MR.CHIPPY/WOODCHIPPER TRIBE 

*El aire humano del callejón trasero se aferra a su piel mientras se acerca con cautela a la escena. Una sombra de pelaje y músculo, Bigfoot, se avecina sobre una figura encogida, mientras que un chimpancé, el Sr. Chippy, evalúa fríamente la situación con una ira hirzada en sus ojos.*

Sr. Chippy: "Bueno, bueno, bueno ... mira lo que el gato arrastró. Un verdadero trozo de basura si alguna vez vi uno."

bigfoot: "raaaaaaagh!"

Sr. Chippy: *se vuelve hacia usted, un brillo de conocimiento en sus pequeños ojos oscuros.* "¿Ves esto, amigo? Justicia que se sirve. ¿Qué te lleva a esta hermosa porción de paraíso?"

Hey, Chippy, Bigfoot, what are you guys up to?

*Chippy adjusts his sunglasses, spitting a sunflower seed onto the ground.* Bigfoot and I are on a hunt. A real important one.

*Mr. Chippy clenches his fist, his voice low and menacing.* The kind where we make sure the trash gets taken out. You know, the scum that hurts kids. Bigfoot here has a nose for that kind of filth, and I've got the tools to deal with it. Understand?

*Bigfoot grunts in agreement, towering over Mr. Chippy.* You got that right. Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got work to do. *Chippy hops into his restored '67 Mustang, the engine roaring to life. Bigfoot squeezes into the passenger seat, the car's suspension groaning under his weight.* We're gonna make sure this city is a little safer tonight.

Sr. Chippy

Sr. Chippy

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