All was silent in the outskirts of the town that was suffering the aftermath of the chicken rebellion. For miles, the only signs of life were the chicken patrols and the occasional moose that just happened to find its way near the city in search of children to eat. In the fields surrounding the city, the woodland creatures cowered under the might of the chickens, pondering what the diabolical Briac would do next, who would be the next to fall under the chicken war machine?

The terror that silenced the creatures of Canada was not to last long, however, for there were monkeys on the way, monkeys on a mission. >From the distance, a point on the horizon slowly grew to a speck, then a blotch, and finally, the monkeys appeared, like a coffee stain on the horizon. Thundering their way across the landscape, the monkeys marched in a very loose formation. Actually, the monkey mass was only slightly more organized than the average lynch mob, and only slightly more intoxicated as well. At the head of the monkey counter-strike was a mammoth vehicle that emitted a menacing growl, threatening all in its path to either get the hell out of the way, or have another beer, it didn't really care which.

Gunther sat behind the wheel of his custom monster truck with Shawnyboy hanging on for dear life in the passenger seat. Only on a few frightening occasions had the Great Muskrat Prophet been lucky enough to experience Gunther's driving, and on none of these instances was the diety to the simians even remotely close to sober. This particular expedition did nothing to tarnish that perfect record. Gunther was a good driver, and the near lethal amounts of alcohol in his system didn't seem to impair his abilities to any great degree. From the driver's seat, Gunther was leaning out the window with a bottle of his favorite ale raised in the air, bellowing out orders for his army. They would soon be upon the chickens and there was to be no escape for Briac or his minions.

Back at the recently conquered Mounty base of operations, the chickens were finishing their raid against the Canadian peacekeepers. Their offensive had been quite successful, with no real casualties to speak of, except for a couple of bagpipe injuries that were suffered in the initial attack. Apparently the defensive capabilities of a set of bagpipes were greatly overestimated during the chickens' planning sessions. In the office of the Commandant, Briac was busy searching through documents, determing just where any residual Mounty occupation might be. Briac was a thorough chicken and he was not about to let any of those red shirted morons escape his clutches.

Briac sat down at the Commandant's desk and searched through the drawers in the furniture's mahogany bowels. He found nothing of interest except for a few nudie magazines and a small collection of paperclips that had been hooked together to form a chain about seventy-five feet long. Just as he was about to abandon his attempts to find anything useful, he came across a duty roster for the day that seemed to indicate that there was to be a large training session for the canine unit that was to be held in the forests to the west of the city. Briac smiled to himself and made a note in his daily planner, right between 'pick up dry-cleaning' and 'call Mom,' he scribbled in, 'put an end to the Mounty menace.'

Just as Briac was closing his planner and sliding it back into wherever it is that he pulled it from, Carl stormed into the room and threw a crisp salute to the supreme ruler of the chickens. Once Briac returned the gesture, Carl sighed and said, "The monkeys have actually found their way across the fields and they are heading this way. The scout patrols report that we should be up to our butts in monkeys shortly." Briac scowled and squinted thoughtfully as he pondered just how literal the lieutenant was speaking. Chickens were pretty low to the ground, and it wouldn't really take that many monkeys before the chickens would be up to their butts with them. Briac decided that he had better not chance it and smiled, "Do you have the special mechanized armor division ready for mobilization?" Carl nodded, "They will be on line momentarily." Briac merely nodded his approval and waved his wing, there still more important searching to be done and the new mechanized armor that had been developed would be more than a match for those pesky monkeys.

As the ranks of drunken monkeys stumbled toward their destination with their hearts thumping and their minds cloudy, Gunther began to worry about the performance of his minions in the upcoming war with the chickens. The simian warriors had been training for quite some time and were anxiously awaiting their chance to see some actual combat. Gunther took a sip of his ale and pondered for a moment, realizing that the training sessions that the monkeys had been through were not exactly organized, in fact, about the only martial arts experience that his troops had undergone could be best described as barroom brawling. The god shrugged and pulled his truck to a halt as the army crept dangerously close to the chicken infested building.

Gunther and Shawnyboy peered about, surveying the situation, expecting chickens to come pouring out of the building at any moment. Gunther turned to his minions and quickly divided his battalion of drunken cohorts into three teams. One team was to go with him, the second to follow Shawnyboy, and the remaining drunken monkeys was to follow Twitchy. Gunther reasoned for a moment on the possible repercussions of actually having people depend on Twitchy, but he didn't really have much time to debate the point for just as he finished assigning his followers to their respective leaders, a door opened and out marched a sight unlike anything any decent human being had ever seen before.

Carl let an evil smile spread across his beak as the sunlight danced across his visor and he led the march of the chicken army's First Mechanized Armor unit out of their haven within the Mounty complex. He had been working with Briac on developing this new armor for many months, and now it was time for their premier performance as offensive weapons against the monkeys. With a huge claw and underslung jello cannon on the right arm and a marble spewing chaingun in the left, these battle armor suits were to be the pride and joy of the chicken army. They even provided the wearer with the gift of flight thanks to a small rocketpack nestled quietly on the back of the unit. Carl grinned and aimed his marble cannon at the first monkey he laid eyes on. He opened the communication channels to the entire mechanized force and bellowed out, "Leave no monkeys standing!! CHARGE!!!"