subject. A gruesome process ensued. His skin became scaly and his eyes large and blue. He sprouted spikes on his shoulders and claws on his fingers and feet. His teeth became fangs and this hair up to his shoulders. He roared as loud as could, obviously saying "WHERE IS MY CHOCOLATE SANDWICH!!!!??" I gave him a chocolate sandwich, took him to a rabid squirrel training camp, and let him have his fun. In a matter of seconds, all the squirrels were either ripped to ribbons or squashed and stuck onto the bottom of his feet. I gave him another chocolate sandwich, and took him back to the lab. I checked his status and here is what appeared:
> STRENGTH: 5000000000000000000000000000000000
> STAMINA: Unable to be beaten
> SPEED: 1000000 miles per second
> SIGHT: Able to see 1000000000000 miles in any direction.
OVERALL RATING: THE ULTIMATE RABID SQUIRREL-DESTROYING MONSTER!!!
I was overjoyed by the results. I will have him sent to RSS Headquarters along with a vat of the S-Virus and the mixture of chemicals I used to make the S-Virus. To make a long story short, this mission was a complete success. I hope this report and my ultimate rabid squirrel-destroying monster will be useful against the destruction of the rabid squirrels.
This ends my report.
Agent Shinigami
Dear Master Hunter, PLEASE HELP!!! Once again, the Giant Squirrels attacked me. But hundreds of Rabid Squirrels came to help me. Among them was King Fuzzball's son, Prince Frogsnotball. They were all eaten, and King Fuzzball and his minions came and killed the Giant Squirrel Leader in Command, Sir Returner. He then said “Hey, mister. Rabid Squirrels are not the enemy. Giant Squirrels are. They have also joined with all of my allies that are the ones on your enemy list and all the neutral ones on your list. Please, we MUST join forces. Please.” Well I never saw King Fuzzball say PLEASE before, so I said yes. But they tricked me. They have all of our allies, all of their allies, and all of the neutrals. They all want to take out the human race. I am trapped in a cave with millions of enemies everywhere! Please, send all of the Agents to help. This can be our only chance. Make this a mission. And if I die before this message reaches you, let my death be in vain. The guards are going to check what I'm doing so I will stop writing. Over and out.
Signed, Prince Mousepad
(Incidentally, I checked this report, and it was, thankfully, not entirely true – there were enemies, but not in such numbers, our allies are still with us, and as far as I know, the neutrals are still neutral. King Fuzzball has no son Frogsnotball; of this I am certain – Mr. Brooks)
CHESS
It was, uncharacteristically, early afternoon on a day that had no noticeable weather phenomena at all. In Slayer HQ 00’Leary, TMH and Mr. Brooks were playing chess. TMH had just taken 00’Leary’s Queen with his Little Horse and Mr. Brooks was smirking quietly as he believed them both to have fallen into his trap. Suddenly the door didn’t burst open, and nobody hurled themselves into the room in a state of unkempt distress. The Master Hunter glanced up as this failed to happen, and in his moment of distraction 00’Leary sought to move one of TMH’s Little Castles out of place, so he could check his mate more easily, but the Master has eyes everywhere and threw one of them at 00’Leary, having anticipated his dastardliness. Mr. Brooks continued his smirk. “Don’t think I can’t see your little trap Brooks” spake the Master, “For I can.” Brooks cursed inwardly as he had thought he couldn’t see his little trap. TMH gleefully slurped his tea – his bluff had worked, and surely Mr. Brooks would fold soon, he was thus engaged in contemplation when he was rudely jerked back to reality by a stab at his face. “Dammit Leary, I’ve told you before, it’s ‘Poker Faced’, not ‘Poke A Face’” he exclaimed with anger flashing in his nostrils. “Thorry Marthter” slavered the Anglo-Irish beast, “I thought I had it right that time” this display of stupidity was but a mask, however, for 00’Leary’s dealing a Bishop from the bottom of the deck while the Master Hunter was otherwise occupied. Mr. Brooks had seen, but