Ironbird Scrooge jogged mirthlessly through the grey streets of his home town. Left and right, children turned away as he passed, some to avoid his gaze, others to utter the curse they dare not say to his face. Mothers hugged their infants closer to them, and the elderly merely shook their heads in disapproval.
Step after soggy step the painful display continued. The soreness of Ironbird's hip grew with every step, yet he limped on, regimented as he was, and had long since abandoned all sensations related to his aging corporeal being. Running was a part of his day, a means to an end, and nothing more.
At an intersection where a traffic light turned red, Ironbird was temporarily stopped, whereupon two young individuals dressed in black pants, white shirts, and ties approached. Their intentions were completely philanthropic; as Mormans, they wished only to provide a path to salvation for what was obviously a very lost soul.
"Sir, would you give us a minute of your time?" one asked.
"We would like to tell you about..." started the other.
"BAH!" shouted Ironbird.
Flashing his trademark salute, Ironbird continued on as the light turned, leaving behind two startled and insulted Mormons to consider the limits of their faith.
Returning to his home, Ironbird attempted to place his key in the door lock. A movement on the door caught his eye, and as he stepped back he recognized the vision of his original training partner materializing on the door.
"IIIIRron-BIIIRRRDDDddd..." it called plaintively, and then was gone. Ironbird was at first completely aghast, but quickly regained his senses. He reasoned his run had taken him into glycogen depletion, and the whole thing was in his head. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd hallucinated on a run!
Ironbird showered and shaved, then decided there wasn't much to eat around the house. Since his hunger had obviously driven him to delusions, he hopped in the most adored vehicle in town and drove (enjoying the envy and jealousy of all that saw him) to Wendy's, where he ordered his favorite #6 - spicy chicken and large fries, all washed down with a couple of large glasses of Diet Coke. Mid-meal a small, hungry child came up and stared at Ironbird's fries. The intent was obvious, but just as clearly rejected. Placing his foot on the child's forehead he pushed firmly away, uttering a clear and sardonic, "HO...HO... HOOOOooo".
Back at the house, Ironbird settled in for the evening. There was a bit of ice cream left, so he fixed himself a bowl and tuned into weekly cage match fight. He was entertained for a while, but soon the day weighed on him, and Ironbird decided to call it a night.
As he dressed for bed, sporting his Captain America underoos, a knock was heard at the bedroom door. Impossible he thought, for he was certain he'd locked the outside door. The knock came again, harder and Ironbird knew it was really happening. Jumping for the only defense available, he dove under the covers, hoping upon hope the intruder could not penetrate the bedsheet force field he'd erected.
Under the sheets Ironbird heard the door open, the sound of something heavy being drug across his hardwood floor, and shuffling footsteps. Whoever, WHATEVER was in the room was right beside the bed now. Gathering all his nerve, Ironbird lifted his sheets to face whatever terror lurked.
And then he saw him. He was of medium height, neither over tall or over short. His body was barrel-shaped and sat upon tree trunks for legs. His uniform was tussled, unkempt, and his saber drug the ground at his side. Underneath his feathered hat was long grey hair pulled into a ponytail so long it looked like a, well, horse's tail. There was no mistake about it, it was him.
It was Norm.
"IIIRRon-BBirrddddd..." he called again. His head was characteristically tilted to one side, his face grimaced, and he lurched forward one more step. "We have unsettled biiiz-nezzzzz".
"What is it you want of me? Who are you?" cried Ironbird, not ready to admit out loud what his eyes were seeing.
With difficulty, the apparition began again. "Don't you know me? It's Norm... I've come to warn you."
"Warn me of what?"
"The path you are on is of disaster. If you do not change your ways, if you do not learn your purpose, you may be lost forever!"
"Purpose? I think I understand my purpose quite well. Live my life as properly as possible and mind my own business (which is something I could say for someone standing in this room right now...)"
"IRONBIRD!" Norm thundered. "Do not test me. By the beard of General Lee, you will not pass through this night without being tested. Three times, in fact. Expect the first at the stroke of one, the next at two, and the third at three. Heed well the messages they give you - for your running soul is at stake!"
