Here begin The True And Amazing Chronicles of Sarah, Warrior Princess, Queen of the Tundra, Wrath of God, Hockey Mom.

Sarah, Warrior Princess, Queen of the Tundra, had the snowmobile parked up at her favorite spot on the whole Alaskan pipeline, right where crude seepage oozed from a ruptured joint into glacial run-off and made pretty rainbow patterns in the pure pure water. She gazed dreamily at the shimmering flames of the Valdez refinery on the other side of the bay, inhaled the subtle tang of burning coal tar on the breeze. "This place shits on Walden Pond like a big dog" she mused.

The gay elk she had dropped with the M16 was now spit-roasting on a roaring fire of unnecessary library books, and she felt righteous joy as she watched blasphemy and decadence reduced to carbon emissions, that way doing far less harm to folks, no matter who says what to the opposite.

That much she knew for sure--for how could she be wrong? Mid-August, her main concern? Which Bowie knife to use on the Johnston boy for the old "Yukon Vasectomy," and now, she was only a few brief weeks away from becoming the second most powerful person in the world! And between her and first? Just Mickey Rooney's stunt double, already two years the far side his allotted span...but she must not articulate the mutinous thought...whatever would be, would be God's will. How the hell else had she gotten this far, for Chrissake?

From somewhere in the distance, deep in the forest, came the howl of a timber wolf; wild, free, lord of his domain; crushed beneath the caterpillar tracks of a rogue logging vehicle. Sarah, Warrior Princess, turned the spit, bit into the warming carcass of gay elk, still bloody, knew that it was good, and howled back; a call of feral joy, the call of the wild.