The Killer himself and head clown in charge of all Kalamities and Katastrophes, bringing the heavy sound of laboured breathing to every street corner and Wal-Mart bathroom stall. Krippled as a kid and left without hands or face, the kind people of the Monroe royal family stuck him up like a pincushion with lots of knice knives and anabolik steroids. Now he's a menace, a menage of mischief, mayhem and all-round hilarity. Doesn't matter if you don't think he's funny, kause Koyote always gets the Killing Joke.
Bird brain isn't insane, he's just had a little too much of the Kool-Aid to drink and can't really remember how he got here. No matter, he takes his orders from the King's throne and wont get his feathers ruffled if that means splitting some skulls. His interests include high-caliber pistols, late-night flights and not getting impaled on Coyote's arms.
Georgie-porgie pudding and pie, they cut off his face but he didn't die.
King Monroe, all hail the regent
RAT PACK, the wackiest lackiest bunch of losers you can find under a manhole cover.
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