The Less Ordinary Life of Harold: Dairy Comics (Featuring "The Prodigious Cheese-Man")

 

            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

 

Play for blood, remember?

There is a lot of junk news out there. And let me be clear, I don’t mean purported “fake news”. I mean- easy to digest, high calorie, low value, fills you up, but still leaves you thirsty-news.

So when a news story catches my eye, it really tends to hold my attention. This very thing occurred when I saw the story of the trio of Portland men that stood up to a man spouting insults to a pair of young women on a train.

It resonated with me for several reasons.

One; because two of the men lost their lives. The tragedy of being a hero, is sometimes you die as one. To Taliesin Myrddin Namkai Meche, and Ricky John Best, I did not know either of you, but I wish peace to you and your families.

Two; I fear this incident, as well as the slayings and injuries that came as a result of it, will discourage people to stand up for others. I pray that it only emboldens people to further rally behind those that do, to make sure that the odds are firmly against the antagonist. To that end, Micah David-Cole Fletcher, I hope that this event does nothing to dissuade you from standing up to the bullies, the bad guys and the blatantly cruel in the future.

Three; I do this kind of thing all the time. It is sobering to see that two men who were on the side of right, paid for that honor with their last breath. You see to me, the greatest honor one can have is to give their life for another. I am not one of those morbid fools that is obsessed with death or dying, but if I have to go out, I’d prefer it be for a worthwhile cause.

Which brings me to my last point...

Four; to anyone that dare utters that these three men acted for nothing, that what they risked, and what two of them ultimately died for was not worth it...I would retort with the firm belief that doing and dying for what’s right is the only thing worth living for.

In closing, I would urge people that when acting in any of these situations always understand that while you may think you are interjecting in a harmless exchange of words, know that things can escalate quickly and turn to violence in a heartbeat. It is not a game, but there is always the potential that you will be playing for blood.

I myself am not an expert in dealing with unstable personalities, or deescalating tense exchanges, so I will not attempt to tell anyone how to handle a similar situation. However, the articles I will leave below do have some useful information. Stand up for others, but be safe doing it.

What should you do if you witness a racist or Islamophobic tirade?

Dealing with Difficult People: 10 Tips for Defusing Toxic Situations

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 1

As the purple light grew stronger, I could make out only a few footprints that remained in the dissipating snow. I had no way of knowing who they belonged to. As Old Rufus and I approached the gate, it reminded me how this was already our second journey.

The first started nearly the same, and not long ago. This creature had been there, nearly from the start. As it would happen, I was lucky to have him by my side.

I looked to him, but Rufus still had his head hunkered low, he was sniffing the ground intently. We were now within a few hundred yards of a weathered door, giant wooden planks sealed by a large metal brace and rivets that looked almost modernistic. Together they formed an ingress as big as the entrance to an airplane hangar.

The door was surrounded on both sides by the perimeter that the gate formed. The gate itself seemed to stretch into infinity in opposite directions. Directly surrounding the entrance, the snow had either been disposed of, or had melted away, as it was nearly non-existent. Tundra grass and dirt were exposed in countless patches and tufts.  Flanking the door small bushes, devoid of leaves, begged to be put out of their misery. To look at them was to know they had been burned. Except for one curious thing, a speckle of green couldn’t hide even behind the scorched bushes. It was a pine bough, fresh enough to still have it’s scent. Preasus?

As soon as I had noticed the pine bough Old Rufus seemed to as well. He darted forward. When he did this, I heard a shout from above. My eyes followed the noise, up and up for seemingly forever. Until I saw a dot of a man perched in a tall turret.

“Restrain the beast. And tell me, what business do you have here?” the voice was steady, and I noticed the man speaking had drawn an arrow from a quiver upon his back. It was primed and rested taught in his bowstring.

“Rufus, come back here.” Old Rufus unconcerned about the archer, lazily returned to my side. “Don’t shoot! Err, don’t fire. My name is...well my name isn’t important. I followed a man here, a umm, a villain!”

The man in the tower hollered, “Keep your sights on him. I’m going to meet him.” Then he disappeared out of sight.

It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to me. My eyes followed his gaze. There was a second turret, again with a platform at its apex, on it was another archer, this one a woman.

“Call reinforcements. Don’t move stranger.” the woman shouted down. Her lip curled in a smile. She seemed to be thrilled to have something to aim at.

“Do you want me to hold up my hands?” I shouted up to the woman.

