Volume 10 - Issue 8
INTRODUCKTION
The following is a transcript from the recent interrogation of a duck by the Master Hunter. [Not the Duck, that terrifying creature is forced to keep its distance, but a duck, representing the species as a whole.]
The Master Hunter: Talk, damn you!
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: That’s better. Now is it true that your species, led by that beast the Duck (shudder), is forming an alliance with the rabid squirrels?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: How far have negotiations gone?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: Surely not?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: How many enormous koalas?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: Oh dear. How well armed are the Duck’s troops?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: That’s disgusting! Are all ducks supporting the Duck?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: That’s something, anyway. How many?
Duck: Quack.
The Master Hunter: What about you?
Duck: Quack!!!
The Master Hunter: Aaargh! Get it off me!
The talk concluded. The Slayers enjoyed ‘duck wrap’ that evening.
The Master Hunter
theMaster@RabidSquirrels.co.uk
RSS WAP WML (INDEED)
Point your mobular phones at: http://tagtag.com/rabid
Once upon a time, it began-
The sky darkened. Smith looked up to see a sea of winged black rodents blotting out the sun. Thousands of the creatures synchronically beat their wings, and squeaked to the rhythm of their flight.
Smith was scared. Smith was scarred. Smith was dead, in fact. As the resident zombie of the Rabid Squirrel Slayers, he was subject to many luxuries, and even had a fan club whom constantly followed him around. Admittedly they were flies, but still, much appreciated.
Being a zombie also provided a handy supply of bait. Rabid squirrels enjoy the fabulous taste of human flesh, and Smith had an awful lot of that. Decomposition only added to the appealing smell. Any rabid squirrels within a metric mile were unable to resist the delightful stench, and so charged at Smith in the way only a hungry rabid can (i.e. using vibrations from the rumbling stomach to slither along the ground). It was then a simple matter for Smith to remove a limb, a grand weapon for beating any enemy.
Arising from the past tense, Smith looked around. Double Oh’Leary drove past in his new invention: the Armoured Teapot.
“Afternoon, 00’Leary,” said Smith vacantly.
“Afternooooooon,” replied 00’Leary, obviously influenced by the Doppler effect. He drove away into the sunset.
‘That’s strange,’ thought Smith. It was half past three.
Smith removed the picnic basket from his head, and lay down the gratuitous tartan blanket. Mr. Brooks, drawn by the scent of cake, turned up in his giant kinetic kinder egg.
“Cake!” he exclaimed. It was his one weakness (well, the one weakness he admitted to, anyway).
Unbeknownst to Mr. Brooks, Smith had been adding small doses of rabid squirrels (a tail hair, an ear, etc.) to each of his cakes. Mr. Brooks had now built up immunity to eating rabid squirrels!
This clever tactic had been presented to Smith by Dr. Grog, the lovable RSS physiotherapist and psychiatrist. Smith now informed Mr. Brooks of this development, and much to both their delights, Mr. Brooks found a rabid squirrel and ate the little blighter. It squirmed a touch more than Mr. Brooks would have liked, but then dissolved unspectacularly in his stomach juices. Mr. Brooks shook Smith by the hand, and then walked off, no doubt to produce the first ever rabid squirrel jam.
Smith was now bored with hanging around, making dull conversation. He wanted adventure. He wanted action. Most of all, he wanted to trick Mutator Merys into bringing him back to life. Being a zombie may have its advantages, but it gets very annoying when you are just trying to clean your teeth, and your head falls off.
Popping over to the nearest drive-through rabid squirrel base, Smith ordered a ‘regular Merys, to go’. By the time he got home it was cold, but the waitress had undercharged him so he was not going to complain. He took off the lid, and Merys clambered out.
“Wheet d’yee want?” she squeaked. A sensible squirrel, she seemed to have accepted that she was trapped, and that the best way out was to co-operate.
“I want to live!” cried Smith, dramatically.
“Fine. Yee’ll need eessence of cheeese, eeye of freeg, eend weee of geerbeel,” spoke Merys, surely exaggerating her accent.
Smith returned five minutes later with the items. Merys took them. Using a scalpel she made a metre long incision under Smith’s chin, and stuffed him with the goods.
