Stabbing Spider awoke to another horrible, dreary winter day.
Sharpen my talons, grind grind grind, Stabbing Spider is of a killing mind. Yesterday’s vengeance will make today’s even sweeter.

Crazy Camel spits back into the water trough, the liquid hotter than lava. He spies a spy sitting near the fence and trots his way to the offender. Knowing this is a trap doesn’t make it any easier.

Frisky Feline dangles her shiny over the fence post, enticing the stupid hump-backed dog to walk her way. She licks her paws in expectation, and wonders if his hump is as tasty as his belly will be. Her armor hangs nearby stained from last week’s exploits.

Drunkard Donkey staggers toward the field of lies, staggering not because he is drunk, but because he is not. He follows the weeds and the grass and the lines in the dirt, he has no direction, just wobbles along. He wonders where tonight’s revelry will take place.