The concept of 'Arts and Crafts' was a foreign one to Exile. Though he was used to being humanoid, art had never really entered into his experience as a Road Rover. But he went along anyway, allowing himself to be sat down by his nurse and presented with construction paper. He frowned at it. What was he supposed to do with this? Write on it?

"Comrade Nurse," he said, "is there a special thing I am supposed to be doing with this paper?"

She smiled indulgently at him. "Whatever you like, Mr. Ovechkin. Be creative!"

"In such case, I need scissors."

"Please be careful with them, Mr. Ovechkin," she said, and handed him some kiddy safety scissors.

"Da, thank you," he said distractedly, and began to cut the paper into no particular shape. He was really interested in the scissors, though, and when she was far enough away, he glared at the blades, trying to use his heat vision. Nothing happened. "Bolshoi."

[for a certain Scarecrow!]