Dr.Hilda Hindenburg grabbed her pack and straightened the ever crooked goggles that she wore on her forehead. Looking to the sky she saw their ships...their big hairy ships which brought forth suppressed frustration and anger. It was more than she could handle really and she was inwardly panicking like never before. Mad eyes darted in different directions as she tried to think of something to do.<br/><br/>With a can of DDT in her hand and a sharpened broom handle in the other she raced down the suburban streets, constantly looking out for a flea attack. If anyone had been close enough they would have heard her mumbled words. "Get to shoppin's, make a weapon. Get to shoppin's, make a weapon." over and over those words rolled about her mind as she dodged a swerving car.<br/><br/>Screaming suddenly she jumped back as a flea leapt into her path. Shaking she looked to her make-shift defences and sprayed the bug, lunging at it with the broom handle. Covered in pink she did an odd dance of triumph  and disgust before spraying it a little more and discarding the can. Jumping past the now dead flea she carried on down the road, ignoring the looks received from those she passed. Yes, she'd finally left her house, and yes, she couldn't probably do with a hair-cut. But right now she was a little busy trying to not get killed and pretend like she knew what she was doing.