She shrugged, “If I shoot you, I’m not going to shoot you in the hands.” I pondered this for a moment until I heard a horn sound from within the walls. It was a single long note. The machinery behind the walls groaned and squealed. Moments passed until I heard the mechanisms of the great door being swung open.

When it finally was moved aside four men and another woman greeted me. By greeted, I mean they all gazed at me with dour expressions. I waved, and Old Rufus wagged his tail with minimal effort.

The lot of them had swords, except for the first archer who pushed past the crowd and spoke, “You stated you followed a villain here?”

“That’s right.”

“What did this villain look like?” said a bulldozer of a man with a broadsword at the ready.

“Umm, blonde hair, long, in braids.”

The archer spoke again, “This man is your enemy?”

I don’t know why but I laughed, “You could say that.”

The group narrowed their eyes at me. The female archer, still atop her post yelled, “You want me to shoot him?”

My entire body flinched at the question.

“Not yet.”

“Yet?” I asked.

The archer spoke, “The man with the braids was caught in front of our walls a short time before daybreak. He was covering his footprints with a branch. Sort of the behavior that inhabitants behind the wall might find suspicious. Don’t you agree?”

I nodded.

“Much like the fact that another stranger shows up just after we’ve locked him up. Again, odd don’t you agree?”

“Wait a second,” I raised my hands, begging off.

“Shoot him.” the archer commanded.

Before I could argue any further a white light lit up my right temple, and my vision went black. The last thing I heard before I fell to the ground was, “Get the dog.”


TO BE CONTINUED!

Window Shopping : Kingdom Without a King- Prologue

The wind was cruel, it attacked me from all sides. Likewise, the snow crept higher along the sides of my borrowed boots, the same time as it crunched beneath them. The snow was no longer falling, but from the looks of things, it had came quickly and heavily, not much earlier. The temperature was crisp, cold, and well below freezing. Although, unthinkable, I ignored the elements.

Although, I had been doing the unthinkable for at least the past twenty four hours. I had befriended an otherworldly dog/wolf hybrid. I met some very interesting people who I learned nothing about despite being interrogated by them for hours. I was kidnapped. I stole a dead man’s boots. Oh, and that reminds me, I am at least partially involved in a murder perpetrated by the aforementioned dog/wolf thing. And in most unbelievable fashion, I had transversed dimensions, or worlds, or something.

To be fair, I didn’t really know what I had been doing. It was entirely possible that I may very well be passed out in my basement after drinking too much. But it all felt so real. I guess that’s what all the nutcases say.

Anyway, despite all of that I still felt compelled to leap through yet another window. This was to go after a guy that is nearly twice my size, and seems to be well versed in the art of getting what he wants from people, by any means necessary. Oh, and he has way better hair than me, it’s kinda long, wavy blonde, with these cool braids…

...But I digress. And that’s not why I followed him. If I’m being honest, and I think I am, its because I’m bored. And leaping through interdimensional windows (or whatever these things are) beats real life. I mean at least until wake up from this dream world it will at least provide a distraction.

Next to me, trudging through the same snow was Old Rufus. He was hard to see due to the absence of light. Yet the faint lupine shape seemed to be blacker than the darkness that surrounded. We both scanned a horizon that was barely discernable. The difference with Rufus was that occasionally he would glance at me, his eyes piercing the night. They seemed confident, like he knew where he was going, which was more than I could say for myself. I imagined his line of sight radiating out before us, as though his field of vision were casting high beams. It made me feel better about the journey, and was a way to distract from the cold. Inside another part of my head, the fanciful gave way to the analytical.

Is this pup following Praesus’s scent? We should be seeing footprints right? Wherever this guy Praesus was headed he should be only a minute or three ahead of us, and leaving behind a trail through the snow. Right? Was he supernatural? This thought made my stomach twist in a quick, but lurching knot.

I left these thoughts and returned to the real world. To our right was a faint light in the distance. It peeked in a hazy dark purple that broke against the blackness. But the shape was not reminiscent of a moon, or sun. It was a slash, one that cut a jagged swath across the flesh of the sky. As my eyes adjusted to the new, yet weak light, my brain also adjusted to take in what I was seeing.

Ahead of us was an outline, barely visible thanks to the strange new light in the sky. I had read enough fairytales as a child to know that the silhouette before me was that of a castle. Old Rufus turned to me and grinned in that panting smile that canines have. He then faced forward, lowering his head, hardening himself for the rest of the journey. His body language seemed to hint that once we arrived at said castle our work would just be beginning.  

Will You Pretend to be my Boyfriend?

           “Hey, hi… are you here alone?”

