Captain Rescue was at wit’s end. Assuming his wits had an end, or that they even existed in the first place. Two weeks had passed since his decision to make fighting crime a full-time gig. He had searched diligently but fruitlessly for a spot to establish his heroic headquarters. He needed a break. He needed the Longview Urinal Cake Factory. They even offered free tours. And free tours meant free cake. Captain Rescue loved cake. But who didn’t? Pie Nazis, that’s who. As far as he was concerned, those people were evil incarnate.
Captain Rescue gazed up at the factory’s glowing neon sign, ready to dive in. In order to blend in with the public, he had donned the perfect disguise. His Captain Rescue t-shirt showed proudly. His Captain Rescue fanny pack sat strapped to his waist. And his Captain Rescue socks finalized the message. No way was this man Captain Rescue. And thus he could spread his heroic influence with no one the wiser. He could—for a brief, cake-infused moment—forget his crime fighting endeavors and enjoy the city he so bravely protected.
He pushed through the double doors and entered the foyer. There, a receptionist displayed her sparkling white teeth. Teeth white enough to eat off. As he approached the desk, he wondered why anyone would want to eat off teeth.
“Hello there,” the receptionist said. “I see you like Captain Rescue, too!”
“Oh yes,” he said, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible. “I’m his number one fan.”
She giggled. “Are you here for the tour?”
Captain Rescue nodded.
“Excellent! Just sign the guestbook and we’ll get you started.”
He jotted down his most commonly used alias: Reginald Lollygagger.
The reception glanced down. “Interesting name. Where are you from, Reginald?”
He panicked. “Uh… the UK!”
“Wow. Where’s your accent?”
Captain Rescue’s panic intensified. “I… uh… hide it to blend in.”
“Oh, cool! Say something with an English accent.”
“Howdy partner!” he blurted out in the thickest southern drawl imaginable. It was the first accent to pop into his head, and the wrong one.
The receptionist’s face went momentarily blank, then she laughed. “You’re a funny guy, Reginald.”
Captain Rescue smiled. He had once again put his heroic prowess to good use.
She pointed at the closed doors across from them, which lead into the nearby hallway. “Are you ready for the tour?”
He glanced around. “Just me?”
The young receptionist nodded. “We don’t get many visitors. This is a urinal cake factory, after all.”
Just then, the front doors opened, and Captain Rescue whirled around, instinctively switching to hero mode. Evil did lurk around every corner. Instead of evil, however, a young man barged through the doors. He eyed the hero’s heroic t-shirt from under his greasy, matted hair and snickered.
“Captain Rescue?” he scoffed. “That caped guy that’s been running around these last few weeks?”
Captain Rescue nodded excitedly. “It sure is. I’m his biggest fan!”
“He’s a loser. He’ll get himself killed before the end of the year.”
“No way! Captain Rescue’s the real deal!”
His new arch-nemesis laughed. “Then you’re just as deluded as he is!”
The receptionist cleared her throat. “You’ll have to excuse Carl. He’s… uh… he’s… he’s creepy.”
The young man balked. “Wow. Thanks Grace.”
“What do you expect? You spend you free time hanging out in a urinal cake factory, pestering our few visitors.” She ushered them toward the closed interior doors. “Let me just shut down the desk—we hardly get visitors anyway—then we’ll start the tour. And if Mr. Lollygagger doesn’t mind, you can come along, Carl.”
The receptionist stared at Captain Rescue, whose ears had forgotten to inform his brain she was addressing him. His face blanked. Then everything caught back up, and Captain Rescue mulled. Clearly, Carl was no fan. But maybe with a good angle and the right words, Captain Rescue could turn him into one. He had the power.
Thirty seconds after she first petitioned him, the hero nodded. “He can come!”
“I’m glad you gave it... enough… thought.” Her face faltered for a moment, but then she beamed and swept her hands towards the interior doors. “Follow me, please.”
Captain Rescue felt a rush of excitement. Past that magical portal, a world beyond his wildest dreams awaited. Nothing was more delicious than cake, and he had high hopes for this foreign urinal variety. He couldn’t believe that nobody wanted to go on the factory’s free tours and enjoy all the free cake.
