When a crusty old thing like my pops is kicked outta his favorite waterin hole, it ain’t pretty. Add onta that he ain’t allowed ta hunt anythin that breathes in town and it gets even uglier. The ole’ coot’s taken up huntin trams of all things. Though I ain’t happy he’s tryin ta send em flyin at the buildins a people he’s got a beef with. Good thing he hit the solid steps of the freak house instead a the Bucket he was aimin ta herd it for.