Tale 1: The Woofer Quandary
Fat footsteps thundered down the pavement, betraying the enormous girth of Solomon Romeo before he entered the room. The door flung open, pushed by a giant ham of a hand, and the arms, shoulders, stomach and – eventually – head of the man appeared through the doorway. He was drenched in sweat, which formed a large patch of moisture on the front of his stained Katie Perry T-Shirt. “We’ve got a problem, guys,” he told the three nervous students who were arranged in varying states of undress on the sofas to be found inside the lounge, which was the room he had just bounced into.
“What is it, Ro?” asked the self-consciously hip Daniel, a student so cool that he purposely stayed four days behind fashion just so he could be seen as a visionary of hipster credibility. Solomon scowled at the nickname.
“I’ve been trying to fix us up with some sweet new speakers for the house party next week, but I’ve reached the website and they say they can give us either woofers or tweeters. I… I have no idea what that means, guys.”
Daniel looked worried. He had no idea how to work any sort of modern appliance, apart from the microwave which he used as a portal to a new world filled with hot pockets and microwave dinners. He always ate with cutlery. He turned with this same look of worry to the two girls, who shrugged. “Maybe they’re shaped like dogs or birds?” suggested Meggan, who was an idiot.
“Yeah, maybe they are!” Solomon clicked his sausage fingers, but his sweat meant that he couldn’t get them to snap. Instead, they emitted a strange swishing noise which unnerved the students even further.
“I don’t know…” started Amber, who was perhaps the only one among the group who wasn’t regularly punched for being an annoying idiot. “That sounds a bit silly, to me. I think perhaps one of them does something, and the other does something else, and we have no way of finding out which one is the best for our low-frequency drum and bass party!”
At that point, the wall exploded in a mount of awesome rubble, and a green cape swished magnificently in front of them all. A man was stood in front of them, a minority wearing a green spandex outfit with a black ‘W’ stitched into the middle.
“Oh no! A minority!” screamed Daniel, who promptly ran away in fear of the black man his hipster self would only ever be able to comprehend if the man had been holding a bass guitar or been part of a dub-reggae band. The figure didn’t even notice as the douchebag took flight, because he had a message to deliver. With one quick motion he whipped out a laptop, flipped it open with triumphant ease, and sat down on the sofa between Meggan and Amber. Meggan, who had never slept with a black guy before, looked around in vain to see if she could find a camera.
The Cloaked Cowboy of Correction brought up a page on the screen about the word ‘woofer’, which is a type of speaker designed for low-frequencies. He jabbed the screen with the Finger Of Authority, and then snapped shut the screen and whirled round twice in the air before jumping back onto his feet. He gave them a nod, and flew away into the night, without paying for the property damage.
“What the freak was that?” asked Solomon Romeo.
I worry about your imagination. Although it did entertain me slightly.
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