The receptionist-turned-tour guide opened the doors, revealing to Captain Rescue his wildest dreams: a hallway. He could almost taste the urinal cakes. They had to be around here somewhere. Around this corner, perhaps. Or behind that door.
Then… a painting on the wall. Eyeing it, Captain Rescue recognized one of those small discs used in restroom pee-stalls. Longview, making award-winning urinal cakes since 1873. Urinal. Cake. Cake. Urinal. Urinal cake. Captain Rescue’s mind turned the words over in his head. He gasped. Urinal cake!
“What is it?” the tour guide asked.
He fought back his dismay and tears. “Those… those are urinal cakes? You make those?”
“Of course, silly. What did you think we made, Mr. Lollygagger, chocolate cakes?”
He tried not to cry. “No. Of course not!”
“Now, come along. Our first stop is the place where we press the cakes! It’s fascinating. Carl loves it.”
“Shut up, Grace,” sneered the greasy little man.
Captain Rescue trudged in silence. Why even call them cakes if that’s not what they were? Why not urinal discs? Or urinal patties? He was crushed. Absolutely crushed. Lost was his desire to see this tour through. He should just turn around and go home. Maybe he’d catch a burglary in process.
Then he remembered Carl, the non-believer. The hater. There might not be cake—at least not the edible kind—but there was this greaseball, who desperately needed a good dose of heroic influence. And he was just the person to administer it.
“So, friend,” he questioned the naysayer, “why do you hate Captain Rescue?”
“Simple. He’s an incompetent oaf.”
“What?! He’s a real hero!”
“He’s just some guy dressed up in a costume. He doesn’t even have superpowers. If you put on some tights, would you run around and call yourself a hero?”
Captain Rescue wasn’t sure how to respond, since that’s exactly what he did. “I… uh… of course not.”
“See. That’s just some guy in a costume. He’s not a real hero. Like I said, he’ll be dead before the end of the year.”
“No way! That man is a hero. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Captain Rescue screamed loud… internally… so nobody could hear. Doing otherwise would be silly. This Creepy Carl was a lost cause, immune to the hero’s influence. All he had done for the city, all he had sacrificed, and this scumbag showed him no respect. Didn’t Carl know that just last week Captain Rescue had helped a newspaper boy deliver the morning news? The downtrodden crime-fighter spied a passing restroom. He needed to compose himself.
“Uh…” he stammered, “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay!” the tour guide said cheerfully. “We’ll be down the hall learning how urinal cakes are pressed when you’re done.”
“I already know how they’re pressed,” growled Carl.
“Yeah, well… you’re going to learn again.”
Captain Rescue ducked into the nearby bathroom and listened as the pair strolled down the hall. He’d hang out here for a few minutes. Once he felt back to normal, he’d go out and be a hero in the face of adversary, or, as it were, urinal cakes. The misbegotten crime-fighter slipped into one of the stalls and plopped down. There was no better place to reflect on one’s self than the bathroom.
***
Captain Rescue’s head shot up and he glanced around, no clue where he was. As he wiped the drool from his chin, he gradually remembered: the urinal cake factory. Not only had the place lied to him, now it had put him to sleep.
Eager to meet back up with the tour guide, but not so much with Creepy Carl, Captain Rescue left the stall. How long was he out? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Had it been years? He looked at himself in the mirror. No, he hadn’t aged. At least not visibly. His nose hairs appeared just as long as they were the last time he checked. He really should remember to trim those.
Captain Rescue strode from the bathroom to an eerily quiet hallway. He glanced out the nearby window and saw the moon. His face went rigid. He’d been locked in here… overnight… to die. He gasped and ran down the hall toward the entrance. Bursting through the interior doors, he took in the empty foyer. As well as the door chained shut. Yes; he’d been locked in here… overnight… to die.
Captain Rescue freaked. After clamoring for the barred windows, he ran down the hallway, arms failing, and burst back into the bathroom. Then the hero resorted to screaming. He’d been locked in here…overnight… to die. He hit the ground in a fluster, covered his face with his hands, and wept. Creepy Carl had been more right than he realized. This was the end for Captain Rescue. Bested by a urinal cake factory. He plopped down on the ground and waited for death to come and take him.
No.
Captain Rescue couldn’t just give up and die.
