Wally the Wombat

Wally was born in the city of Melbourne, Australia in 1985. He never did get to wander free, climbing trees and playing with his wombathood buddy KoalaMate. However, he did get to live in a fantastically quiet stuffed animal store for the majority of his life. "I remember the lady who packed me into the shipping box to go from the factory to the store," he said in an interview with the Puppet Free Press shortly before his disappearance, "We were so sad that day, me and the other Australian Species puppets. But we didn't know why. Sammy [the Emu] kept crying and pecking at his own feet." He paused and suddenly smiled with the memory, "...then she came. The goddess with golden tresses. She looked just like Kylie Minogue, you know, the girl from "Neighbours"? She could easily have just taken us up by the handful and thrown us in the boxes. But she picked us up separately and took a moment to play with us, doing those little voices that people do to make themselves feel better about the fact that we're slaves...man, that has always bugged me. Anyway. When it was my turn, she actually looked me in the eye. I think...I think she really believed I was real. I tried to wink at her but of course I hadn't been made with blinking eyes, not like those damn dolls - and boy, what a waste of horsehair they were. But she smiled at me. She looked me in the eye, smiled at me and said, and I'll never forget this, "You'll be fine, fella. Just keep your chin up and your pretty little ears sticking out.". Then she kissed the top of my head with her pudgy, moist lips and placed me gently in the box next to KoalaMate and my two wombat brothers." Wally lived in the tourist store for seventeen years before he was purchased. He came to Canada in the arms of a 5 year old girl. Shortly after she turned 6, Wally was viciously kidnapped in the jaws of a small, desperate live terrier. It is not certain by any means that he has died,however, he is gone from us and we dedicate this phrase to him: "He who jumps o'er hill and dale with open heart, he will not fail."

The Duck Twins

Born in 1990 and disappeared in a haze of mystery and gun smoke in the early hours of January 1st, 2000 They were christened "G" and "T" for their maternal grandparents but they preferred to be called P.Di**y and J.*o - mostly on Saturday nights under the lights of a glittery disco ball and surrounded by thousand dollar bills coated with the highest grade of blow known to man or duck, squawking their love to everyone around them and grabbing the mic from the dj to create their own phat beats. To most, they were known as the Duck Twins. More straight-laced members of the community thought the twins' carefree, renegade natures were beyond reprehensible. As teen ducks, they overturned parked cars, with the help of the mysteriously tormented "Vaken the Bad". As young adults, they made their fortune stealing loaves of bread right out of old ladies' hands and reselling them at inflated prices to domestic ducks trapped in suburban lakes and at local beaches. Most famously, though, the Duck Twins were responsible for the "Wal-Mart Duck-o Inferno". A cool November morning in 1999 found G and T sitting in the backseat of their chauffeur-driven Jaguar, heading to an infamous part of town: Mallairdville. It was a neighbourhood without a Welcome sign and without limits. It was a neighbourhood with a Wal-Mart. All Wal-Mart cashier Billy knew that morning was that his cash register kept opening and closing on its own, accompanied by the sporadic blinking of the overhead lights and infrequent blasts of (Burn Baby Burn) Disco Inferno through the ordinarily muzak-ridden sound system. Meanwhile, the Duck Twins were standing at the loading dock, with Vaken the Bad keeping watch over the trussed and blindfolded warehouse workers. Soon, four-star guests began arriving, including The R**k and Elvis C**tello, brandishing fistfuls of money and cartons of crack and within an hour, the Wal-Mart was cleared of its sub-standard clientele and staff and was hopping with the sounds and sights of a full-on Disco Boogie Dance Party. All thanks to the tiny, industrious minds of two ducks who were never told they couldn't dream. Their disappearance was widely credited to a small militia group, Free Trapped Ducks, which, to this day, hides behind a successful, international floral business. To P.Di**y and J.*o, wherever you are: know you are missed and loved, y'all. Get Down Tonight! Raise a Little Hell! D-to-the-U-to-the-C-to-the-K! Word!

Vaken The Bad

Vaken the Bad always preferred to speak for himself in life. We encourage him to do so here, as well. As if we have a choice.