Billy O’Mally had had worts since before he could remember. He would do anything, ANYTHING to rid himself of the worts.

An angel comes down for heaven, just moments, mind you, and tells precious Billy his salvation lies in a little mottled green number who goes by the moniker The Green Skipper. To catch this would be legendary.

Billy walks down to some random pond, no big deal. He plunges his hand into it, and out, out like excalibur he pulls The Green Skipper.

In exalted glory, Billy strips down and rubs the tender oils of his prize from head to toe, for indeed, dear pupil, Billy was uuuuugly!