It begins. Part VII. ^

Kip had always been severely opposed to destructive things. He was very well known for his articles on the subject, most of them decrying the injustices of the Great Gun, War, though some, including his most recent, focused around the lesser derringer of environmental protection. In fact, he alone had convinced the Mayor of Snellville not to cut down the oak trees on the sides of Main Street through an ingenious maneuver that involved the application of hefty amounts of sheep offal to the stumps in front of City Hall. Granted, he had spent the night in jail, wherein he had an unpleasant experience with soap, but that was the price of preservation, and he bore it with the staid determination inherent of peaceful warriors like himself.

But as he sat in an overmuch air-conditioned office, gingerly tucking his fingertips beneath the elastic waistband of his undershorts in an attempt to ward off the more negative effects of frostnip, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps - just perhaps - Kip Pilgrim had taken it just a titch too far.

But; that was a long time ago.