Faster than a ’92 Honda Civic, more powerful than a diesel powered dump truck, able to leap the curb while making a turn, it’s . . . Mr. Speed!
Today’s episode: Death by Garbage
Our scene opens with Mr. Speed on his way to meet his super friends at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire for a day of fun and frolic. As he drives happily along in his mother’s 1999 Buick Century with working air conditioning and V6 engine, his mind is wandering to other of life’s problems.
“What do fish think about all day?” Mr. Speed asked himself thoughtfully. “How many times can I legally dream about Megan Fox before it’s considered stalking?” he wondered as he drove past the York County Landfill on
In the middle of his reverie Mr. Speed was suddenly jolted by flashing lights. Was it the aliens again, come back to finish their experiments? Had a disco opened in that empty field? Was it the opening of another Verizon store that no one would ever see anyone go into and yet it would somehow stay in business?
No! It was Mr. Speed’s sworn enemy, The Policeman from the planet
“So, we meet face to face for the first time Mr. Speed,” The Policeman snickered, his voice as thick as olive oil and as nasally as Celine Dion’s awful singing. There was a long pause and then The Policeman leaned in with a sinister sneer, “Do you have license, registration and proof of insurance, and I hope the answer is no!” Mr. Speed thwarted the attack by peacefully handing his documentation to The Policeman. He growled with disapproval, snatching the papers from his hand. Mr. Speed smiled.
“Do you know why I have pulled you over?” The Policeman asked.
“Because you’re an interplanetary madman bent on human destruction and I am the one person that can stop your evil reign of terror against the innocent people of Earth.”
“You were . . . SPEEDING! Muahahahahahahahaha!”
Drat! Mr. Speed had thought that his atomic powered muon transference accelerator had blocked his true speed from land-based radar, but The Policeman had detected the extra velocity. He continued laughing as he went back to his patrol car, each chortle a slap to Mr. Speed’s already red face.
He knew The Policeman’s plan must be to give him a huge ticket, draining his bank account. Mr. Speed had to do something. Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on the ticket The Policeman was writing. In his mind he saw the pen as it pressed down on the pad. It was writing down his address and phone number. Then it detailed his offense. Mr. Speed waited and when his mind’s eye saw the pen writing in the amount of the fine he sent a telepathic message for it to be the minimum. The pen shook in the Policeman’s hand, wanting to write down an absurdly large number. Mr. Speed drained himself of all his energy to force The Policeman to write the ticket for 45 in a 40 instead of charging him with his actual speed of Mach 3.
Mr. Speed collapsed back in his seat, sweating profusely. He saw the patrol car door open and The Policeman stride angrily toward him. The ticket was thrown at Mr. Speed’s face.
“I don’t know how you did it, but you ruined my plans Mr. Speed.”
“That’s because I fight on the side of good and not evil.”
“Whatever. Pay the fine in 10 days or I’ll swear out a galactic warrant on you and the Scarlax of Negron 5 will swallow you and divide you up between its 6 stomachs.”
The Policeman got in his patrol car and drove off. Mr. Speed sat in his mother’s car swearing softly to himself before continuing on his journey to the Renaissance Faire. The sun came out and it was a beautiful day. Until the torrential rain came.