BreakerBreaker we have a hairless acrobat trapped inside the utility storage compartment over here in the Camper Van. Someone shoved a baby guinea pig and dirtbike handlebars into her headchamber, but she's still got a full tub of popcorn in her hand. I think she's gonna make it. Do you read me?

Copy that. Mobile1. Requesting patience, as we've got a serious situation here in the circus tent involving a pterodactyl, the trapeze, and what looks to be Mother Hubbard with a rifle in her baby sling. Requesting backup.

BreakerBreaker this may be a serial situation as the stow-and-go seems to contain numerous hair scalps including two ponytails, a turban, and fortheloveof Pete— a bowl cut. We're not going anywhere soon. I'll call Safari/Ranger Dude and see if he can come over on the jeep. Last I saw the vehicle, Pharoah and his buddies had stripped the thing and had it up on blocks in the Pyramid. But I bet she still motors just fine. If you see any hairless patrons, send them our way. Copy?

Mobile 1! Mobile 1! We may have a hostage situation. Mother Hubbard refuses to dismount the flying trapeze, and has her sight aimed at the saxophone-wielding circus monkey. She's demanding the orange juice and sardine tin from the RV as well as the adult-sized dirt bike. Pterodactyl is losing his grip on her ankles, and noway nohow that mini rake and dustpan is gonna handle this kind of mess, should this thing blow up.

BreakerBreaker, Tell Mother Hubbard we just checked the cooler. Those tiny foodstuffs likely went straight down the heating vent by way of some chubby little fingers months ago. Tell her the ambulance is on the way containing the IV—which doubles as a Caprisun or a Pina Colada, depending on the plot line. Talk her down Mobile 1! You can do it. She's probably just desperate for some alone time—what with only a rocker to sit in, a fussy baby in an hideous canopy-crib to entertain her, and a huge purple bonnet strapped to her head. Tell her if she puts down the rifle, we'll give her the keys to the RV no questions asked. And for god's sakes, tell pterodactyl to put a sock in it. We'll bring him a handful of baby chicks from the farmhouse, just as soon as we can snap these hairdos on their rightful owners.

Thanks, Mobile 1. But we've got much bigger problems. It's the last Monday of the month, and Mommy is on her "Clean up for the Cleaners" mission. Tell all your people to assume the position, as those flailing arms are about to swoop in and sweep up. The way this lunatic cleans, there are likely to be many casualties.

Breaker Breaker. Copy that old buddy, and warn all units: Beware the Dyson. BEWARE THE DYSON. **