Sometimes, suburban life isn't as cracked up as it's meant to be. For example, it may look pretty from a distance, but then you realize pretty much everything is the same, and it only takes so long before you can see every house look the 's also no such thing as public transportation, so pretty much getting anywhere without a car is next to impossible. Adding onto that, not having a car means unless you get friends, you'll be stuck at home watching TV or doing something monotonous.

That's not even to mention the Homeowner's association. Keeping up with every single rule from them, and being fined over it if even the smallest thing is off? There's a reason why people hate them, even the people who don't live in them.

Oh yeah, there's also the vermin.

Usually, Camelot Estates was a pretty quiet place save for the occasional shriek from the head of the Homeowner's Association about the grass not being two meters. However, today was no ordinary day. It wasn't because the head didn't find something to complain about, no chance.

No. Today was Heist Day.

The way it could be told was by the wagon of food soaring down the street, propelled by two canisters of propane. Back then, it was obviously uncommon to see this, but now it was a sign that the vermin were up to their tricks again. The way it could be told it was them? They were riding the wagon. At the front of the wagon were the two sort of ringleaders of the heist, RJ the Raccoon, and Verne the Turtle.

They were also screaming.

"Why did we do this again?!"

"Rule number one of heisting Verne, always make a grand getaway!"

If it wasn't obvious by now, the vermin had just stolen a wagon full of food, and now were on their way back to their home. Not only that, the two of them were not alone on the wagon. As the wagon started to make its way towards a turn, RJ turned to a dark figure with white stripes, clearly a skunk.

"Stella, mailbox at three o'clock!"

"On it!" Stella called out, holding out a small cane and managing to hook it around the post of a white mailbox. Thankfully, the wagon would spin around the post, sending it flying down the street. On the other hand however, the power of the wagon was so great it managed to rip the mailbox, and bring it with them.

"Hey, if they don't know they have fines, it won't hurt them." RJ would quickly reply, before noticing that they were now barreling down a dead end.

"Oh no! Dead end! Cul-De-Sac!" RJ exclaimed.

"Cul-De-what?" Stella asked.

"I'll explain later! Hammy, drink!"

The Hammy RJ was talking to was a squirrel with half a cookie hanging out of his mouth, who quickly downed an energy drink as the wagon was starting to approach a SUV. As it approached, the gang braced for impact…

Only to suddenly start flying off a ramp and into a small trampoline stationed on a tree. Once more, Hammy came in clutch with his speed, and of course, ever since that one incident, it's been pretty much the gang's ace in the hole.

As they flew in the direction of their home, there was just one thing they had to perfect.

Their landing.

The first thing RJ saw was a familiar face looking over him with a sort of smirk on their face. "Nice landing, Johnny Knoxville." The face spoke, and RJ would immediately recognize that voice belonging to Heather. "What, not Evel Knievel?" RJ asked.

"Evel Knievel usually lands his stunts." Heather replied. "What, and Johnny Knoxville doesn't?"

"The only thing he lands on is his nuts, now come on." Heather spoke, reaching a paw out and helping RJ off the ground, and it would allow him to see what carnage he and the others had brought into their little home. Stella was dripping wet, so she likely was thrown during the impact into the pond. Hammy was stuck in a tree, likely coming down from the energy drink high. The only question remaining was the location of Verne, but he was sure he'd show up. He had to check however, and upon noticing the others starting to move the loot, the raccoon decided to get some answers.

"Well, we're back, and we're not a terrible reboot."

"Huh?" A voice called out, and this would belong to Heather's dad, Ozzie.

"Just a little reference Ozz-man." RJ spoke. "You guys okay?"

"We're okay, thankfully no one was injured."

"Not even dead, or even playing dead?" RJ asked.

"Not a single bit." Ozzie replied. "Oh no, he most certainly played dead." Heather spoke up, resulting in Ozzie's ears lowering a bit. "Heather, it's what we do best." Ozzie replied. "Yeah, and we barely got you out of the way of being wagon-kill."

"Anyways, have you seen Verne anywhere?" RJ asked. This time, a new voice answered, this time belonging to Penny.

"Oh yes, he's walking around, looks like he's been through a near death experience." She replied. "That's cuz' he has." Stella spoke up, joining the group now wrapped up in what appeared to be a dishrag of some sort. Ironically enough, it had a floral pattern on it. "Man, we gotta stop doing stunts that nearly kill us on a daily basis."

"Hey, it's cool at least." RJ replied, before heading over to the canisters, which were thankfully no longer active, and placed a single paw on it. "And these, saved our bacon today, you can't deny that."

"Yeah, but once more, we committed several thousand dollars' worth of property damage just to eat." The familiar voice of the neurotic turtle called out. Looks like Penny was right, he was okay. Yeah, he looked like he had seen death several times over, but at least his shell wasn't cracked in the very least. That thing was made of pure iron, RJ thought. "Hey, at least it's only a mailbox this time, that's probably our newest record." He spoke.

"Do you even know how much it costs to replace a mailbox?" Verne asked. RJ would look back at one of the other members of the Hedgies, who had now joined the group. "Hey, Lou, do you have the phone on you?" RJ asked. "Yeah, I got it, whaddya need?" The male porcupine asked.

"How much does it cost to replace a mailbox? I want to see if we broke our record today." RJ spoke. "Ah, so that explains the decoration you brought back." Lou spoke. It was then that RJ's eyes gazed over to the log, only to see that the mailbox post was sticking out of the top of the log, almost like it was the mast on a pirate ship.

"I mean…I guess it's nice to decorate the log." RJ said. "Even though that's not where I'd put it."

"And where precisely would you put it?" Verne asked. "Uh…" RJ paused for a moment. "I actually don't know, but enough getting sidetracked, Lou, how much would it cost?" Lou, who had managed to procure the cell phone from complete nowhere and had finally typed it in, would answer.

"Around a hundred bucks."

"Alright, new record for least amount of property damage!" RJ exclaimed, before looking over at Heather. "Write that down, a hundred bucks, new record!"

"We don't have a whiteboard."

"Okay, piece of paper, like a notebook, that sort of thing?" RJ asked. "Yeah, should be one over by the log, I'll write it down!" Heather replied, before scurrying off to grab the notebook.

In the meantime, RJ turned his attention to Lou, who was now looking over the wagon that had been completely cleared out of their haul. If there was one thing RJ wasn't going to worry about, it was the wagon. That wagon had been with them through thick and thin, with various stunts failing to destroy it.

"Hey Lou, how's the damage?" He asked.

"Well, there's no handle anymore." Lou replied.

"Don't worry, we can grab onto other things, anything else?"

"Uh…we have a missing wheel." Lou continued.

"Bit of a steering problem we'll have to fix eventually, but three wheels is more than enough."

"The wagon just disintegrated."

"We can-what?"

RJ had to do a double take at that revelation. He had been gleefully not paying attention to the wagon, instead looking back at the log to see when Heather was getting back with that notebook, and upon hearing that, he turned his head to see what Lou was talking about.

Sure enough, Lou was right. The wagon had pretty much disintegrated with an almost comical puff. The bright, shiny red wagon was now replaced with a powder of sorts that looked almost pathetic.

"Hey, RJ, I got the notebook, how much was it again?" Heather spoke up, holding a bright red notebook. Just their luck.

"Heather, I think we may need to hold off on that for now."

Yup, we're already back.

So, essentially what I'm doing is sort of creating a season of sorts, which will result in a sort of canon.

This story is canonically the first in the season, or debut episode.

Anyways, I'll see you soon!