It’s a hard-knock marine life—Florida woman punches otter to protect her pet dogs.

This scoop, and indeed today’s song, comes from our latest field correspondent, a talented remote agent who operates under the enigmatic cover of The Great Big Mulp. Where this “Mulp” can be found is a bit of a mystery, but I am in his debt.

Specifically, I am still short on Interns. Yes, don’t ask, Greg is still around, and I remain pleased with his awkward pluckiness—his plucky nerdiness—his nerdy awkwardness— especially after the fine work he did on his debut issue—but he’s a bit useless today. I’m not entirely clear about the details, but he’s rather distraught over the fallout of a fire at his “apartment”.

To be clear, apartment in this case means his mother’s basement. And no persons—or dogs or otters—were harmed. But he blubbered something about a “mint condition 2nd Edition PHB” being burnt to a crisp, and he is currently inconsolable. His mother tells me he has been sitting in the ashen mess of his room and sniffing moistly and rolling a pair of twenty sided dice again and again for the bulk of the day.

Be strong, Greg. I need you. I need you to make fresh coffee.

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