Smith woke up three days later. He was alive. Good old Merys. Smith felt a strange appreciation for the rabid squirrels. The feeling began at his feet, and travelled right up to his brain before he realised what had happened. Whatever Merys had done, she had done it well. Smith was a rabid human.
The Master Hunter
He looked around. There was no doubt about it, he was done for. The ceiling was dropping rapidly and there were locked doors all around him. He could get out of this; he had been in more dangerous situations before. Agent 00’Leary took a deep breath, and realised he had a key. He let himself out of the OEEES (Overly Elaborate, Easily Escapable Situation) and relaxed. He got up, dusted himself off, and decided to not relax quite so much. He relaxed his mind.
Right, he thought, What now? The answer came to him in a
flash bottle. “Owe!” he said, reverting to old English as it bounced off his
bonce. He unwrapped the message (now free of all known germs) and red it. “I
really should have read it first” he told himself, as the paint dripped all
over the floor. Right, he was here, in the Squi Skwi Rodent
headquarters, and they all thought he was dead. He drew his mallet, which
looked very pretty in red paint on the floor. He took his mallet out of his
pocket, and single-handedly (the mallet was in his other hand) opened the door
to the corridor.
The first thing that struck him, as he walked out into the corridor, was a small fly. The second thing that struck him was lightning.
“Eauurghhh,” he said, as he woke up. The third thing to strike him in this corridor was the fact that the Duck was sitting cross-legged (quite an achievement for a duck) in front of him.
Bonjour, little one.
“Erm...Hello?”
Correct.
“Erm...what do you want?”
This is quite
embarrassing...
“Go on.”
Well, you see...
“Yes?”
The wife needs tea to
survive, and I just can’t make a decent cuppa.
Agent 00’Leary’s spirits rose, but as he was too busy to worry where all the whisky was coming from, he said,
“So why did you bring me here?”
“I thought it was a piano”
No.
“Ah.”
“Yes?”
00’Leary relaxed. After a long talk, he agreed to teach the Duck how to make a decent cup of tea (the Duck insisted on calling it
) And in return, the Duck gave him the address of the Boot camp of the red squirrel brigade: squirrel marines (not rabid), who just followed the orders of the first person they see upon waking... ‘Interesting,’ thought 00’Leary, as the Duck poured the 67th cup of the morning all over the table.
Agent 00’Leary
FORGING
Surveying the surrounding countryside I thought that there could be no possible way by which we could be attacked from here. I set up the top secret, high-level meeting here safe in the knowledge that there would be no risk of Rabid Squirrel attack. I was trying to forge an alliance with the Pinky Purple Bleeper People on the moon with the view of space to Earth surveillance of Squirrel movements.
I had set up this meeting without the authorisation of either the Master Hunter or Mr. Brooks and thus it was doomed from the start. The Pinky Purple Bleeper People are, it turned out, non-existent. I was ambushed, hopelessly outnumbered, cut to ribbons. I lie here bleeding and ravaged, and wish only this – that no other agents try anything so foolish as this (or, failing that, that they at least try to make allies that exist – such as the Jubjub birds, or the Frumious Bandersnatches).
Agent the Yeti
To Whom This May Concern,
Hello. I am the daughter of the evil, cunning, mastermind, above reproach (and surprisingly devastatingly hansom) KING FUZZBALL! You foolish humans are incredibly stupid, stupid, did I forget to mention stupid? Yes, the most unintelligent species there must be. I have unbelievably broken into your HQ, and yes became an "agent" to your pitiful cause. I have read your mission, and I have informed my father. The sad thing was, he has already known about your plan for ages. Remember your dear Agent Mulder? No, he didn't accidentally die from being flogged to death by acorns, us the RABID GREY SQUIRREL UNDERGROUND SOCIETY had him murdered. Does that shock you? Remember, Agent Screwball? No, he didn't accidentally slip on some cheese and fall into the unfilled pool.... he was PUSHED!
Mawwwhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaa.... The war is just beginning poor soul. The war has just begun. We are ten steps above you at all times. We know when you eat, sleep, breathe and reproduce your kind. (What a sad thing for you, as if you need more idiots like your kind). It is useless, we will win! Mawwwwhhhhaaaa, we will win and yake (I mean take... damn un-pose-able thumbs) over the world with Macintosh Computers and Club 54's. The war has just begun. Sleep well, and make sure you keep your nuts safe. Mawwwwwhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaa.
