Volume 9 - Issue 3
10-February-2001
The latest mission you sent me on was, as usual, almost my
last. I successfully tracked down the squirrels lair by following the sounds of
Ricky Martin music (they were having a party - it was the regional leader's
birthday and he has a certain penchant for "living la vida loca",
"she bangs" and other of Mr. Martin's fine hits), and taking only a
heavily loaded bagpipe, a bag of illicit jelly beans and a Small Hamish for
protection I set off to capture a squirrel. I infiltrated their den through the
kitchen by disguising myself as a heavily disguised waitress - the waitress I
was disguised as was disguised as a heavily disguised RSS agent - a plan so
cunning that it confuses even myself. Once inside my purpose was clear and
precise, I must capture at least one rabid squirrel for research purposes, kill
as many squirrels as got in the way and steal all the birthday cake to further
shatter the morale of those left alive (should any have survived of course). On
entering the kitchen I found myself confronted - to my considerable surprise -
by none other than Nutter or Tuffty - I can't tell the difference. I
momentarily distracted them by deploying my Small Hamish in their direction (I
use the plural to make me sound braver - as if there were more of them). They
were caught off guard by this strange approach, as they didn't know Small
Hamishes really existed and fought to gain control of their minds as they
wrestled with the concept of something that didn't exist being in their
kitchen. I shot them with my bagpipe - sending a terrible spray of liquefied
liquorice [spelling?] into their astonished face(s) - they hadn't expected
someone who is so blatantly not Scottish to be able to use bagpipes with such
alarming efficiency, and I dashed for the main body of the party, the howls of
a disgruntled Nutter/Tuffty ringing in my ears. I burst into the room and found
myself amidst a writhing sea of bopping and jiving squirrels, I stunned several
with my illicit jelly beans and peppered the room with liquorice from the
bagpipe, and I made a dash for the exit - right across the other side of the
room. As I made my daring and dastardly escape I grabbed two medium sized
squirrels who had been innocently tearing at the bloodied corpses of several
cattle. I was pursued for several miles by infuriated rabid squirrels, baying
for my blood, or, failing that, my lovely new shoes. I lead them on a merry
dance through East Anglia and into Greater London, where I managed to lose them
in the crowds inside the House of Lords. Masquerading as one of the law lord I
succeeded in passing several bills concerning the fine art of window cleaning
before making my escape into the freezing London night. As I trudged,
exhausted, but satisfied, back to my home in south Leicestershire I brutally
clubbed one of the squirrels I had captured to death with a jelly bean, because
it called me a nasty name and told me to go cycling - I was unsure where it got
the idea that this was an insult, but I understood the sentiment, so killed it
anyway. The surviving squirrel was suspiciously quiet for the rest of the
journey, and upon my arrival home I learned, to my own misfortune, that he had
fashioned a weapon - a small but deadly device - out of one of the illicit jellybeans
I had been carrying in my pocket. He leapt forth out of the upturned bowler hat
I had been transported the captives in and sprang at my throat, after a short
but bloody battle he was subdued by the timely arrival of fellow Agent 00'Leary
who had come round for tea. 00'Leary stunned the creature with a large mallet
he was carrying for reasons which he refused to disclose and I assumed were
left best alone. The squirrel is now in residence in my secret laboratory and I
have successfully extracted a serum of sorts from his teeth, I call it
"Tooth Serum". It renders badgers paralysed - and has little or no
effect on uninfected squirrels, regrettably it has little effect on rabid
squirrels either, but I'm working on it. I have found that if you hit them hard
on the head with a big stick they go "OW!!! YOU BUGGER!!!". I don't
know if that helps at all.
After conducting further research on the squirrel I had
earlier captured, I discovered something intriguing. Not only did the squirrel
have rabies, but it was also a carrier (though not a sufferer) of Harper's
syndrome. This is a little known disease, which hitherto was thought only to
affect rhinoceroses, and is crippling, irreversible, and thoroughly unpleasant.
First the rhinoceros feels a bit groggy, and then come flu like symptoms, after
this the fever sets in and then the really bad stuff starts. The afflicted
animal becomes overwhelmed by an irresistible urge to boogie. They can't help
but dance the night away. The creature is lost forever in the halls of those
who could not help themselves but dance. I am unsure what the possible
implications of this are, I shall return to their top secret hideout tomorrow
(as long as they haven't moved it - hopefully they'll all still be hung over
from the party) armed with my book of "The Canterbury Tales" and the
incineration spell I learned from Gandalf the wizard to capture some more
squirrels. Wish me luck.