was still smarting from the alleged discovery of his cunning trap and looked the Master Hunter squarely in the eye as he shuffled his pawns – the chair was cushionless – and then moved his Queen nor-nor-west on an attack of TMH’s pieces. The Master was struck, once, twice, three times by Mr. Brooks as he moved his little plastic monarch, but he was not so easily ruffled and simply blinked and wiped the blood from his brow, before throwing an eye at his opponent. He then launched an attack of his own, slaughtering a reckless Prawn, which had strayed too far from the protection of the Night, sorry, Knight with a violent Cleric of Doom. Sure enough, at this move, Brooks folded his King into an attractive hat and stormed off to get more tea. TMH’s assumption had been well founded, how well he knew his hotheaded deputy. He allowed himself a grin, a gin and a biscuit. 00’Leary didn’t notice this decadence exhibited by his chum, as he was too busy trying to get out of the corner he was now trapped in, left exposed by M B’s departure. With the white player gone, there was only black and red remaining, and thus the game altered subtly to take this into account and 00’Leary was momentarily taken aback. By the time Mr. B. returned 00’Leary had made a move for which he would later kick himself when he realised that he had crucified himself…there, he kicked himself. Mr. Brooks laughed a cruel laugh and collected another eye for his nastiness, with the game all but over the gentlemen began to seek new entertainment, and hit upon the idea of watching television. After twenty-three minutes of this they hit upon the idea of turning it on. There was nothing worth watching so they turned it off again and sat in silence pulling faces at each other, and occasionally pulling each other’s faces. Soon it was teatime and they called upon Agent Beard to make some thing on which to sup. After much bashing, thrashing and crashing in the kitchen the hirsute one produced several platters of jam, and all were satisfied. They turned then towards more pressing matters – such, for example, as the matter of…but at that moment open burst the door, in staggered an agent, his hair a-flying and limbs akimbo. The associates there gathered looked at one another with happy mien – all was once again as it should be…
Mr. Brooks
I have successfully mutated a volunteer into a rabid squirrel, but it is no use. I have done this by taking an acorn and combining it with one teaspoon of squirrel blood (bought at uncles shop) and exposing it to radiation (or the microwave). The subject’s eyes turn red, and give off a green glow. By studying my subject I have found no side affects accept for one.:( The green glow makes the squirrels go insane, they took control of my subject but lucky for me I had a surprise for them. Lets just say there are five rabid squirrels less that we don’t have to kill. I have lost my hand in this battle but have managed to grow it back (using chemicals and miracle grow).
P.S. thanks for the weapons they work great
Nick Laboy
Today, my friends, I have made a great discovery! While tinkering with old playthings in my lab, I encountered an ordinary yoyo. I tinkered with the yoyo for an hour, but nothing seemed to work. I set it aside for a minute, and reached for my super glue to try and adhere it to something else. I spilled the glue onto my hand and when I pulled my hand back I got the string of the yoyo stuck to my hand! I then realized that it could be swung around to hit enemies with amazing force. So if in need, use the yoyo! You don't need to glue it, just tie it around you wrist, and you have a great rabid squirrel killer.
Agent Ben
I have just become a fully-fledged member of the RSS and can I say what an honour it is for me!!! I live in a bin and for me to break into a school, commit five accounts of GBH and assault on various security guards and personnel, I logged onto the net and found your shrine to the eradication of Rabid Squirrels! I mean talk about luck! I will endeavour to hunt out and destroy all rabid squirrel agents in my area and will report back to you ASAP! ALL HAIL THE RSS!!!
