Taco trundles over from catering, his jowls covered in the remnants of a huge can of creamed corn he finally got open.

He's obviously in a good mood, right up until he sees Felix Jones.


"Onk."


Felix smells a lot like Peter Gilmour. He smells like a guy whose name shouldn't have anything to do with the X-Treme Championship. Taco doesn't like having his appetite messed with.


"Onk onk onk."


With a sudden charge and a swipe of the head, Taco catches Felix by the cuff of his pants with one tusk. Jones is tripped up and lands on his head, allowing Taco to rest his corn-soaked snout on top of him.


"Onk!"


"Onk!!"


...