            I looked up from my phone to see a brunette woman in her mid-twenties looking a bit nervous and awkward. She was standing in front of me with a cell and what looked to be a charger at first glance.

            I thought, Clearly, I must be using the weight machine nearest to a wall outlet. This girl needed to get around me in order to have unfettered access to Instagram or something.

            “Umm, ya, I’m sorry I’ll move…” I made an effort to stand and collect my water and keys that I threw on the floor next to me.

            “No, no, you don’t understand,” she reassured me.

            “Oh, wait I see,” I suddenly knew what this young dame was up to, “I’m very flattered, but I’m sorry I have a girlfriend.” I sat back down on the machine, thinking our brief conversation was finished. I also noticed what I had thought was a charger cord, were actually headphones.

            “No it’s not that either,” she said, quickly glancing over her shoulder and looking around. “There’s this really creepy guy…”

            Of course there is, I thought, you’re talking to him.

            “And he’s following me around, and he’s freaking me out, and umm, sorry I don’t know how to say this; would you be my boyfriend for a few minutes?”

            Oh no, wait, that’s not me after all.

            “Ah what? I’m sorry; it sounded like you just asked me to be your boyfriend?”

            She seemed embarrassed, “Yes, just to get him off my back?”

            I scanned her eyes wondering if I would be able to discern what she really had in mind. Was it some form of covert espionage? Was I in a reality show?

            It was difficult to tell what her angle was, but I am always up to playing the hero, even if it’s only in a small way, so how could I say ‘No’? Plus, compared to the monotony of my regular arms day at the gym, it was a no-brainer. Besides, she had kind, truthful eyes that helped to lower my guard.“Umm, sure. What are you planning on doing?”

            She said sweetly, “I was going to run over there on the treadmill,” then her voice soured, “But he’s kinda lurking around.”

            I thought at the moment that I didn’t know which was weirder, the unknown male seemingly stalking a stranger at the gym, or her having to ask a complete stranger for protection from the aforementioned pervert. Later, my girlfriend would assure me that the pervert’s behavior was definitely the worse of the two.

            For now, I looked at the young lady and said, “Ok, I need to do a bit of cardio anyway, I’ll follow you over there and run next to you.”

            “Oh my gosh, thank you so much!” her smile was genuine, I returned it.

            As I got up to follow my new “girlfriend” I noticed a young man at the machine next to me. His eyes were wide in astonishment. The look on his face seemed to say that he had seen sitcoms start out this way, and he seemed oddly envious that he wasn’t chosen to be the protector. I wanted to give him a gentle explanation of why it was me she picked. While he watched us walk away, I turned back to him, and pointed down at my t-shirt.

            A little baby Bruce Wayne was decked out in his little baby Batman suit. I mouthed, ‘I’m Batman’ as I walked away.

            I followed the young lady to a treadmill of her choosing, taking up residence on one next to her. Curiosity then got the better of me, “Okay I have to ask, can we see him from where we’re standing?”

            She nodded, “He’s to the left.”

            Idiotically, I looked to our right. She giggled; I blushed, and corrected my view. Upon doing so, I saw a skinny man in his mid-fifties with short cropped white hair. He had on a sweat suit; the top was cut off at the arms. He looked like either a 1970’s gym teacher, or a 1980’s gym rat. Also, I had to agree with the young lady, he definitely had the creepy look down pat.

            “Yesterday when I was here he was trying to show me lifting tips, and then when he was done he declared that he ‘liked me’ before getting all oddball and slinking off in a corner to leer at me until I was done.”

            My face showed my repulsion, “Who doesn’t love getting unsolicited workout advice and then being gawked at?”

            “Ya?” she laughed, “You try it with someone that looks like that.”

            “I see your point.”

            The treadmills whirred to life, and we were off without going anywhere. Although he didn’t immediately leave upon seeing the two of us begin our run, it only took a few minutes for him to exit the gym completely.

            I did a short run, but before hopping from the treadmill I told the young lady, “If he comes back, come and find me, I’ll be doing arms for a while yet.” She smiled and nodded.

            Feeling that I had done a good deed, even if it was something that would go unnoticed by the world as a whole, I returned to my normal routine.

            About twenty minutes passed when the girl interrupted my workout again. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks before I left.”

            “Ah, no problem, glad I could help.”

            She smiled and waved goodbye. I never got her name, nor her mine. In fact we barely spoke at all. As she left I let myself indulge in thought, A silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.

            I shook my head at my own foolishness, Back on the clock David, you’ve still got a workout to finish dork.