The animals are revolting, things are about to get wild. A baboon with a sign declaring "I need my fur more than you" somersaults onto the stage. A giraffe, his long neck swinging from side to side careens wildly among the massed gathering of two leggers. Mr Pig is fighting with a pimped-out leopard wielding a newspaper. The crowd is howling, screeching, growling; this is a political protest of the most vicious kind.
A frenzied herd of animals rip down a statue to Deadpi9, effectively ending Deadpi9's reign. The animals rejoice. Wrestler Masked Man, now liberated, declares the leopard as the new emperor and his first decree is that The Pig Floyd, the party animal enclosure, is open to all humans. All must proceed to the dark, smokey, sweaty cave of a room filled with beasties, high on revolution, losing themselves to the night and to the beats of a two legger, a man with "Two shoes", a man by the name of Toby.
Backtrack a couple of hours, to before the main mayhem ensued in a time when a different breed of animal was upon the stage, the altar of Deadpi9. A cat, a jackal and their nomadic orchestra captured the attention of all. Their audience raptly following their peculiar tales of piratical dealings upon the high seas, tales of bad men with hearts full of darkness and minds full of murder, tales of dancing devils and seductive succubus's. One particular tale of a lost pair of shoes instigates a strange response from those gathered beneath. Many take off their own shoes, holding them to the heavens, soles and souls exposed and waved from side to side for all to see. "Where's my shoes, where's my shoes!?" they chant. This is worship of the strangest kind.
Fast-forward to the new regime and into the inner dealings of The Pig Floyd and it's all a bit too much. The animals are turning into wild things, the smoke is thick and sticky - an escape is needed. Only one can be rescued: a small pony which, in a coincidental twist of fate, also goes by the name of Toby, although this Toby is doubly endowed, four shoes upon his little feet.
So close we all were to escape, almost through the gates of the Animal Farm. Unfortunately, freedom was not to be for young Toby. A bureaucratic two legger pounced upon him and whisked him away before we could even draw breath to protest. Fearing for our own safety and sanity, we quickly scampered away into the shadows of the night, glad to have survived yet another year of the magical madness that is Balkanology.