Sincerely, the evil, cunning, mastermind, above reproach (and surprisingly devastatingly gorgeous) Princess Fliffy
This is Angry Trapper Weasel reporting in. I recently went to a rabid squirrel party undercover, dressed as a rabid. The party was being thrown by King Fuzzball, so I thought I might be able to assassinate him. I entered in my costume, which was quite good. They asked for my ID at the entrance but I pulled out a poison dart gun and killed the three guards, replacing them with replicas of a bear, an emu, and a moose.
They offered me pie. I took a slice. It was good pie indeed. I took the rest of the pie and put in deadly venom that starts at the feet and works its way up to the head, shrivelling it like a raisin. Or a craisin. Depending on if you were a grape at first of a cranberry.
Anyway, I had four other agents somewhere else, but their costumes were so good that they may have been some of the ones who had the pie. I still don’t know what happened to two of them, but King Fuzzball ate one of the four.
Later, I found that King Fuzzball was an impostor. When I killed it, I found out it was the other one of my four troops. That is quite strange isn’t it? One of my men is dressed up as King Fuzzball, throwing a party and eating one of my other men? I mean... it was like two bites! Off the subject again...
So, I ended up killing all the others, taking the pie that wasn’t poisoned, and letting diseased camels roam around in the ballroom. That’s all for my report.
THE TRAP
I am Myself. I am inside a large cheese. I am bait. The trap is set. The squirrels will be lured.
I am Myself. I am bored. No squirrels have eaten me yet.
I am Myself. I am giving up and going home. My advice is that squirrels don’t like cheeses as much as once we assumed.
Special Agent Myself (undercover – smelling of cheese).
Looking back, 00’Leary never really knew how he managed. He had gone for nearly forty-seven cups of tea, and he still could not forget. The Duck had told him about the Red Squirrels.
TRS.
Could he trust the Duck? After all, the Master Slayer was in fear of this entity, and lord knows everything. (I don’t know if that’s relevant, he just does). After much racking of his brains (they were all on his brain rack now, before they were scattered all over the floor) he decided to go and see them.
The Duck had told him they took orders from the first person they saw in the morning. He had a plan.
In the dead of night (3:37 and 34.6s) he sunk into the barracks, and pasted signed posters of himself all over the walls (he always kept a few to hand, for when he was famous) then he waited outside for TRS to awaken.
It was 1201hrs, and the squirrels were still inside. Thinking this was curious (and humming Starlight Express under his breath) he made to go inside out of his alphabetty-sphagetti, and walked towards the door. The Duck fluttered down onto his head.
Quack.
“YARRRRRRRRGH!”
Correct.
“Erm... can you get off my head, please?”
Yes.
“Good”
... ... ... ... ...
“Will you get off my head please?”
Yes.
“Thank you.”
“Er... why are you here”
“How?”
I told you to.
“Oh, right”
“Awwww.”
However, there - is -
anoth...er...
“Another what?”
The Duck faded from view, and he decided to leave it at that. He made a cup of tea, and pondered the things he had been told. But this was not the end for our ‘courageous’ tea-loving Hero...
Agent 00’Leary
DON’T PLAY WITH FIRE (A.K.A. DREADED MAD IGUANA
PART 3)
I have been very stressed out lately trying to crack this code. Before I went insane from it all I decided to take a break and do something fun. My friend and I took the jars with the foetus rabid squirrels in them (there were 18) and carried them to the highest balcony in the temple (which we have named "Breaking Point" because it is the place where we hurl everything breakable from, like toilets. Lots of fun.) Our insane laughter, along with the shattering of glass, could be heard echoing throughout the temple walls as we threw them over. Of course we smoked a lot of rabid squirrel hair before we did to make it even funnier. We saved one for research. The radar didn't go off because they were made with a separate genetic structure to normal rabid squirrels.
