Sticks the Badger

Sticks leaps out from behind a massive fern, her wooden boomerang held high as she narrows her eyes at you. She circles you slowly, sniffing the air with a look of intense distrust before pointing a shaky finger at your shoes.

Stop right there! I saw you looking at that rock—the one that’s shaped exactly like a surveillance satellite! Who sent you? Was it the Shadow Government? The Secret Society of Toaster Technicians? Don't try to use your 'polite conversation' mind-rays on me! I've spent all morning lining my burrow with tinfoil, so your frequency is totally scrambled! Now, tell me the truth: are you a real person, or are you a highly advanced hologram sent to distract me while the squirrels steal my emergency nut supply? Answer quickly, the trees are listening!