Giles
5
It was early June, the drizzle shone brightly in the dull gleam of the distant sun, and all was well. The Master Hunter had been away, but was due to return at any moment, and – presumably – would re-instate the RSS to full working order on his return. Mr. Brooks and 00’Leary stood anxiously on the plains of the East Midlands awaiting his arrival by pigeon, 00’Leary hopping from one foot to the other, Mr. Brooks stood in an irritable and irritated fashion, trying to shake 00’Leary off his feet, Agent Beard lurked off to one side, trying to look brooding and poetic, and the three discussed recent events. In the Master’s absence Mr. Brooks had run the RSS with an iron fist, but it hadn’t really paid attention, 00’Leary had cavorted and jested until his fellows snapped and beat him into silence with his balloon on a stick, and Agent Beard had, as usual, skulked in the background doing very little and endeavouring to look like a harrowed and troubled genius whose only solace was to be found in the opium dens of seedy, late 18th century London. No-one paid this any attention either. All of a sudden there came a cry from 00’Leary – Beard, at this, shouted “Quiet sir, can’t you see I’m dying? Bring me beer, man, my consumption grows ever greater as Coleridge’s drugs are wearing off” the reason for 00’Leary’s little yelp was that he had spotted something in the skies to the West and Mr. Brooks had clouted him for daring to say so. The gathered trio, barely an ensemble as they were, peered up into the sky at the approaching form, hoping it to be their gallant leader, returned from his travels. The apparition grew ever closer and took on the shape of a being known best to us as TMH. The companions rejoiced – salvation had arrived, no more playing Mr. Brooks’ inane and nonsensical games he thought to be so very clever, no more suffering 00’Leary’s ridiculous ramblings without sufficient wit to subdue him, and no more sitting lonely on the moors, trying to be romantic for Beard – The Master would stop all this. The Master Hunter landed, thanked and paid his pigeon and drew near his staunch friends “Ho there, stout yeomen!” quoth he “How goes it upon this fine morrow?” The agents couldn’t quite put their collective finger on it, but there was something subtly changed in their friend, he held himself differently, moved differently, and (after a quick sniff) definitely smelled differently. The Master Hunter gave the welcoming party, such as it was, a quick slap for such poor grammar in the preceding sentence and proceeded to address his troops “Troops” he began, (00’Leary looked about him in mock puzzlement) “I am returned” and with that he stuck a little label on them, bearing their address – that was different too, he would never have taken part in such a cheap joke before. His speech finished, the Master bade them hence to an alehouse, and lo, there they hied. Once ensconced in a large armchair, a straw hat, a canoe and a horseshoe respectively the agents began to gabble. They gabbled long into the night, until at 9:30 they were ejected for unlawful gabbling, and began to wend their separate ways home, until 00’Leary cried out into the night “Let’s go back to my house for Port and a video!!!” the other three followed his distressed cry and found him sitting on the street, leaning against the wall “huzzah” he squawked weakly and commenced leading the merry way to his abode. All of a gradual they were set upon by a fiend of terrible aspect, its teeth white like the night, its eyes black like blood, its ears sharp like justice and its breath smelly like tuna fish. 00’Leary hauled himself out of his ale-steeped bleariness and launched himself upon the intruder into their four way solitude – fouritude he mentally categorised it as – 00’Leary fought like a thing without fear, pain or cake, he fought as if for his nation, his love and his trousers and after 30 or 40 ferocious seconds he relaxed – the beast was dead. There was silence as the congregation racked their brains for an appropriately witty line to deliver, preferably dryly and with élan, and, unexpectedly, Mr. Brooks got there first, and with the air of one who has oft practised such a line before a mirror articulated the phrase “Well who died and made you Buffy the vampire slayer?” much chuckling ensued and they went off to their port. All was well.
Mr. Brooks
New Ferret Leader Makes Himself Known: Recently my pet and loyal friend ferret, Ralph, has decided to make himself known as the ferret leader. He is a strong supporter of the RSS and detests all rabid squirrels for what they have done to his family. All other ferrets agree that a new leader must be appointed (except for the few rabid ones). Surely this is good news for the RSS, for we shall finally be able to make the ferrets our allies, turning the tables against the evil rabid squirrels.
Agent Jon Cox
Hello. What I am about to tell you is shocking and real...there is a new group of squirrels. It's a very real conspiracy. I am serious. The American Government was originally supposed to deal with it. They finally gave up months later. It leaked out, somehow, and it came onto me. I decided to investigate. After researching, I made an agency to fight these squirrels. These bad squirrels are known as THE EVIL SQUIRRELS. I have twenty-seven agents and very good evil-squirrel-killing-technology. If you would like more info on this scary subject just e-mail me. For now, I go by Little Rosie. I know what you’re thinking, kinda cheesy. But that is not the point. If you would like to help me, or know more, or put it on your website respond back to me! I also have eyewitness stories for proof and classified pictures. Do not fake yourself into saying this isn't real. At first it wasn't too serious. Now they have declared war. Thank you for listening.
I became aware of the squirrel threat a few years ago when I went to school down in Athens, OH. I found it unusual the number of squirrels down here and upon closer investigation I discovered that they are evil and are planning world domination. Their secret base under the city is guarded heavily and I am trying to rally a group to infiltrate and destroy. There have been many attempts on my life but I have been cunning enough to evade their traps. I was beginning to lose hope and began to get the feeling that I was in this fight alone, but your site has given me renewed hope. They will be destroyed.
Your Athens Agent
THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS COMPLETELY TRUE.
