Harold
sits regally atop a throne of gold and yellow.
“I didn’t
ask for this power…”
As we
examine him we can see he is wearing a colored outfit, similar in hue to that
of his throne. The garb almost looks like that of a cut rate comic book hero;
yellow cape, orange tights, oversized gloves shaped like triangles of pale
yellow.
Harold
snaps his fingers. A small square of yellow-orange appears before Harold’s open
mouth.
“This
blessing…”
Harold
chomps down on the tiny floating brick of cheese, devours it in one bite. He
snaps his fingers again, repeating the process.
“This
curse.”
“They
say with great power comes great responsibility. But even they never knew the
power I now hold, and what it might cost me.” Harold gazes down, taking in the
ridiculous over-sized gloves covering his hands. He scans the back of his hands
in deep contemplation…
*
…In an
alley coated in shadow, two dark figures stand speaking in hushed whispers. It’s
easy to tell from their body language and rushed conversation they’re up to no
good.
But
then an ethereal figure floats down from the sky. For a moment it resembles our
innocent protagonist Harold, but that’s merely a fleeting trick on the eyes.
For we now only see…
“The Prodigious
Cheese Man!” One of the ne’er-do-wells cries out, as he takes off running.
The
other pauses, if only to ask, “If he’s got cheese powers, how does that make
him fly?”
A
booming voice delivers the line that makes villains quiver with an upset
stomach. It is his only response, “Are you fellas lactose intolerant? You will be!”
Both
men are now in full sprint, trying to get to the open street at the end of the
alleyway.
The
Cheese Man’s right hand begins to reshape itself, in a few moments where there
was an abnormally large gloved hand, there’s now a Gatling-gun shaped
appendage.
“No
criminal can escape the Curd Turret!”
Cheese Man declares, as he opens fire on the two men. Round upon round of
creamy, gel-like cheese curds erupt from the barrel that once was a hand. The
substance coats the blacktop, covers the walls of the buildings that form the
alley, and pelts dumpsters- the twangy-thud of them echoing off the metal containers.
The
two men are cut down, covered in a thick layer of cheese curd, so much so that
they struggle to move, but cannot.
Just
then a van skids into view at the mouth of the alley. The side panel is flung
aside, revealing a mounted gun. A man in a black ski mask grins maniacally
behind it.
“Remember,
Cheese-Man; turnabout is fair play!” the masked man cackles into the night,
releasing the lever on the .50 caliber machine gun. This time its metal shell
casings that ring against the pavement instead of the splat of cheese curds.
Cheese-Man
is forced to take evasive action. He dives behind the closest dumpster, knowing
that the gunfire will soon tear through the dumpster’s material. The bullets
fly past, some so close Cheese Man can feel the hot break in the air as they
whiz by.
As the
chaos surrounds him, Cheese-Man closes his eyes to try and think. Its then he
hears the most majestic sound his ears could imagine: a cow mooing into the
night.
Make
no mistake, this is no ordinary moo. It’s fearsome and prolonged, more like the
feral howl of a wolf than anything a bovine creature might produce.
Cheese-Man
opens his eyes, and finds himself staring up at the moon. Superimposed over it
is the shadow of a cow. And lucky for him, it’s not just any cow.
In a
flash, the cow’s silhouette has disappeared from the face of the moon. With a
whoosh the panel van in front of the alley is hit from the rear by what seems
to be a cannon. The vehicle rocks on its frame, causing the masked machine
gunner to fly forward, the machine gun grows still and quiet.
One
of the thugs ensnared within the mound of cheese curds comments, “So the cow
can fly too? I don’t understand any of this.”
“Shut
up you!” Cheese-Man emerges from the alley and is greeted by a green cow,
wearing what appear to be yellow galoshes, and matching goggles.
“Moo the Cow,
ol’ friend!” Cheese-Man attempts to high-five the cow.
The
cow replies with, “Moo.”
“Oh
ya, right.” Cheese-Man lowers his hand realizing his mistake, “Well it’s great
to see you as always. Your timing is impeccable.”
However,
fate’s sense of timing is more macabre.
The
masked man is dizzy as he tumbles from the passenger side of the van. Though
this does not seem to affect the grip he has on the pistol in his hand. He
staggers towards our distracted heroes.
Cheese-Man’s
back is to the masked man, but Moo the Cow sees the villain clearly. “Mooooo!”
the cow pitches Cheese-Man out of the way, as the masked man raises his gun.
Two
shots are fired as Cheese-Man looks on in horror.
*
Again,
we are transported back to Harold, the Cheese-Man that was, and will forever be
sitting atop his throne alone.
“Yes,”
he says to himself solemnly, “great powers indeed…but even with great powers I fall
short of being able to stop a bullet, return the dead to life, or perform
mouth-to-snout resuscitation.”
Cheese-Man
is through grieving. He rises to through the air, clenching his fists in rage.
As he floats there, hovering above the ground he vows, “I will find this masked
man and I will make him pay. I promise you Moo!”
*
In the
background of the room, the two thugs from the alleyway, are still frozen in dry
cheese curd, hardened to the density of stone. One looks to the other, “I still
don’t get how he can fly. I don’t care how cheesy his powers are. They can’t
make you fly?”
His partner
responds, “Oh my God! Shut up already!”
“What?
It’s a legitimate question!”
THE END?
| R.I.P. Moo the Cow 7/17/17-7/17/17 |
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