Sam, the Eagle, always the enforcer of morals, being culturally upright and wholesomely good, was on the way to the convention center where 911 calls were coming in left and right, complaints of chaos and mayhem caused by an out of control matted haired bear.

No doubt it was the “comedian’s bear” as he liked to call himself, Sam scoffed at the thought. Suddenly, his radio sounded, “Lieutenent Sam, come in, please.” Sam groaned, but picked up his radio and gruffly spoke into the mic.

“Greetings, base. Whatever is it that you need?” His thick brows knitted together as he waited. “It seems there has been an explosion near your friend Beaker’s place and you are needed in that area.” Sam could imagine the smirk on the dispatcher’s face, calling Beaker his friend.

He held his composure, as a good moral American Eagle would, “I shall make my presence known there.”

Sam turned his squad car around and parked a block away. No need to scare the Tweaker, Beaker, to death, before time.

“Greetings.”