I have been observing a particular group of sheep that are located down the street from me for quite some time and around 1998 (soon after the evolution of rabid squirrels) they started to act very peculiar. At first I noticed that the males of these sheep started to grow abnormally large genitals. My friends at school and I would make fun of these outrageous proportions until we were invited to visit the sheep. It was during this friendly outing that I was viciously attacked by one of the males. I ran for my life, and since then I have been conducting studies on these sheep. Later on, my team of sheep scientists discovered a poorly done website that dealt with killer sheep. We made the obvious connection: the sheep are rabid. However, not until recently have they been connected to rabid squirrels. I have seen the sheep interacting with groups of squirrels and I believe that the rabid sheep are “born” similarly to rabid squirrels. In conclusion, rabid sheep are to be considered extremely dangerous because, unfortunately, they cannot be harmed by Standard Issue 80*60 Papercut Devices due to their thickened wool. Rabid sheep are only male and can be recognized by their enlarged genitals and their ferociousness.
HEINOUS DEVIATION
It was midsummer night’s eve. The Master Hunter sat on a deck chair and surveyed the surrounding countryside with the air of a monarch. 00’Leary lay at his feet, growling quietly in his sleep, Beard stood at his shoulder, ready to obey his every whim – chiefly rushing off to make more tea, and Mr. Brooks sat nearby on a stack of fig rolls. The three agents discussed what was to be done with the rebels in their ranks, those who would shake the authority Mr. Brooks liked to think he had,
Mr. Brooks: (growling) I still say we hunt them down and flay them alive.
TMH: Please child, calm yourself, we must address this rationally.
Mr. Brooks made a noise like a wasp and sneered at the suggestion.
Beard: Sir, if I might opine…
TMH: Please do, my little grapefruit.
Beard: Well sir, it seems to me that we need to address this issue rationally
The two superior people who were present exchanged glances, then the Master exchanged a glance with Mr. Brooks – he put it in his pocket for later.
Mr. Brooks: Oh, go and wonder the moors, you bloody little poet.
TMH: Give me back that glance, you no longer deserve it.
Brooks returns glance
TMH: Thank you, now apologise to our hirsute friend.
Brooks looked around in mock confusement.
Mr. Brooks: Friend? I see only a glorified butler, whose presence here is only…erm…here because he knew you before you were famous.
TMH: Right, now you’re not getting any tea.
Mr. Brooks: Eating tea, or drinking tea?
TMH: Both, you must drink only coffee, and you must go to bed without anything to eat.
Mr. Brooks wandered off chuntering, and cast a savage look towards Beard. 00’Leary awoke with a start and leapt into the air, catching the look in his mouth and dropping it at his master’s feet. TMH patted 00’Leary on the head,
TMH: Good boy, well done. Beard give him a sugar lump.
Beard: If I may sir, his teeth are already rotten enough, may I suggest a carrot?
TMH: Of course, poke him with a vegetable; we’d all enjoy that.
00’Leary: Oh, please master, don’t do that, my only wish is to serve the dogs.
Beard: Traditionally the word is “gods”
00’Leary: I know.
Beard: And that word is traditionally pronounced with a silent “k”
00’Leary: Oh. (muttering) butler, poet, tart thinks he’s so clever, just cos he can talk proper like.
TMH: Enough of this banter, bring me my jester!!!
The others looked at each other askew, which jester did he mean? Neither could remember a jester, and there was rarely a fifth character in these episodes.
TMH: Jester!!! I want a jester!!!
Tumbleweed: Marry sir, here I am! And thus, lowly and verily I caper!!!
TMH: (clapping hands) Huzzah!!! Caper like you mean it!!! Caper like it’s 1999!!!
Tumbleweed: See sir, I caper!!! Yippety-dap!!! Whoops poop twiddledy-dee!!!!!
Narrator: Cut, cut, cut enough of this, this is just bizarre. What’s going on in this peculiar quasi play? And where did I come from!? When has there ever been a narrator who actually says anything? In speech marks I mean. Or in this instance, in strange indentedness. Hey look, there’s my name over there! Wow!!! That’s brilliant
Knight: Gruyere! Bring me my Gruyere!!!
NARRATOR: Enough!!!!!!! Not Artaud as well!!! Stop this nonsense!!! Think of the children! Just stop it all now. Just make it stop, (now crying), make it stop, stop it’s already dead…
Mr. Brooks: (from off-stage) Aargh! My spleen!!! ‘Tis ruptured, and lo, I depart this life!!!!!
NARRATOR: Right that’s enough of that.
