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Installment 1

• Angry Bear
• The Collectors
• Sir Robbie
• Dark Bark
• Captain H

Installment 2

• Angry Bear
• The Collectors
• Sir Robbie
• Dark Bark
• Captain H

Installment 3

• The Collectors
• Dark Bark
• Angry Bear
• Sir Robbie
• Captain H

Installment 4

• Angry Bear
• Sir Robbie
• Captain H

Let me recall for you one particularly memorable summer evening and when I say memorable it is because it marked the beginning of a very restful time for me, brief as it may have have been. Earlier in the day that angry old bear decided to have a picnic to help alleviate the stress of his burdensome life. It seems that there are

few things that attract the attention of hungry little foxes as much as a quaint little picnic. Needless to say, while the bear was taking a pre-meal nap, the foxes got into the food and made a grand mess of the whole thing. One of them even discovered a bottle of wine, which the bear had been saving up for just the right moment, and managed to drink the entire thing. Upon awakening from his slumber and now in the foulest of moods, the bear grabbed the closest fox by the tail and headed for the other two.

I can't seem to recall what I was doing at this time, perhaps enjoying a delightful game of bocce ball amongst pleasant company. Some half-hearted excuse made way for my leave as my instincts forced me to grasp the greater purpose of servitude and loneliness. As I became aware of the situation I sensed that only two of these dear little foxes were in danger and sure enough as I arrived there they were dangling from the bear's gigantic claws. A moment later I noticed their brother, intoxicated and strapped into the pilot's seat of an ancient rocket ship. This was also the moment in which that

particular fox, overcome by the curiosity induced by a large panel of glowing buttons, managed to start the countdown sequence for an untimely departure.

Before you label this situation as hopeless take note of the fact that I am, luckily enough, immune to panicking while in cheetah form. I convinced the bear to drop the foxes by punching him in the nose which usually does the trick. After I gathered up the foxes, Mr. Bear returned the favor and, conveniently enough, the force of his punch propelled me all the way to the rocket ship. This lead to the simple conclusion that the foxes probably stood a better chance being launched into space than if they were wandering around the forest with the likes of a perpetually angry bear present. Before it could take off, I strapped the two other foxes into the rocket to look after their little brother and watched as they got launched into the evening sky. As I slipped away under the cover of the racket and commotion that such an ignition is known to cause, I wondered what I might do with a moment's rest and the fleeting taste of a normal life. But as they say, once you turn into a cheetah and send some baby foxes packing you may miss the little devils and that's the truth.