Once upon a time, there was a rather freaky individual of the male pursuasion named Bert. What was particularly freaky about him, besides his large fruity hat, huge Doc Martens and Mr Fussy socks pulled up to his knees, was the checked tutus he paraded about in, on special occasions and all other occasions in between. Although his name was actually Bert Smith, a lot of people called him Crispy Glover because **We interrupt this amazing revelation to bring you the following news: Milk prices are at an all time high. Thank you**. A lot of people found that really hard to believe because it's such an amazing story, but that's how he got his name. Another thing that worried people, nay frightened them, was that Crispy always, always, always carried a bottle of wine with him. It was like his hand was glued to it or something. This wasn't far from the truth, but that's another story. Crispy and the wine had gone through a lot together and he was groing very attached to it. Literally. Anyway... One night Crispy was out wandering the local park. It was dark and cold, but Crispy didn't realise this because he never felt the cold and could see perfectly in the dark. This talent had nothing to do with eating vast amounts of carrots, but rather a hereditary trait passed down from him from his late Auntie Gertie aka Grandma Gertie. To tell you the truth, he wasn't sure how she was related but she was, somehow, and consequently he was passed down the trait of good night-vision. He also inherited from her a badly damaged wheelchair and her dead cat of 16 years. He wasn't sure what he should do with the cat, so he had it stuffed and made into a pencil sharpener, and the thing now adorned a place of honour on his mantle, right next to the ashes of the wheelchair.

In the distance he could see a figure. A person, he thought. He crept closer to the figure and saw that it was none other than Bomb Girl! But she had died in a tragic grenade accident, so how could that be? But it was her alright. She had the ammunition belts and everything. He laughed slightly and walked up to her. Bomb Girl was deep in concentration over what looked like a tubular object. She didn't notice him until he had swaggered right up to her, and she got such a fright she had disembowelled him in self-defence before he could even say... His viscera cascaded to the ground in an ethereal splash, and he turned a strange shade of pale with a hint of lime. At once she recognized him (who wouldn't recognize someone who looked like Crispy??) "Squee! Oh oh I'm so sorry!" she gushed, which was coincidental as his guts were doing the same. He laughed slightly, then fainted.

When he woke up he was in a large cave with a blanket over him. He was miraculously healed somehow and looked around to see if he could find answers. Bomb Girl was looking at him worriedly. "OH MY GODDDD! He's awake!" she squealed. A man entered the room. He was an elderly red indian man with long grey hair and a staff or something. "Ah. Good," he said as he walked over to Crispy. "I am Urinating Bear, leader of the small tribe For Our Souls." Crispy was speechless. But he often was. He looked at the strange man, and laughed slightly, if not a little nervously. He looked at his stomach, it looked normal, though a little yellow. Normal, he thought. Bomb Girl noticed and said, "My attack was ethereal, like me." At first he had no idea what she was talking about, but then he remembered a previous adventure involving a cave and his bright pink rubber ring. He stood up, a little uncertainly. Something wasn't right though. His hand felt strange. He looked at it for a minute, then all hell broke loose: his bottle was gone!

He looked at the indian questioningly. "Oh, the wine? Yes, we left it in the park because it was of no importance. I'm afraid there was no other way." Crispy looked shocked and hurt beyond belief. Relative Gertie would have a thing or two to say about this, that was for sure. There was only one thing for it: he had to find his wine. Crispy wasn't a violent man, but things change, especially when one's wine was in danger. He dashed forward and grabbed the indian's staff, it felt right to have something in his hand. He then thwacked with the staff behind the indian's knees, knocking his legs out from under him. Fortunately, Bomb Girl, who was Crispy's #1 fan, understood Crispy's concern and beckoned him to a secret passageway hidden among the rocks. Crispy sprinted after her, leaving large footprints in the sand from his over-sized and over-weight Doc Martens. "I'll help you find your wine, Crispy, coz you're the hotty, 'k?" she said. He nodded and laughed slightly before entering the passageway with Bomb Girl. It was dark, but Crispy could see perfectly and he stormed forward with Bomb Girl following close behind him, ready to bomb anything that startled her. She was very very alert. So when a bat inadvertently crossed her path, Crispy was startled momentarily as he was strewn with bat bits. He laughed slightly, and continued forward. He ran out into bright moonlight. He wasn't sure where he was though. Turning around, he noticed Bomb Girl climbing into an invisible jet (don't ask how). "Come on," she said, "I borrowed this from my friend Wanda." Crispy was getting more confused by the minute, this night was becoming stranger and stranger by the minute also. He got into the invisible jet and they flew away into the sky, the stars shining all around them. He felt he was in a cheesy romance film. He was going to ask who Wanda was, but as they landed in a field he was introduced to her... and she was the strangest person he'd ever met...

She wore a purple tuxedo with lime green trimmings, a yellow bowler hat and bunny slippers. He was stunned. She put out her hand and he was overcome with awe, as he shook it. She had an incredible grip, and squashed his bony little fingers almost to a pulp. "Enchanted," she said in a deep raspy voice. Crispy nodded and laughed slightly if not a little nervously. He had a deep sense of foreboding something.

****