Furry Fiends

Another beautiful day in hell.

Yesterday I was unexpectedly inundated with beavers. Pictures of, that is. So to celebrate here's a picture of one of the wood-chomping wonders:

I am tired, bored, and my brain is trying to escape out of my left ear, yet I am somehow expected to survive from 3pm until 9pm without any food or entertainment. Call this a living?? Conditions haven't been this bad since the Great Cotton Mill strike of 1835. That was a hard year.. But I'll survive. I'm gritty. They don't call me 'Iron Gusset' Stannard for nothing!

And you can't scare me Brass Goods Man! If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine...

You've been warned.