My wife and I were enjoying a lovely date night. We’d gone out to eat, just seen a movie, and we were ready to go back home, when the forces of wimpiness got in our way.
We both got in the car, I put the key in the ignition and turned. Nothing. Not even a sound. We were miles from home and the car wouldn’t even shudder. We got out of the car and opened the hood, staring at the intricate workings of the vehicle and I knew I was in over my head.
I looked at the situation: a broken car, a date on the line, and a hot babe watching. I turned to my wife (the hot babe) and said, “There’s only one person for this kind of job.”
My wife knew what I mean and nodded. “Call him.”
I took a few steps back so that the shockwaves of awesome wouldn’t hurt her or any of the nearby cars. I raised my left hand, clenched it in a tight fist and cried, “BOW HUNTING!” I raised my right fist in the same way. “CHAINSAW!” Then I put my fists together, high above my head and proudly declared, “SPORTS ILLUSTRATED!”
A lightning bolt struck me from the sky, echoing with the deep laughter of James Earl Jones. I felt my testosterone quadrupling as my muscles bulged and doubled in size. My backbone became thicker and straighter. My legs thickened until they were able to crush a redwood tree. The muscles in my chest bulged until my shirt ripped open and new tufts of hair sprang up over my chest and weaved together to form a tightly-knit, bullet-proof mesh. And the most important thing of all, a thick, light brown beard sprouted into a glorious, long face-mane.
A cowboy hat fell from heaven fell right onto my iron skull. I threw my head back and laughed like the king of the mountains. I had become…MANLY McBEARD!
I stroked my thick field of facial hair as I surveyed the problem, whistling the theme from “Walker, Texas Ranger.” It seemed almost laughable at first! Can’t get where you need to go? Why, I’ll just put my fingers in my mouth and whistle for Pickaxe, my blazing stallion who could carry us home in a single bound!
But no, Manly McBeard uses his brain, as well as his brawn! I would need this car for the times when I’m in my mild-mannered (read: lame) alter-ego. So, I examined the vehicle, calling upon an supernatural knowledge of all things automotive. The car didn’t even make a sound when the key was turned. There had been no problems before hand, so a sudden stop was likely an electrical problem. Hmm, the battery had been changed recently. Better check the connections.
While Manly may have enormous hands, they are remarkably dextrous. I wriggled the positive battery cable and the connection slipped right off! Now, of course, Manly McBeard could have wrenched anything like this loose, having the strength of twenty sex-starved oxen, but since the metal ring wasn’t broken, the screw was merely loose.
“There’s your problem, ma’am!” I said in a basso profundo that the pavement rumble pleasantly. “Why, BOTH of the battery cables are loose and must be tightened! A simple fix!”
“Wow!” My wife said, my swelling waves of electric awesome sending goosebumps along her flesh. “If only we had the tools to fix it!”
I threw my head back and laughed again in a manner that would make bears stand at attention. “Fear not! Manly McBeard is always prepared!” I popped open the trunk with a Fonz-style knock and pulled out a ratchet set. Skilled in all things mechanical, I quickly found the right tools and set to work.
Now, the connection was wobbly, so I needed two hands to hold it down and another to screw in the connection. I could have easily straightened out the connection with a good leer, but I decided to call upon my wife for assistance. She held down the ring while I tightened the screw tight enough to rival a Fort Knox lock. I tipped my hat and thanked my wife (Manly McBeard is a real man, a gentleman) and showed her how to do the negative connection, too.
After all, Manly McBeard is not afraid to empower women!
The work was done and I turned the key to check. Sure enough, the car immediately roared to life, sparking and surging from the manly touch. I put away the ratchet set and stood back to pose in the setting sun and admire my work. My wife jumped up and wrapped her arms around my thick neck and planted a long kiss on her hero’s lips.
“Thank you, Manly McBeard! We couldn’t have done it without you!”
“Nothing to it, little lady!” I said, giving her hand a gentle kiss. “But the time has come to revert to my milder self! Much longer in this form and the parking lot would crumble under the weight of sheer manliness! Until next time!”
I took a deep breath and lifted my hands to the sky. “FINAL FANTASY!” In a flash of lightning and smoke, I reverted to my original self. In a few seconds, the smoke dissipated and all had returned to normal.
My wife and I hopped back in the car and drove away. I looked at my spaghetti arms and sighed in lament. But my wife’s hand on my thigh told me that Manly McBeared would need summoning again when we got home. I straightened up my spine, gave a deep belly laugh, and drove off into the sunset.