Not like this.
Not in the hands of a urinal cake factory.
The hero climbed back to his feet and took a deep breath. There had to be a way out here. He just had to find it… before he ran out of food and water. Captain Rescue’s eyes went wide. He had no food or water. He had better hurry.
He left the bathroom. No more than fifteen steps later, the fear of death crept back into his soul. To avoid the stalking grim reaper, Captain Rescue ducked into the first door he could find, closing it behind him. Like a proper gentleman. He found himself in a large room, machinery all around. This must be where they made those imposter cakes that had lured him here under false pretenses.
Frustrated, he turned to leave. His hand pushed the door, but the door… the door said no. Captain Rescue was trapped. The next few minutes were a blur of running, screaming, arms flailing… and tears. It all culminated in a painful smack against the wall, but the wall… the wall said yes.
Drywall fell around him, and Captain Rescue stumbled into a hidden alcove. He was going to have to pay for this damage. Unless… the hero darted back into the factory room, surveyed the area, then grabbed a nearby folding chair. He placed it in front of the large hole, and nodded. That should do it. He had trained himself in the art of camouflage, after all.
Captain Rescue faced the hidden area he’d exposed. It was dark. It was scary. It was probably going to eat him alive. But it was a potential way out. He had to investigate. Bypassing the cleverly laid chair, he entered the alcove, which led to a pitch black tunnel. Though he was a hero, Captain Rescue could not see in the dark. He’d have to play it safe, or he’d fall down a well, and he had no dog to run for help. He should really keep a dog whistle in his utility belt.
He touched the nearby natural rock wall, then began following it into the darkness. As he ran his hand along the wet, dank stone, Captain Rescue imagined the wealth of creepy crawlies that might, just might, be crawling creepily about. He spent the next fifteen minutes of the journey worrying about just that fact. A few times, he thought he felt something squishy, which he did, but it was only moss—not a twenty-foot spider that would swallow him whole.
If only he had brought his leather hero gloves with him. That would’ve made the entire experience exponentially more bearable. Yet here he was with his bare hands, wandering his way through a darkened tunnel. Maybe he’d get lucky and find his way out of this labyrinth before he starved or something ate him. He could already feel his stomach growl. He might have to wrestle one of those twenty-foot spiders to the death, then eat it. Even if it killed him.
Captain Rescue took another step, only it wasn’t there. The ground. His mind relayed this fact to the rest of his body, and he stumbled backward before tumbling into the darkness. After forcing his heart back down his throat, Captain Rescue felt the cave floor with his foot, then investigated the pronounced drop. If only he had brought along a flashlight. How could he have been so stup—.
The hero planted his feet firmly upon ground, withdrew the flashlight from his pocket, and flipped it on. Much better. Pointing the light at the ground, he could see that the pronounced drop wasn’t nearly as pronounced as he previously thought. But, without his heroic instincts, he could’ve easily sprained his ankle.
Shining the light forward, Captain Rescue couldn’t see where the tunnel led, and he couldn’t be more thrilled. He loved a good, well-lit mystery. He sprang forward, erupting into a sprint for the ages. His feet pounded against the damp rocks, and in spite of his worst abilities, he didn’t fall and split his skull open. Captain Rescue made it to the bottom of the tunnel, then once again the ground left him. Only this time he was moving too quickly to realize it. And he fell.
He had just decided screaming would be a good idea when he splashed into a subterranean pool. Captain Rescue gripped the waterproof flashlight tightly; even he knew losing it at a time like this would not be a fortunate development.
Captain Rescue broke the surface of the water and swam for what he hoped was the shore—though it could’ve been the back of a submerged sea monster. But as his hand smacked the cold stone, it didn’t budge. Nor eat him. Captain Rescue was safe. For now. He climbed to his feet and scanned the area with his flashlight. Then he gasped. A cave. A big, cavernous cave.
He glanced back up to where he’d fallen and the stream of water tumbling down from there. A few yards from him, the pool fed into another stream, which led out of the cave and out of sight. He’d found a way out, but he’d also found so much more—a place to establish his heroic headquarters. Every crime-fighter needed a cave, and now Captain Rescue had one. It was official. He was a real hero.
And the rest is history.