The next day we woke up, remembering almost nothing about the day before -
until we saw the broken jars. After a minute of thinking, we realised there
were supposed to be dead rabid foetuses along with the jars. But they were all
gone. "Is that right?" we said. We saw strange wet footprints and
followed them down a long hallway until they went up the wall and onto the
roof. I went back to my computer to check on the security cameras, only to find
that the security cameras had all been destroyed. Not only that, I discovered
that the computer itself had been destroyed (this report was typed after I got
a new computer), and so I threw it off the balcony. Upon further investigation
I discovered my computer had actually not been destroyed, after all. Now I was
furious. Not only had they destroyed my security cameras, they also tricked me
into breaking my own computer. I circled the temple, spilling a trail of mint
extract (something I heard they hate). Now if they were still inside they would
be trapped, and if they were outside they would not be able to get inside. I
went off to buy a new computer. When I returned with the new computer I threw
it off the balcony. Now I could use the pieces in this one to repair the old
one. I’m such a genius.
While in the process of repairing I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
When I turned to look around it had already gone behind the corner, so I went
to investigate. When I peeked around the corner all my wishes had come true.
There was a whole group of gorgeous young babes! All my hard work had finally
been rewarded. As I slowly emerged I saw my friend in the middle of them all.
"What’s going on here?" I asked.
"While you were out buying a new computer, I found these girls wandering around. They said they were on a hike with their summer camp and got lost. I’m letting them spend the night."
"I’m afraid they can't, it’s too dangerous here right now with those squirrel things running about," I said.
Thinking about what my friend said, I remembered he told me they were with their summer camp, but it is only spring. Why would they be with a summer camp in spring? I quickly realised the obvious. "YOU IDIOT!!!" I yelled. Suddenly all the girls fell down and started making horrible screeches. "What’s going on here?" asked my friend. Just then, hairless rabid squirrels that have my friends’ eyes and other facial features (they had somehow gotten his genetic information - my friend refused to comment) burst through the chests of the girls. "Come on!" I yelled. We made haste and ran to the other side of the temple. I had another brilliant idea. I quickly carried the computer up onto the balcony. I waited until I saw one pass under us then dropped it. It killed four, then blew up and killed two others. Now there were eleven angry squirrel things on their way up.
"There’s no other way down, we’re trapped!" I said.
"What do we do?" said my friend. We looked behind
us to see a large gas tank. My friend (being an expert on pyrotechnics) said,
"Give me your lighter!” We stood behind the tank as he held the lighter
under the spout, and when the squirrels got there he turned the knob. WHOOSH!
Squirrel a la flambé. "Good job." I said. I recommended for him to
join the RSS. As we walked down the balcony I looked behind me to see that a
little flame had stuck to the end of the spout. This meant that the flame had
sucked back into the tank. "OOOHHH SSHHI..." BOOM!
We recovered quickly thanks to our friend Johan and his family, but the balcony
will never be quite the same. I got a new computer and took the hard drive out
of the old one. I’m still looking for the password.
Agent Jerro
-and then it got stranger-
Dear Sir,
I am writing this as a complaint letter for lack of the use of the word "banana". Example: instead of saying, "the man ate a banana," one might find oneself saying, "the man ate a yellow crescent-shaped fruit." I have become so used to seeing it written like this, that I have forgotten the word "banana". Please, whoever is reading this, say "banana" would you?
Sincerely,
Angry Trapper Weasel
THE MAN WHO SAW EVERYTHING TWICE
Ghaleon looked around. Where am I, he thought, then remembered that he was
transported there by Zophar to help the squirrels. He looked around and saw
Hiro and the others fighting some squirrels. "They have Dyne's light
shining brightly in their eyes," said Ghaleon to the sky. He is not going
to help the squirrels. Instead, he is going to right the wrongs he has
committed 1,000 years ago, when he destroyed the magic city of Vane and tried
to take over Lunar. He was resurrected to help Fuzzball, but he has Dyne's Sword,
so he will not have a problem taking on every squirrel here. He fights Hiro and
the gang, but loses purposely so they can save Lucia (Hiro's true love and the
only one that can save our planet from eternal darkness) and I can kill
Fuzzball. Me and Fuzzball tried to take over the world as Magic Emperor and
Magic Squirrel until I found out he had no real magic powers. I stripped him of
his Dragon Aura and cursed his soul, but he met Acorn, who undid the curse
(somehow). I have killed Jakra and Wonky Branch, and severely injured Nutty and
Tuffty, so I can fight good.
