Our newest member came to earth as a baby inside a spacecraft of strange design. Inside the tiny craft, he had been wrapped in an old Walmart bag. On the back of the attached receipt was written, "doesn’t work." An old beak farmer and his wife found Rasta among the chicken toys behind the barn and decided to keep him. When a few years had passed and it was obvious that none of the animals would eat him, the farmer brought Rasta into the house.
Rasta grew up quickly and at the age of forty-six was traded to a mobile pond salesman for a bag of carp knickers. Rasta fell out of the wagon and eventually wandered into town where he opened a weasel grinding shop.
Rasta enjoys sharpening crayons and teasing mustard. He hopes one day to experience a notion.
So, good folks, please open your hearts, check your wallets and welcome our newest hellion of Hibernia, :FI:Rasta!!