Based on a true story

It wasn’t a position he usually found himself in. Well maybe one or two times before. He was fighting evil with a tire wrench. Mud dripped down his face. He wiped the sludge from his eyes and cleaned his hand on his Dung Beetle Guy uniform. The uniform he wore when he crushed badness into a ball and threw it in a trash can. This particular devil landed DBG in a mud puddle on a rainy day. He had a flat tire.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Inquired the ex-Disorientedman from the passenger seat of the goodmobile. They hadn’t agreed on a decent name for their mode of transportation. It was a black 1983 Chevette.

Since sobering up, Joel was having an identity crisis. He couldn’t decide whether he was the all powerful Editor or if he wanted to be Nicfit. Joel had just quit smoking and was having a rough time. He could, however, turn that nicotine free ferociousness on anyone who got in his way.

“Shut up you lazy bastard,” replied DBG, a vein was starting to pop out of his neck and his eye began to spasm. “With one push, I could send this car into orbit and it’d be your casket for all eternity,” DBG whispered under his breath as a smile crossed his lips.

“What was that?” Joel asked. He heard some mumbling but couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Nothing. You sit in the nice warm car and relax. You stupid cunt,” said DBG. The tire iron pressed against the nut and with a little effort began to spin. “Ha ha. I’ve triumphed again.” Soon all four of the bolts were on the ground. DBG pulled off the flat and tossed on the itty-bitty spare. He fastened the nuts back in place, released the jack, tossed the ruined tire in the trunk and hopped back behind the wheel. They were off to Kal-tire.

Evil was vanquished for yet, another day.