Stepping out of the car, Old Man Henderson's combat boots crunched against the hard gravel of the trailer park. He pulled out one of a dozen or so shotguns that made up his automatic Shotgun with Under Barrel Shotgun that has an Under Barrel Shotgun of its own, Tactical Side-Mounted Shotgun, stock mounted pump action shotgun and long range bolt action shotgun mounted on the other side. It was just the sawn-off double barrel, old and reliable with an under barrel shotgun and a spike bayonet as pointy as his spiky mohawk; the remain amalgamation of pure American firepower was in the car. His partner had insisted on reducing the initial load of weaponry and pellets firing all over the place. Given that this was Alabama, Henderson's shotgun fetish probably wouldn't be all the unusual for the local populace truth be told.

Loudly smacking down on his gum, the old man gave a 10 lightyear stare at one of the local house cats passing by, utterly terrifying it. You see, this case wasn't any old case for Old Man Henderson, it was personal. He was convinced that it was this "Hatsoup the Asian Skin Stereotype Douche King" fellow who had stole his damn lawn gnomes. His firsts had been balled up the whole way through as his eyes burned with bloodlust, eldritch blood lust, tempered only by Rupert the stuffed parrot. And whenever "Never Gonna Give You Up" came up on the radio. God bless Rick Ashley and his immortal soul.

Part of Henderson just wanted to shout Hatsoup's name and summon him, load him with enough lead to poison the entire water supply of a small town in Michigan, and then piss on his corpse to avenge his lawn gnomes. However, when he asked the magic 8 ball on its sagely advice and got "Reply hazy try again", he assumed that even here, Hatsoup was fucking with the winds of magic to screw over the innate connection that the magic 8 balls had to the universe that it used to predict the future. Fucking Hatsoup, first stealing gnomes and now stealing magical energy.

Bringing his full automatic Shotgun with Under Barrel Shotgun that has an Under Barrel Shotgun of its own, Tactical Side-Mounted Shotgun, stock mounted pump action shotgun and long range bolt action shotgun mounted on the other side out of the trunk, he began to march his way to the trailer marked with 21 as his companion wandered off to go find the supervisor. Wasn't an especially long walk for Henderson but upon looking through the window, his winkly old jaw dropped as he found a most horrid beast: a black squirrel.

Henderson cursed inaudibly as sweat dripped down his forehead, it was a good thing that he was on this mission, any lesser, less experience greenhorn jackass rookie would have fallen for the ambush and get a horrible, furry death but not this old man. In his quietest voice (as to not alert the squirrel who was now attempting to hump the far wall), he asked Rupert, "YA FINAKIN' WEERR ERM FINKANA?"

Henderson was no know for subtly, but at 100 decibles, this was about as pretty quite actually for Henderson mostly because he had blown out his vocal cords (temporarily unfortunately) while attempting to hit all the high notes of a Shakira song that had come on while they were on the interstate. Between the volume and the nigh on incomprehensible Scottish (?) accent Henderson had, he singly handily gave the rush hour traffic the closest they'd hear to eldritch chanting at a pop beat without driving insane. Okay that last part wasn't completely true but at least they were all still socially functioning individuals afterwards. I think.

With a solid kick, Henderson's foot went through the front door of the trailer and got stuck. The door creaked forward causing Henderson right in front of the black squirrel that was now attempting to renact scenes from 50 Shades of Grey on its predecessor, Twilight. The squirrel screamed, Old Man Henderson screamed, bystanders were also screaming and so began a furious brawl of the ages between the old man and the squirrel in a fight that would go down as legendary. Henderson flailed about trying to catch the slippery furry beast and Rupert taking one for the team when he was bitten in his fluffy ass. The battle was firece, but Henderson eventually managed to win out and unstuck his foot. Grabbing his overly compensating shotgun, he aimed it at the terrified rodent, frozen with shock.

"HUOPA LRAA FFISTO, BUUBOHAN." Henderson quoted a movie that cannot be said here due to copyright reasons but you should probably know. Several blasts later, the squirrel had become one with the rug and with furry creature jesus. And shotgun pellets.

Looking back on it, the fight may have been brutal, but an honorable duel between two great warriors. As such, Henderson decided to send off his opponent in the most befitting way: a viking funeral. With the help of his magic Chinese Take-Out Box of Pyromancy, Henderson set the trailer on fire after preforming a full 21 gun salute with a single blast of his automatic Shotgun with Under Barrel Shotgun that has an Under Barrel Shotgun of its own, Tactical Side-Mounted Shotgun, stock mounted pump action shotgun and long range bolt action shotgun mounted on the other side. As the hovel burned and smoke poured into the sky, Henderson was almost driven to tears and began to sing for the fallen foe. Holding back tears, Henderon jump to attention and sung the Soviet National Anthem in near perfect Hindu as he swore he saw the squirrel's soul in the rising smoke, going off to hump a cloud.

"ZEW LERNG, ZPHACEE CERBRY!" gave a final good-bye to his honored foe, still saluting at the cloud refusing the sexual advances of a ghost squirrel as the trailer collapsed in on itself, consumed by the flames.

This mission is going to go swimmingly isn't it?