Random-ish story about a superhero, her sidekick and a few baddies.
"For it is at night, when all of the vulnerable citizens rest in their beds, I come out. My homework completed as always."
Each morning I arise. I breathe a sigh of contentment as I open the window, gazing at the surreal view, the peacefulness, the innocence. I smell a familiar scent as it rises up to greet me. I know this smell very well; it is the reason I do what I do. The smell of justice.
Not many people are aware of the fact that I spend countless hours of my day thinking of how to improve the world we live in. Even fewer know what I do at night to protect them. For it is at night, when all the vulnerable citizens rest in their beds, I come out. My homework completed as always.
I guard the town from "evil-doers", the name I give the criminals whose only aim is to destroy the serene atmosphere of Foodsdale. I await those who lurk in the dark as it is they who pray on their next victim.
In the drop of a slice of bread, I land before them. A smirk firmly panted on my lips as I witness the shock spread through their very being. "Who are you?" they murmur, unable to do anything else. I answer, with a slight cackle, "ToastWoman" before encasing their body in a slice of toast.
They are incapable of moving, for you see, the the toast is burnt to such a degree it is without a doubt the strongest material ever created. The smell is so putrid that it completely annihilates their sense of smell, leaving most with their noses only detecting the smell of lavender at all times. Others, on the other hand, decide to hand themselves in.
If the suspect attempts to escape I use my toast-mobile. A silver machine created for the sole purpose of catching escapees. By holding the wire by its handle, making use of its three metal safety mechanisms, I can throw the toast-mobile under the evil-doers, tripping them. Or in some extreme cases I can make toast pop out of the top. This startles them into halting.
Sometimes I have to use my toaster-ray-vision to trap them. They won't try to eat their way out due to the marmite that has been zapped on. It is the most frightening of all, as the person is surrounded in all directions by marmite covered slices of taost. Nothing else.
Inside is void of all good tasting spreads. The only way out is by confessing and going to the police, cops, guards - who ever can arrest them and sentence them to jail...
After all, it is the up keep of the towns image that matters and when our criminals hand themselves in - the image improves.
When dawn comes, I am in bed, satisfied by my work and happy in the knowledge that my secret will remain hidden. I know this as I no longer do home-ec nor do I make toast around people. All is well again, but sometimes, a hero needs a little help from somebody who can use a bow and is easily contacted (preferably by phone or internet) - so the process can repeat itself. That is - until the day I run out of butter... or juice depending on the situation.