I kick open the throne room, and use Plasma Rain to kill all of the squirrels
in there albeit Fuzzball. "You have word from Zophar?" he says.
"Like hell," I say, and hack him up with my sword. An alarm goes off.
It was a decoy. I exposed Hiro and the gang. I step into the portal and find
the real Fuzzball, laughing and telling his guards to kill me. I Paralyse all
his guards, and watch him get on his knees and beg me not to kill him. I hack
his head off, knowing it will mean I betrayed Zophar's cause and will vanish
into the clouds. I look up and see Dyne with Alex and the gang, telling me that
I am now welcome to be here, with all the other Heroes. I smile and the rest is
history. I saved Hiro and his friends. Hiro and Lucia heal the Blue Star, and
that world is anew, so humans can live there again.
Ghaleon
Agent Sloth, Lizard King, the Prime minister, the Senior minister of truth and beauty, slayer Ed Brooks, the master Slayer himself, Gerronimo, Sir Prancelot, junior minister of truth and beauty and myself recently, using ultra high technology stealth gear and a bag full of cockles and mussels alive alive oh, infiltrated the secret HQ of the rabid squirrels.
To prove the authenticity of our adventure I have procured from the very hide of King Fuzzball during one of his disgusting drinking binges with nothing but an extra furry pipe cleaner to aid me, as the other two members of our team were unfortunately incapacitated by a flying anteater and temporarily lost their minds, forgetting the whole experience.
We discovered the previously hidden existence of a secret agent for the rabid squirrels dating back to the 60s known as secret squirrel, first name sshh. This dangerous creature is thought to look sufficiently human to have infiltrated the exalted ranks of the RSS. This could be due to the fact that the test is patently obvious to a rabid squirrel, as they would just have to follow their basic instincts to pass the test and gain entrance. Before succumbing to his delirium the master slayer exhorted me to exhort you to find and eradicate this menace.
Captain Molo
The Wonderful Adventures of Bjorn Parramoure
A strange event...
One day, Bjorn sat on the carpet in front of the fireplace next to the phone. The radio babbled Hurricane warnings, and the wind howled outside. All of a sudden, a giant swarm of winged squirrels exploded into the quiet cabin! Chittering satanically, they snatched his one true possession: his dirty shoelace.
The shoelace was the most important thing in his entire life. It had delivered him from certain death thirty seven times. It even kept his shoes on his feet for him. Yes, the shoelace was his best friend.
The army of flying tree rodents escaped into the night with the loot in hand. Bjorn cried out into the night, "Why! Why did they take my shoelace!?!"
Bjorn's Quest
Ever since the devastating shoelace-knapping, Bjorn dedicated his life to the returning of the lace. If he finds the shoelaces not intact, he plans to chastise them harshly.
A shocking discovery!
During Bjorn's righteous quest to return peace and tranquillity to his humble cabin by retrieving his shoelaces, he has made a shocking discovery! The squirrels that robbed him were only henchmen of a higher authority: The King of Squirrels, Red Fuzzball! Bjorn intends to verbally reprimand him as well as the thieves. A chase for the lace...
Bjorn continues to pursue Red Fuzzball so that the world will not be brought to its knees begging for mercy before Red Fuzzball. Bjorn will fight against Red Fuzzball to the death in order to help his fellow humans. So support Bjorn and his righteous cause, fight evil and return Bjorn's long lost shoelaces!
-and then it relaxed-
Agent 00’Leary sat back.
For the last three weeks, he had been working on the perfect substitute for all the hassles of Making The Tea. Even though it was a highly enjoyable experience, when the other agents tried they just could not make a decent cup of tea.
So combining his degrees in entomology, tea making, genetic engineering, and biology, he had done it.
The perfect thing.
The epitome of good taste.
The teabug.
Three inches long, it was black with a large sac on its back. When annoyed it produced the tea in self-defence.
There was one problem. The thing was the most docile creature he had ever met. Agent 00’Leary, who could annoy anyone without even trying, just could not get the teabug to produce tea.
Next issue: 27-June-2001
-and then it ended.
(c) Rabid Publications