To get the full story, start with EPISODE 1
‘Sooo…. care for some mustard?’, I said, trying to change the subject.
‘Meh… why not? Hit me up.’
Chomping away at that particularly delicious dog, I suddenly noticed a figure, frantically waving in the distance.
‘Say, who’s that guy?’
‘Probably no one’, he said without granting the direction I was pointing to a mere glance even.
Now, cool people might have you believe they are right even when the facts are firmly wedged against them -and trust me, Bifidus was cool, from his whiskers to her tail – but this guy was very much someone. Mr. Zipman, to be more precise. Oh, yes, *that* Zipman. The man responsible for those durable, convenient and seamlessly concealed zippers on super heroes pants.
What? You thought they just had their underwear over their spandex gear? Talk sense, man! They need zippers for those delicate moments between sessions of heroics.
‘Ok, so what happened, right, was that there was this villain… I forget his name, but I’m quite sure it begins with Z and contains lots of Ks and Rs… so, anyway, he buys up like all the zipper manufacturing plants from wherever ‘cause he’s of course, also very rich, but like… they all are, right? I have a theory, right, like they all have these very rich aunts who die conveniently and leave loads of dough behind in a trust fund and that sort of messes them up so they want to do bad things to people who are not that lucky ‘cause they feel secretly guilty for bein’ rich fucks…’
For some reason, we think that someone who has made a living out of keeping everyone’s pants on would have a certain gravitas. Or, at least, be reassuringly mousy and petit bourgeois. You don’t expect the zipper magnate to sound like the girl at the nail salon. Mr.Zipman though didn’t mind giving the finger to anyone’s expectations.
‘Ok, so where are we going with this, then?’, I murmured, tentatively trying to make sense of it all, while also pushing our new Dijon-mustard-cum-sesame-bun combo at an unbeatable price.
‘Well, the beef is, right… superheroes are still people, see? And most of them are, like, totally shy and self-conscious, and lack the confidence to go around with a loose fly. Which, I can, like, totally understand. Like, tots! Mhmm, love the seeds in this one.’
‘So… why are you telling us all this?’
My hamster companion motioned for me to move away for a few minutes of private oration.
‘Because he wants us to save the day, duh!’, Bifidus went, at this point having clearly lost most of his faith in my ability to understand the world around me.
‘Ah, hello! We’re just a hamster and a dog.’
‘He doesn’t know that.’
‘And besides, it’s a human issue, let them… wait, what?’
‘What d’you mean he doesn’t know that?’
‘Well, it’d been weird if he’d known, judging by how confused he looked about the part of your body he had to address.’
‘Oh, gosh, he wasn’t looking at my balls, was he?’
‘Oh, thank dog…’
‘He was eyeing your tits.’
I looked in the general direction of my chest and there they were…