Written by:
Brian Canever
Once upon a time there was a young man. Now, it would not be
forthright to have you reason this was an ordinary lad, but simply one
comprised of the characteristics, and even
idiosyncrasies pertaining to a majestic deity. This man was Yanzek Hestal.
One evening, as the behemoth set out for his customary 25
mile jog through Hudson Woods, Yanzek found himself
set to encounter a challenge never before seen by any man. While jogging
joyfully, his trademark green tights glimmering as bright as a youngster’s
smile on Christmas morning, he decided he would pick up the pace, testing
himself as he often did to show his utter supremacy.
Usually Yanzek trotted at
Just then, while considering all of the possibilities, he
saw something out of the corner of his eye, lingering under the solitary
bridge-crossing in Hudson Woods. It appeared to be a leprechaun,
however its unusual immensity and overall aberrance led the Golden-Curled One
to think otherwise. The being seemed to be tossing an apple in his left
appendage, or what may have been his hand.
Yanzek, his coif strands streaming
down his face like a river of loveliness, felt himself disoriented by the
mutant, and failing to keep his attention, tripped over a pebble, sending him
into a seemingly endless tumble and leading to eventual oblivion.
When Yanzek awoke from his
unpleasant slumber everything appeared different. The sky was now blood red,
the path a gleaming shade of platinum, and everything
else almost entirely out of focus. He used the Coif’s built-in processor to
make sense of the matter, however not even it could decipher the predicament.
The lad then felt a cold wind coming from the rear. He
turned around and saw nothing, but once he gazed downward tears began to fill
his face. His green tights were gone. He searched his pink fanny pack
strenuously, but it was to no avail. Something truly terrible had happened.
As he inspected further, a piece of evidence hinting as to
whom could have possibly taken his most cherished possession came into view. A single piece of toast.
Yanzek was perplexed by the sight,
but he had no time to waste, he needed his green tights, yet he had no idea
where to begin his investigation. So, he set out towards Narrow Path, the
principal avenue of his modest town, when out of nowhere emerged one of Yanzek’s many archrivals: Wolfgang von Schubert.
Wolfgang, the local werewolf, was in that precise moment
devouring the carcass of a man as if it were a piece of delicious Houlihans’ strawberry cheesecake- another of Wolfgang’s
favorites.
When Wolfgang spotted him he snarled, “Wherrr
doo ya tink
yur gooin, curly”, as human
remains dribbled from his snout. Yanzek , without hesitation, immediately responded with a haughty
smirk, “ Oh, youthful brute. So naïve in your dealings.
I warn you, do not fly too close to the sun Icarus,
for you will meet a horrid fate.”
The beast then, slightly bemused, and partially yearning for
a taste of the nimble Yanzek and his pulsating coif,
which he had understandably mistaken for his life source, began to charge,
whilst bellowing, “ It’s supperrr
time girleeman.”
Yanzek, debilitated by the lack of
his elegant tights, had no choice but to fly like an eagle from the grasp of the sloppily haired, and somewhat odorous Wolfgang.
Though he did not reach the height or velocity to which he was accustomed, his
turquoise ballet flats allowed him to gracefully soar through the sky, while
the Coif served as a weapon to repel Wolfgang, as the sordid strands
incessantly struck his werewolf body.
While in the sky, Yanzek began to
realize it would be impossible for him to defeat Wolfgang from above, so he
landed elegantly upon the surface and simply outran the beast. Wolfgang’s
frustration mounted as he fell far behind the gazelle-like Hestal,
and once out of sight Yanzek began to decelerate.
He appeared to have traveled so far a distance that he was
now even more unaware of his surroundings when he had originally awoken. So,
The Golden-Curled lad scraped through the thicket of forest opposite him, the
only distinguishable feature before him which seemed to lead anywhere, and
emerging unkempt and battered he saw…