MM E:III *****

As the bell rang its announcement of freedom, Mel walked with a grin into the hallway. The Ontario school flooded with students on their way to watch the football game, but Mel went somewhere else. He went to the changeroom.

Mel’s career in sports had only materialised the previous year, but it was this fulfilling vocation that kept him hanging on. You see, with a name like Mel, it was virtually impossible for a person to lead even a meagre resemblance of a social life. It was the other half of his name he employed on the field, and his success at the game garnered the respect of each and every student at Marlborough High. The trouble was, nobody knew it was him on that field. This is because Melvin Morale was not a quarterback or a star running-back.

He was the school mascot.

When Mel donned the heavy suit and mask, he did not simply become the face of the Marlborough Muskrats franchise. He became Mighty Muskrat, defender of the defenceless; or at least, the weakly fortified. He commanded an army of nimbly minded adolescents, whose cry could be heard at his explicit command! A cartwheel and an extended arm could unleash the lusty moans and jealous groans of every co-ed in the stands! And what was more, like a true hero, he did not do it for his own glory, as he might easily do. He did it entirely for the team he represented; for the team who was nothing without the home team’s cheer- who was nothing without HIM.

You might call this excessive. In fact, it is excessive. It is nothing short of sheer insanity. Melvin Morale was the epitome of a card-carrying lunatic. “What could possibly have driven our hero so fully over the edge?” you may wonder. Clearly, this was the product of a long process, but there was one moment where his invented identity and his neglected reality crossed paths. I witnessed this moment first hand, and it is with terrifying clarity I will disclose this history to you, my esteemed reader, in the next episode. Don’t miss it; it’s sure to be worth five stars.

TO BE CONTINUED

MM E:II *****

The frantic clerk struggles with the combination dial of the vault. His second chin flushes red as another drop of sweat rolls off of his bald head. The thief shields his eyes from the glare. A shot rings off the solid alloy door (ting!) as he grows increasingly impatient.

“Give me the money!”

The pudgy plutocrat cracks the code, and the prehensile pilferer bags the bills, and bounds out of the bank. He tumbles into a dilapidated jalopy, and his wheel man burns rubber,

They hear the faint whine of sirens heading in the wrong direction and exchange high-fives, but their celebration will be short lived. They begin to hear the rushed sweep of a cape and the pit-pat of speeding feet on pavement.

CLUNK! “What was that?” The car screeches around a corner, and the fated fugitives notice that it is a little top-heavy. A set of clawed feet slam into the hood, and in an amazing feat of strength, rat-like talons tear the roof off, as if it were a tin can.

“Oh no! It’s MIGHTY MUSKRAT!”

The robust, enraged rodent jumps backward, slams his toes into the asphalt, and the car comes to a dead stop. Twin human bullets shoot from their seats, but the merciful muskrat makes a swift spring, and spares the stunned scalawags from their deaths. A quick twist transforms a near-by bike rack into make-shift shackles, and the Amethyst Avenger’s blurring speed prints a victorious purple streak in the sky.

*SLAM* A ruler cracks down on the desk of the day-dreaming Melvin Morale, sophomore student at Marlborough High.

“Is the material boring you, Mr. Morale, or is my voice particularly soothing this morning?”

Mel mumbles a meek reply, and Mr. Stafford is satisfied. Our groggy protagonist wipes the sleep from his eyes and the drool off his notes, lifts his pen, and masquerades as a student for the final five minutes of class.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Prelude: MM E:I (Mighty Muskrat episode roman numeral one) *****

What follows is a tale of daring; a nonfictional, auto-biographical, exhilarating tale of intensity. A rousing plot with new, unexpected entanglements around every corner will leave my esteemed reader begging for more, holding his breath at the end of every episode. I know what some of you are thinking; this is extremely dangerous. Well, I assure you, it is strictly metaphorical, and I suspect nobody will suffocate themselves because of a gripping conclusion to a Mighty Muskrat episode. However, if it is an especially tragic episode, anybody within the reader's violently melancholic path should consult "Enter the Dragon", "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", "Dragon's Bane", "Rush Hour", or any other movie which features a martial artist or the word 'Dragon' in its title, for tips on self-defense. However, barring time restraints, the best advice might be to run.
Excessive cliche's and my thesaurus aside, this blog is unlike any blog in the history of blogs. For instance, I will make an effort to refer to it with its original, more proper title: "web log". In addition, this blog, or rather, web log, will include very minimal entries based on my opinion on things, my feelings about life, or my meditations on life. The reasoning behind this is that you, the reader, still have the benefit of a face-to-face conversation with me, and while scholars may be frustrated with the lack of literature based on these things after my death, I hope that this rule will benefit my real-time social life.
Instead, this web log will include different episodes in the folklore behind the infamous super hero extroardinare, Mighty Muskrat. His story will hopefully inspire those without hope, those whose life is on the brink of disaster, those in Dire Straits (hopefully all four members), and those doing a blog search for poodles, since that is one of the tags for this web log.
What you can expect as a reader and non-contributer is a dose of entertainment to start your week, intense character development, and a star rating out of five in the title of each entry, so that you can distinguish a good episode from a bad one.

Of course, there is much more to come, but instead of waiting by your computer for the next week getting your sustenance from an IV machine, I encourage you to continue in daily activities, and conduct yourself with a level of patience and self-control. See Galatians 5 for more instructions.

Enjoy!
-Jordan Burgsma