, a short skirt, and no sleeves she looked like something out of The Rocky Horror Picture show. She was, however, wearing a mask so Maxwell couldn’t identify her. (Why Rocky Horror? We don’ t know).
The world is filled with make-believe superheros, but never has it seen a real superhero. Without the strength of Superman, nor the technology of Batman, this new superhero must struggle for acceptance through this time of disbelief. His lack of any spectacular powers leaves him helpless against the mockery of others. Somehow through all of this he manages to survive this harsh world and protect it from the evil that lies within.
Maxwell Maximus was your average college student in your average college town. Well, almost average. There was one main difference between Maxwell and his fellow students. Maxwell had the ability to talk to squirrels. He never talked about it to anybody; in fact he very much kept it a secret. Maxwell knew that if his secret got out he would be tormented about it for the rest of his college life.
Maxwell was very fond of squirrels and his ability to talk to them only strengthened his love for them. With the amazingly large number of squirrels on the University of Oregon campus, Maxwell felt right at home. The campus consisted of around 17,000 students and 25,000 squirrels.
A side effect of his affinity towards squirrels was his love of the environment. His obvious choice of major was Environmental Science. A few of his friends teased him about this; actually, all of his friends teased him about it, all but Doug anyway. Doug, the Political Science/Economics major, simply shook his head and said, “I know how you feel.”
All-in-all they were still a good group of friends. They all lived in the same hall so they were together a lot. This, unfortunately, took away some of Maxwell’s time with the squirrels, but he didn’t mind too much. He enjoyed his midnight strolls around the campus talking to his squirrel friends. Thing were going great for the nineteen year old sophomore, that is until, the squirrels started dying.
Maxwell didn’t notice at first, the squirrels were very efficient at taking care of their dead. It wasn’t until the messenger came that Maxwell knew something was wrong.
“Maxwell! Maxwell! We need your help.” A brown squirrel came running up to Maxwell while he was on his midnight stroll.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Maxwell asked his squirrel friend.
“All of our friends are dying and we don’t know why.”
“Where are they all dying?” The news of the dying squirrels hit Maxwell hard. Tears welled up in his eyes as the little squirrel continued to convey the message.
“By the funny trees, the ones where people put stuff.”
Maxwell frowned in confusion. “Funny trees? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come, follow me, I will take you there.” Maxwell followed the squirrel to the location where the squirrels were dying. As he got closer he could see a figure standing next to a group of signboards. The figure was busy doing something to the board.
Upon sight of the figure Maxwell jumped behind some bushes and had to stifle an exclamation of pain, as he had not realized that the bush had thorns.
“That is where the death trap is,” the squirrel messenger said motioning toward the spot where the figure was standing.
“All right,” Maxwell whispered, “I’ll take care of this.” As nonchalantly as he could, Maxwell stood up out of the bushes and began walking toward the figure.
The closer Maxwell go to the figure the more he realized that this was not your normal everyday poster-chick. Clad in Zechs boots (see picture), a short skirt, and no sleeves she looked like something out of The Rocky Horror Picture show. She was, however, wearing a mask so Maxwell couldn’t identify her. (Why Rocky Horror? We don’ t know).
“Excuse me,” Maxwell said as he approached her. “May I inquire as to what you are doing?” The figure stopped what she was doing and slowly turned her head to look at Maxwell. Her face was masked but he could see the malice in her eyes (he thought it was malice, but it could just as easily have been a “what the hell do you want” look). As she turned to face him completely Maxwell caught a glint of something falling to the ground.
The “what the hell do you want look” turned into the “I’m extremely annoyed” look. “I’m removing these staples,” the masked (and scantily clad) figure said, blinking at Maxwell in annoyance. “I’m the 11:52 Staple Remover, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me while I’m working.” A few more staples dropped from what Maxwell now assumed to be a staple remover in her hand.
“11:52? Wouldn’t it be easier to pick a round number like midnight?”
“Well I started at 11:52 so I just figured that I should be the 11:52 Staple Remover.”
“You know it’s midnight right now, why not be the Midnight Staple Remover?”
“You know, that has a nice ring to it. From now on I can be . . . The Midnight Staple Remover.” (Points finger with anime style swirls on it at non-existent camera, then giggles like an idiot).
“That’s great, uh . . . Miss Staple Remover but could I ask you to do me a favor?”
“Favor? What kind of favor?” The Midnight Staple Remover asked, eyebrow raised.
“Well, you see those staples you’re removing are killing the squirrels, so could you possibly be so kind as to stop removing them?”