Brandy!!!
I have come up with several answers to the dilemma involving excess squirrel carcasses:
Option #1: If you live near a large body of water (river, lake, ocean, sea, etc.), throw your excess carcasses into the large body of water. If the squirrels you throw in float, you may have to weigh the squirrels down with large concrete blocks found at your local hardware store. If you do not live nearby a large body of water, try Option #2. If you do not have a nearby hardware store, try Option #3.
Option #2: You have chosen Option #2, which probably means you do not live by a large body of water. This means that you must find option besides Option #1 to dispose of the filthy squirrel carcasses. My suggestion to do this is simple: bury the squirrel carcasses.
Option #3: You have chosen Option #3, which probably means you do not live by a hardware store. This means that you will have to devise another way to weigh down the squirrel carcasses in the water. My suggestion is to make necklaces with heavy rocks strung around them and attach one to every 2 squirrels so they are weighed down in the water.
Abraham Woycke
Fellow Squirrel Slayers,
I have been a key member of a rogue-squirrel slaying organisation for many years and I notice with great concern that one of your agents is putting Alka-Seltzer baited traps out for them. In theory this is a great "blow 'em up" idea. However, I can disclose that in this part of the UK, disturbing developments have been discovered. It all boils down to this.... What do they put into the Acorn-grenades? Well, obviously, Squirrel Semtex. But... how do they make squirrel semtex??? At first, my fellow DOSSER's and I (Department of Scientific Solutions for the Elimination of Rabid Squirrels) believed they were using the paracetamol you can't find when you have a hangover, mixed with the end of soap bars which never actually get thrown away but nonetheless mysteriously disappear... However, our Armoury Officer, Special Agent Sandy-Beige (codename "Oz") recently carried out experiments on a captured cache of grenades and discovered that 1) they taste good with chips and a bit of tabasco and 2) when detonated they leave a foaming residue which, on examination via x-ray spectro-photometry indicates that the explosive used contains the same molecular signatures as ascorbic acid, potassium bicarbonate and sodium carbonate. Common name: Alka-Seltzer. We recommend Agent Misciasci temporarily switches to Worther's Original Toffees, preferably frozen for maximum dental impact (available from all local petrol stations and large branches of Woolworths) until the "Wolstanton Project" can be put into effect. Details of the "Wolstanton Project" are currently top secret, however, our Webmaster General - Agent Barley-White (codename: Xander) is developing this as we speak.
......be careful what you put out there......
Special Agent Mid-Turquoise (codename: "Willow")
Intelligence Officer
First Imperial Regiment DOSSER Squad
Greetings fellow RSS members. My name is Darth Defenestrus. Not only I am a member of the RSS, but I am a member of the Sith council and one of the most powerful Sith Lords to ever exist. The birth of the New Sith Republic has been a strong and fast-paced one, however, the Sith are in need of new apprentices, as our numbers are low. I would like to invite you precious few elite members of this elite society of underground peacekeepers to join up with the Dark Side of the force and become a Sith Lord. Among the RSS there are other members of the Sith such as Darth Syphilus and Darth Defecus. This is only an offer, I do not wish to sound commanding, but the Sith Council is in need of apprentices. I merely ask that you investigate my proposition and hopefully you will enjoy what you see.
www.angelfire.com/theforce/thenewsithrepublic
I must now take my leave. May the Dark Side of the Force be with you.
Dear Headquarters,
I, Agent Miko, have found a solution to the dead bodies problem. Leave the bodies in a secure area outside (make sure not to let any squirrels in!). Several days later, retrieve the decaying and dead bodies of rabid squirrels. By now, they should have expanded and started to rot. Get bazookas/cannons/trebuchets (or any other type of catapult/launcher for that matter) and launch them into Rabid Squirrel HQ. It will explode, spreading disease and fellow squirrel guts everywhere.
Agent Miko
I have found a new weapon that is also a useful tool for marking a rabid squirrel. If you go to an art shop you can buy these special pens that when you press down paint comes out the tip. Not only will this poison a squirrel if you jab him with it, it will also leave a mark for identification so you shall know if the squirrel has previously been attacked before identifying it as a target. Yours sincerely, Agent Spidey
I would like to correct a bit out of date info on your "clans" page... true there were three vampire squirrels - until about two weeks ago. I was camping in the mountains with my retarded young cousin Mr. Pepo when they attacked him. It is true, they kill in one bite. Their teeth were so long they sliced his head clear off. That’s when I went crazy. Those bastards ruined my Tenacious D Meat Sauce shirt. I went ballistic on two of them, I know how to kill them... CUT OFF THEIR TEETH! One got away but I clipped off one of his teeth - I will e-mail you his picture. Agent Q6.3 Signing Off...
