The past is a foreign country; they do things

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. Justice? You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law. Sheriff Burton unholstered his Colt

and drew in a deep breath. What thoughts would go through a man moments before he died, he mused. Before him El Silva's most feared gunfighters grinned at him and fingered their

weapons. He had 2 sawed-off 12-guage grenade launchers up each sleeve. As he raised his hands he winked at El Silva's most feared gunfighters, cocked his elbows and

blasted the shit out of every last one of those motherfuckers. It was as if the heavens above hailed gunfire out of his hands. Revenge was righteous and complete. La Cucaracha coul

dn't be played anymore if there were no more cockroaches in existence. "Die die die die die!" he screamed, almost louder than his gunfire. He let out a frantic peal of laughter.

Then...silence. The cockroach carnage surrounding him was horrific. Were they all dead now? A whimper behind him. He whirled around. It was Oogy, the fat blue cat, weeping because

there were no cockroaches left for him to chase. Teardrops in all the colours of the rainbow fell on Oogy's fluffy blew paws. He lifted his chin and looked up at the

set out on an epic quest to find Squawkers. But first he need to recruit good friend, expert parakeet tracker and pet detective Ace Ventura who had been in hiding since 2000.

Ace was ashamed of being outclassed by a Carrey-er pigeon, whose flight made pet saving a breeze. When the pigeon found Squawkers stuck in the Octagon, he even delivered his mail.