“Stop removing staples?!” The Midnight Staple Remover looked stricken, “But . . . I have to remove the staples . . . but I don’t want to hurt the squirrels . . . remove staples . . . cute squirrels . . . staples. I can’t stop removing the staples. The Midnight Staple Remover will not stop removing staples, not even for cute, cuddly, little, poor squirrels.”
“All right, if you won’t stop removing staples, I shall force you to stop removing them.” Maxwell took up a karate type stance (the kind you find in movies) in preparation to fight the Midnight Staple Remover. The Midnight Staple looked taken aback, her eyes watered slightly. She put on the most innocent face Maxwell had ever seen and said, “You wouldn’t hurt a little girl like me would you?”
Maxwell was caught by surprise at her reaction. Relaxing his stance he said, “Well, no I couldn’t hit . . .” SCHMACK!!! Maxwell found himself lying face down, on the ground, with the impression of the back of a boot heel in his face. Maxwell slowly rolled over onto his back, dumbfounded as to what just happened. The Midnight Staple Remover stood triumphantly over him. “Good, then you won’t mind if I continue removing staples will you?”
“You know I can see up your skirt?”
The Midnight Staple Remover put her foot on Maxwell’s chest. “Look at what I’m wearing. Do you think I care?” She moved her foot closer to Maxwell’s neck and leaned closer to him. “Now you listen here Squirrel boy, those staples need to be removed and I’m going to remove them. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” The Midnight Staple Remover removed her boot from Maxwell’s neck, returned to the signboards, and began removing staples again.
Maxwell continued to lie on the ground in fear of what she would do next. The squirrel messenger, who had seen the whole ordeal, ran up to Maxwell and said, “Maxwell, please stop her. We will continue to die if you don’t. Those things stab us when we walk by, they hurt us.”
“But there’s nothing I can do. She’s too powerful,” Maxwell whimpered.
“Come, I will take you to the Shaman, he will know what to do.” Maxwell followed the little grey squirrel to the location of the Shaman, which happened to be near the cemetery. (Yes there is a cemetery on campus, or rather near campus, but it’s practically on campus so we’ll say that it is on campus for the purposes of this segment). The Shaman looked very old. His grey fur was wrinkled and he had a look of wisdom about his . . . um . . . face. “Now this is an old squirrel,” Maxwell thought.
“Maxwell Maximus,” the Shaman said, “I have been waiting for you.”
“Great squirrel Shaman please help me. I must help the squirrels, but I am defenseless against the Midnight Staple Remover. She’s too strong for me, but there’s something I don’t quite understand. How are the staples killing the squirrels? Can’t you just avoid the area?” Maxwell asked.
“That area in the bushes near those funny looking trees that yield no nuts is a very strategic area to us grey squirrels. It is a stronghold for us and we must keep it, we cannot allow the brown squirrels to take it,” the squirrel Shaman said.
“Strategic area? Why is it a strategic area?” Maxwell asked, concerned with what he was hearing.
“There is a great war going on between us grey squirrels and the brown squirrels. However, you should not concern yourself with that right now. What should concern you is that we are dying through no fault of our own . . .”
“Hold on just one minute!” Maxwell exclaimed, “Excuse me for being rude Shaman, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m not going to defeat the Midnight Staple Remover and clear the area of staples just so that you can kill each other.”
“Ah, but you see Maxwell, us grey squirrels are not the only ones dying. Because that stronghold is so important it has changed sides many times. The area is constantly being invaded and those staples are like land mines to us. They stab through our feet and we lose our ability to climb trees and get food. We die of from bleeding to death and starvation. It is not a pleasant way to die. Help us Maxwell Maximus, you’re our only hope.”
“Well since I can’t stand to see squirrels die I guess I’ll help you . . .”
“Shaman!” Maxwell was interrupted by a grey squirrel that limped towards them with the help of two others. It was the most horrifying sight Maxwell had ever seen. The squirrel’s feet were cut and bleeding and he was having a hard time walking. One of his eyes had even been gruesomely gouged out, most likely from falling on a staple. “We need help Shaman . . . the problem . . . is . . . getting worse . . . There . . . are . . . too . . . many . . .” The little squirrel stopped there as he fell to the ground, dead.
Maxwell leaned over the little squirrel. He picked it up and examined it in his hands. He suddenly realized that there were tears in his eyes. With a frightful scream he realized the anguish in his heart over the dead squirrel. It was then that he realized that he had to help, no matter the cost. He turned to the Shaman and asked, “Shaman, what must I do to defeat the Midnight Staple Remover?”
“You must make a new identity for yourself. We squirrels cannot be associated with a mere human being. When you have found your new identity, I will give you what you need,” The Shaman replied.
“Thank you Shaman, I will do as you have said.” With that Maxwell bowed humbly before the Shaman and left.