Long before the Cow (well, a month or so before she ambled into these pastures) there was the Donkey, a tall rake like figure who resembled a middle finger. He was as sinister as a currant bun. A currant bun, as we all know is exceptionally sinister.. there you are, biting into a nice cake when BAM, a mouthful of what tastes like poison.
The Donkey, whos real name was Donald Quay, ruled the temps not with an iron fist (he could never lift the glove) but he did carry a whip around with him, and this was more than enough to strike fear into the hearts of the temps. All except one. The one who spent most of his days at the kettle, providing fuel for his biscuit dunking habit.
No one knew his name, save those who signed his timesheets, and they were surprisingly reluctant to divulge what it was to anyone, no matter how much they begged and pleaded after the incident. The incident which you are now going to read below.
Kevin, i mean, the-man-with-no-name... the-nameless-one... he-who's-name-cannot-be-spake-save-eardrums-exploding-and-people-falling-to-their-knees-screaming-"Why-God-Why?!"....... oh bugger. Well, anyway, HIM was one day in the canteen, making his way through another packet of chocolate digestives.
He was lifting yet one more to his mouth when it exploded in his hands, and he turned to the sound of an animals laughter. "Hee-Haw, Hee-Haw... you have just felt the wrath of Don Quay for taking an unscheduled break," the whip wielding supervisor laughed. "Get back to work, maggot!" The manager turned to stalk off after the grilling, a smile of superiority crowning his face.
He was stopped however, by the chill in the voice of Ke... of the unnamed employee. "You broke my biscuit," he said slowly, and as the Donkey swivelled around to face him, he dropped his backpack of biscuits and started to roll up his sleeves. He knew he was going to be fired, but for the moment, that didn't matter.
"Oh you little.." Donkey never finished the sentence as he charged back into the room, preparing to strike with the whip. Kevin... oh for god sake (okay, his name is Kevin, happy now?) clenched his fists, and closed his eyes as the transformation started to take place. His muscles began to grow and harden, making short work of the clothes he had been wearing, but luckily for his modesty, his already decent sized meat and two veg were hidden behind bulging thigh muscles. Throughout the metamorphesis, his eyes stayed calmly closed, even as his hair, which was golden to began with, first grew and cascaded down his back like waves of fire, then started to wrap itself around his body, creating a surprisingly fetching, albeit skin tight and hair uniform. "Err.. Kevin, would you like a cup of tea?" the supervisor asked him.
Oh the pitiful fool, thinking he can be forgiven with mere gifts. he could quite fancy a brew actually, but out of principal he calmy declined. "No thank you, i'm good for the moment."
"Are you going to kill me?" the Donkey asked the hulking and glowing figure before him. "You are, aren't you? You're going to do away with me, and just because of me breaking your ickle biccie" His voice was changing with every word he spoke, becoming stronger, more confident. "I'm afraid that i have no other choice but to fire you, Kevin," he said in a matter of fact tone.
"My name..." the golden man replied in a voice of stone "..is Kevichella, and it is YOU THAT IS TO BE FIRED!" He screamed the last part and moved like a gigantic bullet towards the Donkey, plunging both fists into his chest as if it was made of butter and sent a bolt of magma into his heart. The figure before him screamed and roared in agony as he was engulfed in flames and fell to the floor, his charred body bucking like a... like a donkey. He could hear his fellow temps approaching and didn't want to be seen.
They bustled into the canteen to see an unrecognisable charred corpse (save for the whip still clutched to what looked like a hand) and a hole in the wall, where the mystery assailant had made his escape. They would never see him again.