Acme delivered the death ray the next day.

Acme delivered the death ray the next day. Inside, however, there was only a toilet plunger and a small pamphlet entitled "So You've Bought Your First Death Ray". Wile E. was not

amused, so he called the toll-free number printed in tiny letters at the back of the booklet, in matt-white ink on the gloss-white page (thus betraying its presence to his eagle ey

ra.) He named his pet eagle "Eyra" after his drunk uncle who'd been a butcher in a Siamese deli. His uncle was paying of a debt to a mercenary named Nag Nag Phook.

Nag Nag Phook was no fool. He knew no Siamese ever got a pet eagle. It must have been a robot, then. An evil, feathery robot created to avenge his uncle.

His uncle was in bird futures and saw that they had very little that interested him. Still, trading wings for rings wasn't such a bad gig. Nag Nag never cared for Uncle Plok Plok

but he really had been wearing his thinking cap when he came up with this scheme. That got her thinking about what might have happened to him in Kosovo that he wound up here like t

-his, fat and drunk and known only as the Burgundy Scotsman. It was all her fault, she knew this, and though she tried not to think about it, it was her responsibility to help the

fat, drunk, Reddish-purple, dress-wearer, despite the fact she didn’t want to, nor did she even slightly care about him; he did give her an allowance though, so that meant a lot.

Soon, however, the allowance became inadequate. She wanted more for putting up with him. He agreed, but only if she would get naked, cover herself in whipped cream, and dance. This

was no surprise. The demand was too foul, too childish, and very much like his father's. She decided to give him the Hook, like she did his dad, but slowly. She wanted him to last.