With that, the apparition turned to run out of the room. Yet, it wasn't really a run as much as it was a shuffle. The head tilted over to the side, the arms pumped furiously, but the legs never really left the ground.
Yup, that was Norm all right...
Step after soggy step the painful display continued. The soreness of Ironbird's hip grew with every step, yet he limped on, regimented as he was, and had long since abandoned all sensations related to his aging corporeal being. Running was a part of his day, a means to an end, and nothing more.
At an intersection where a traffic light turned red, Ironbird was temporarily stopped, whereupon two young individuals dressed in black pants, white shirts, and ties approached. Their intentions were completely philanthropic; as Mormans, they wished only to provide a path to salvation for what was obviously a very lost soul.
"Sir, would you give us a minute of your time?" one asked.
"We would like to tell you about..." started the other.
"BAH!" shouted Ironbird.
Flashing his trademark salute, Ironbird continued on as the light turned, leaving behind two startled and insulted Mormons to consider the limits of their faith.
Returning to his home, Ironbird attempted to place his key in the door lock. A movement on the door caught his eye, and as he stepped back he recognized the vision of his original training partner materializing on the door.
"IIIIRron-BIIIRRRDDDddd..." it called plaintively, and then was gone. Ironbird was at first completely aghast, but quickly regained his senses. He reasoned his run had taken him into glycogen depletion, and the whole thing was in his head. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd hallucinated on a run!
Ironbird showered and shaved, then decided there wasn't much to eat around the house. Since his hunger had obviously driven him to delusions, he hopped in the most adored vehicle in town and drove (enjoying the envy and jealousy of all that saw him) to Wendy's, where he ordered his favorite #6 - spicy chicken and large fries, all washed down with a couple of large glasses of Diet Coke. Mid-meal a small, hungry child came up and stared at Ironbird's fries. The intent was obvious, but just as clearly rejected. Placing his foot on the child's forehead he pushed firmly away, uttering a clear and sardonic, "HO...HO... HOOOOooo".
Back at the house, Ironbird settled in for the evening. There was a bit of ice cream left, so he fixed himself a bowl and tuned into weekly cage match fight. He was entertained for a while, but soon the day weighed on him, and Ironbird decided to call it a night.
As he dressed for bed, sporting his Captain America underoos, a knock was heard at the bedroom door. Impossible he thought, for he was certain he'd locked the outside door. The knock came again, harder and Ironbird knew it was really happening. Jumping for the only defense available, he dove under the covers, hoping upon hope the intruder could not penetrate the bedsheet force field he'd erected.
Under the sheets Ironbird heard the door open, the sound of something heavy being drug across his hardwood floor, and shuffling footsteps. Whoever, WHATEVER was in the room was right beside the bed now. Gathering all his nerve, Ironbird lifted his sheets to face whatever terror lurked.
And then he saw him. He was of medium height, neither over tall or over short. His body was barrel-shaped and sat upon tree trunks for legs. His uniform was tussled, unkempt, and his saber drug the ground at his side. Underneath his feathered hat was long grey hair pulled into a ponytail so long it looked like a, well, horse's tail. There was no mistake about it, it was him.
It was Norm.
"IIIRRon-BBirrddddd..." he called again. His head was characteristically tilted to one side, his face grimaced, and he lurched forward one more step. "We have unsettled biiiz-nezzzzz".
"What is it you want of me? Who are you?" cried Ironbird, not ready to admit out loud what his eyes were seeing.
With difficulty, the apparition began again. "Don't you know me? It's Norm... I've come to warn you."
"Warn me of what?"
"The path you are on is of disaster. If you do not change your ways, if you do not learn your purpose, you may be lost forever!"
"Purpose? I think I understand my purpose quite well. Live my life as properly as possible and mind my own business (which is something I could say for someone standing in this room right now...)"
"IRONBIRD!" Norm thundered. "Do not test me. By the beard of General Lee, you will not pass through this night without being tested. Three times, in fact. Expect the first at the stroke of one, the next at two, and the third at three. Heed well the messages they give you - for your running soul is at stake!"
With that, the apparition turned to run out of the room. Yet, it wasn't really a run as much as it was a shuffle. The head tilted over to the side, the arms pumped furiously, but the legs never really left the ground.
Yup, that was Norm all right...
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