Be Prepared Hoodwinked Song ◉ [Genuine]

He smiled, sharpened his pencil, and waited.

The raccoons exchanged nervous glances. The weasel whispered, “But who’s the target?” be prepared hoodwinked song

Flick scribbled: “Big score. Possibly delusional.” He smiled, sharpened his pencil, and waited

Vernon pointed a claw toward the distant clock tower of the woodland town. “The Schnitzelhausen Annual Baking Competition is tomorrow. First prize: a solid gold rolling pin and enough cash to buy our own mountain. But here’s the thing—we don’t bake. We steal .” Possibly delusional

Flick raised a tiny paw. “Um. Question. Have you met Red? She’s like… a ninja in a hoodie. She outran a pack of wolves last spring. On roller skates.”

But for now, under the bridge, the gang sang their song, off-key but full of hope. And Flick, the squirrel who kept the records, wrote one final note:

Flick sighed, tucked his pencil behind his ear, and climbed higher into the tree. He’d seen this before. Vernon was a dreamer. And dreams, in this forest, had a way of running headfirst into reality—usually in the form of a little girl with a red hood, a grandmother with a black belt in judo, and a singing goat who just happened to be passing by.