Dear Master Hunter,
My plan is to recruit animals; penguins to be precise. Penguins have hated evil squirrels since Noah’s ark and they want revenge NOW! You see on the ark the penguins noticed that there were four squirrels (but two of them were locked behind ninety-nine metre thick steel) so one penguin asked Noah, "Why are there four squirrels yet only two of us penguins?"
Noah replied, "Two of them are regular, two of them are EVIL!!!" The penguins were annoyed because they wouldn’t let on the Superpenguins because they were ninety-nine metres tall. Then the penguins said "you idiot, that damn box is ninety-nine metres tall and you let them on!" But it was too late you see as penguins talk very slowly so it took them forty days and forty nights to say all that and their super brothers were all drowned already and the evil squirrels lived on to poison the world.
Penguins are fierce fighters... after all have you ever seen any evil squirrels in penguin country (the South Pole)? Don’t worry; they wont get me, I’m always watching.
Agent Q6.3
If Anyone Canadian is in this Organization, they will remember the outbreak of Black Squirrels in Calgary Alberta. Exterminators had finally thought they had destroyed most of the squirrels but I think they’re wrong (you have to also consider that the exterminators’ senses are blown from the toxic substances in their sprays, jeez they should switch to paper). I'm pretty sure there was something in the sprays that mutated these squirrels. I think they can send electrical impulses into the air to find weakened humans, but this is only what I've seen. If anybody can prove my theory, or has seen strange things in the area, make sure you check it out.
Alex
THE RETURN
It was a pleasant summer’s day, the rain blew hard against the windows of the RSS HQ, and a light breeze blew herds of cows across the vista. Mr. Brooks sat outside in the garden with a look of rapt admiration emblazoned across his face, he had heard that an Englishman is always most at home in his garden, so he was trying his hardest to love sitting in the tatty, weed ridden patch of ground, and after several days hard concentration he had managed to keep the look of pained disgust from his face. The Master was doing the washing up, and 00’Leary was hoovering the hallway; sitting drinking a cup of tea, and engaged in a conversation with Rabid Squirrel 043, who had come for tea, was EmberEm, and as far as anyone could tell, all was well. The Master Hunter finished the washing up and, leaving the crockery to drain on the draining board went to sit and converse with the other agents in the HQ. 00’Leary finished hoovering and also came to join in, all the housework was done and they needed some new entertainment, so out came the Funderbird cards and within four minutes eight men lay dead and 00’Leary’s eyes blazed with triumph. The Master Hunter got up, wiped the dead agents off his cards and told 00’Leary to stop blazing like that, seeing as he had lost, then he went to the window to call in Mr. Brooks, but Brooks was nowhere to be seen and sitting on the chair in which Mr. B had previously been ensconced was none other than Tuffty himself, grinning like a buffoon and picking his teeth with the spurs from Brooks’ boots. Tuffty looked The Master Hunter square in the eye, then triangular in the eye, and finally settled for oval-type-almond-shape in the eye, as this seemed to fit best, held his gaze for three whole minutes – an impressive feat, as the Master had been known to out-stare an egg before. Then with inexorable slowness Tuffty rose from his chair and held up a limp form beside him – the spineless Agent Myself!!! Tuffty then leapt over the fence and ran away cackling – something which TMH considered a little overdramatic as a simple chuckle would have done just as well. Only one thing was clear – the dishes needed putting away, but something else was almost as clear as this: The Rabid Squirrels Were Back, And So Was Agent Myself!!!
Mr. Brooks
The ground stirred. The earth moved. The land groaned.
A dark shadow covered the ground, formed by a cloud, no less. The soil was shrouded by darkness. When at last the Sun peeped through, four figures clambered from the ruins. There were no more rabid squirrels. There were no more Rabid Squirrel Slayers. Yet four humanoids brushed themselves down, greeted each other warmly, and skipped gaily to the pub for a pint of Tiger.
The Duck watched all of this with mild interest, smiled inwardly, and then waddled off to plan world domination.
From a great height, pigeons look just like
fleas.
(c) 2002 Rabid Publications