On two wooden peg-legs Pirate Pigeon click-clocks through the gutters of the loop. In his racksack: a jar of peanut butter and a treasure map, ’X’ marks the spot. If only he knew how to read. He takes his perch upon the Tribune Tower, beside the gargoyles. He flutters off, headed north this time, toward the brewery. Take cover, he’s armed with peanut butter bombs. He might be after more than just out tanks!
Reviews