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Be Prepared Hoodwinked Song [upd] -
Vernon pointed a claw toward the distant clock tower of the woodland town. “The Schnitzelhausen Annual Baking Competition is tomorrow. First prize: a solid gold rolling pin and enough cash to buy our own mountain. But here’s the thing—we don’t bake. We steal .”
The raccoons exchanged nervous glances. The weasel whispered, “But who’s the target?” be prepared hoodwinked song
Flick scribbled: “Big score. Possibly delusional.” Vernon pointed a claw toward the distant clock
Flick raised a tiny paw. “Um. Question. Have you met Red? She’s like… a ninja in a hoodie. She outran a pack of wolves last spring. On roller skates.” But here’s the thing—we don’t bake
In the shadow of the old wooden bridge that led into the heart of the forest, a wiry squirrel named Flick sat hunched over a stolen acorn cap. He wasn’t eating. He was listening.
But Vernon wasn’t listening. He was already pacing again, arms wide, voice rising like a bad community theater villain. “Because when we’re done, they’ll know our names. Not ‘The Big Bad Wolf’—no. They’ll say, ‘That’s Vernon, the wolf who finally had the sense to be prepared.’”
The chipmunks started humming a jaunty tune. Flick wrote: “Phase four? We’ve never reached Phase three in any plan ever.”
