Times were grim in Burlington. Sure the economy came back, the Lake Monsters won a few games, and the kids at the skate park were behaving. Tourists flocked to Church Street to line up for Ben and Jerry’s, and heck, event the street performers boasted about doing well.
Overheard recently, “I’m doing pretty well with my street art. You will never hear me talking about going back to live with my parents!”
“That’s because I never left!”
But it was a front. The city was running sluggishly and no matter how mach triple shot organic espresso was served, a funk of low energy draped over the city like a wet dirty towel. You could see it in the slower shuffling pace of the citizens of the North End. Strangely enough, no one was out riding their bicycles. Even puppies were listless, frozen.
Fortune was with Queen City, however, as a local super hero stood guard- yes, the ever loyal spectre who leaped out of Battery Park- Cap’n Battery! A Triple A Supercharged Superhero!
Yes, his patriotism lit up the sky, and may have pissed off a few local Socialists and underground Republicans, yet he was a fan of what America used to stand for before it turned into the name calling, poll peeing, fake tweeting sideshow of the current era. It was time for action, to bring some alkaline energy to not only this city, but the nation.
COuld things be looking up in the city by the lake?
Perhaps… until The Goons showed up.
Where the Goons emerge from, no one knows. Why they are here is a msyerty too, as they are known to be in fear of ripe blue cheese. Sure, a few of the local homeless that hung around the boardwalk last night reported they had seen Goons slithering off of the ferry on King Street, dancing around the lobby of the Hilton and busting the ATM at Boves.
Other concerned citizens spray painted accusations that The Goons had come down from the Adirondacks, maybe dropouts from Philosophy programs at Skidmore College or St Lawrence University. Or that they were some sort of mountain varmints or maybe something that swam over from New Jersey, and sneaked upstate on the Upper Hudson Railroad.
Things get nasty when the stories fly like fresh cranberries mixed with kale in a Vitamix machine.
No matter as Captain Batter was not afraid of anything, least of all some transient Park Avenue mutants. It was time to unfurl some Green Mountain energy, and if it got reall bad, to call in the Tree Monsters from the Northeast Kingdom.
Nueroplastic energy surged through town, too strong to be contained by wires, it followed the very atomic fabric of the sidewalks, streets, storefronts, light poles, and those Goretex scarves they sell at Skirack. Trash flew up from the gutters into receptacles. Road raged drivers on Route 7 became awash in choruses of “Seasons ni the Sun” and slowing down just to wave at each other. Heck, the contentious Walmart under construction just melted away and reverted to a wildflower garden.
The flow reversed entropy and stacked rocks on the beach.
“My work here is done!” boomed Captain Battery, but knowing he was needed elsewhere, he zoomed down to the big Apple to make sure all citizens were able to energize their iDevices.
Don’t ask me what this is about, i just got inspired to see if I could make a story out of the photos I took today and the GIFSs I made from them). No cute puppies named Bernie were harmed in this story.