I am returned from my second visit to the squirrel lair.
Unfortunately for me the squirrels had recovered from the previous couple of
days jollities and were armed and waiting for me. I was, inevitably, captured
and brutally tortured, but, after a day or two of terrible dental torture, I
affected a brilliant and daring escape involving a pencil, a chandelier and a
small fig. I managed to escape with the prize of three healthy (aside from the
rabies of course!) squirrels to aid my research. I spent most of today
investigating and probing and generally vivisecting two of the three squirrels.
I am keeping the third untouched for now in the hope of curing it of its rabies
and setting it to work for us using agent VenomCat's invaluable (that means
good) research - or I might burn him, it could be more fun. I have found in my
extensive research that you can brutally maim a squirrel in a number of ways,
you can inject all sorts of things into them, you can force feed them loads of
stuff, you can throw them off buildings (as you can imagine - I kept having to
go and get more squirrels to play with) you can do all manner of unpleasant
things to a rabid squirrel and more often than not it will refuse to die. No
matter what you do to it, it will take a considerable amount of time to die. I
recommend a rather exciting cocktail of cheese, cotton wool, dandelion and
burdock, Joe's hair, wotsits and a large quantity of Hydrochloric acid - I
can't be certain but I think the active ingredient is the wotsits. I call this
concoction "Oxtail Soup" and it is readily available at any
supermarket. Alternatively you could just make it eat a grenade, or shoot it
repeatedly until it stopped moving.
I was recently eaten by a rabid squirrel. Beware of rabid
squirrels trying to eat you. I was walking to school, as I do every morning,
and as I turned the corner onto the road that leads to school I was attacked by
a large squirrel, suspiciously large - in fact I have considered the
eventuality that it may have been a tiger in disguise taking advantage of the
unusually high rabid squirrel population in my area, but it could just have
been a particularly large squirrel, stranger things have happened (that horse
becoming pope for one) anyway, I digress. As I turned the aforementioned corner
the also aforementioned squirrel leapt upon my head from some unseen place and
proceeded to devour me from the feet upwards. You may not consider this a
freakishly large squirrel but the feat of jumping on my head was impressive in
itself - I am 6'4" - to then eat me from the feet up whilst still on my
head was nothing less than astonishing. As you can probably imagine I was more
than a little disgruntled with the mornings events so far and when the squirrel
got to my knees I decided I had had enough. I shook him off and ran, on
bleeding stumps, for the nearest building, upon entering the first building I
came across I was surprised and perturbed to find that it was the very studio
in which "Wheel of Fortune" is filmed and an episode was currently in
production. I dashed across the studio as fast as anyone could if they had just
had their legs eaten by a rabid squirrel and left the building by the door on the
far side, upon leaving the building you can imagine my surprise at bumping
straight into the squirrel which had been lying in wait for me ever since I had
appeared on "Wheel of Fortune" which he had been watching on a
television he rushed out and bought. He jumped on me again and ate me once more
(from the knees upwards this time) I asked for mercy and then cried for help in
a number of languages, I considered briefly begging for mercy, but decided
against it because that would have just been undignified, there was no escape.
When he stopped chewing and I was safely in his stomach I discovered, to my
good fortune, my legs, I stuffed them in my pocket and swam around looking for
some way out, other than the obvious and rather unpleasant route (cutting my
way out). Regrettably I had no choice in the end but to carve my way out of his
unpleasant innards with my deluxe paper cut device. I dragged myself the rest
of the way up to school and made my way to the textiles department whereupon I
procured a needle and thread and re-attached my legs. I then made my way to the
school munitions dump and selected a fine array of weaponry with which to
finish off the offending squirrel (or tiger). I shot the squirrel several times
in the face and took his skin as a trophy - I am currently wearing it as an
attractive overcoat, several foolish creatures have commented unfavourably on
my squirrelly garb but I have viciously mown them down in an orgy of gunfire
(don't worry, they were mostly squirrels who took offence to my wearing of the
skin of their brethren). I am currently being quarantined by several fellow
agents in case I have become a rabid person, in which case I intend to take
over the world and then eat the master hunter for lunch to prove my supremacy.
Wish me luck,
Big Slayer Mr. Brooks
PS - my advice to you is to avoid getting eaten, it is a
most regrettable thing to have happen to you.
(c) Rabid Publications