I am a grizzly in captivity. I burn with resentment. Each day I am stared at by dopey tourists who make dumb remarks to each other and photograph me. I would like to destroy each one of them in a ruthless and bloody manner. But these offences are minor next to the one abiding passion of my life, which is to get out of this cage, find Clinton Hammond, and wipe him off the face of the Earth! Yes, Clinton Hammond. He had the nerve, the absolute gall, to remark to a female companion, upon seeing me one day..."Now there's an ugly face. Nature at its worst. Living proof that there is no God." What a jerk! When I get out of this cage...and I will...I am going to track down Clinton Hammond. I have heard that he murders skunks. I have heard that he denies the existence of the Supreme Being. Well, he is going to call on the Supreme Being when he sees Alaska Pete come through the swinging doors at his last gig, but it won't do him any good! No sir. He will become the first folksinger to end a live performance in the jaws of the grizzly!!! I can hardly wait. I'm gonna eat his guitar too, just for spite.