So we three Unbelievables figured we were up to the challenge of sorting out the three hellions from the VW commercial. Phil was assigned to Michael, Clark got Chunk and me, I got lumbered with Spazz. Spazz seems to be missing a chromosome or perhaps his mother dropped him on his head when only a baby. Either way, there's sump'n about this peculiar character that's a tad NQR. (Not Quite Right.) Whatever his problem, it causes him to leave a trail of destruction wherever he goes. Sometimes he's completely unaware of the fact that he is leaving broken toys and burning toasters in his wake. Other times he laps it up, like in the commercial pictured above. I went to see the kid, and the first thing I noticed was a large puddle of maple syrup on the floor. Spazz was calmly sitting at the table, eating pancakes. "What happened here?" quoth I. "I dunno," the little one-man wrecking crew replied, flobbing chunks of pancake as he spoke. "it just sorta happened." "So what's with the burned-out cereal box then?" I asked, gesturing towards the pile of black ash still smoldering at the other end of the table. "Oh, well, you know how parents always tell you not to play with matches? I just wanted to find out why. Trouble is, my glasses mess with my depth perception."
It occurred to me that there was very little anyone could do for Spazz, so what I did was to give the little twit a special Unbelieva-Safety-Backpack.
Contained within this pack is everything that he could possibly need. First Aid Kit, baby wipes, defibrillator, whistle, screwdriver, penknife, fire extinguisher, Tide stain remover, thing for getting stones out of horses' hooves, you name it, it's in there. There's also a big sign on the outside to warn passers-by of the dangers of being near Spazz, and also to use the contents of his pack should a calamity occur (and you know it will). Bottom line, Spazz is just a walking disaster area, sometimes accidental, sometimes deliberate, and the best anyone can do around him is to take appropriate action when the inevitable occurs. So it makes sense to supply the kid with useful items in a handy hi-vis pack that anyone can use. It's either that, or lock the kid in the attic and pretend he ran away to join the circus. Say, the circus... I wonder if they'd want him...? Let's Google it...
Last week it was Camp Unbelievable where all the kids had the times of their lives.
They learned life skills, valuable lessons and they were taught the in and out "essentials" which, going forward, they will be glad to have been witness to later in life.
And then? There's these guys:
From left to right they are Phil, Spazz and Chunk, the three holy terrors.
Look familiar? That's because you've seen them in the commercial below:
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They're not actors. They're real kids. Well, originally they were actors ... until the popularity of the Volkswagen commercial went to their heads and they decided they could get away with whatever the hell they wanted. By chance their parents heard about The Unbelievables one fine day and wondered - regardless of the fact we're a non-government affiliated, multi-jurisdictional, not-for-profit crime & injustice fighting organization - if we might be able to reign these hooligans in a bit.
We decided to accept the challenge.
Each of us randomly picked names out of a hat to see which kid each was assigned to. I got Phil.
We decided the best way to deal with these little tornadoes of energy was to use any means necessary at our disposal to whip them into shape, which suited us just fine.
"No lasting physical harm" was the only request from Chunk's dad (he may have been joking around, we're still not sure) and we promised to abide by that. (Mostly.)
I drew Phil. Jeff got Spazz, Clark wound up with Chunk.
Phil was a pretty easy case to control. I subjected him to game after game after game of volleyball against a team of Unbelieva-Babes. He got tired pretty quickly ... but a handy, dandy cattle prod aided my efforts. Honestly, once he saw what it could do, it appeared more intimidating than anything, especially after that initial jolt. (Relax ... I modified it to apply only a slight shock as opposed to a full-force zapping. A bit cruel, perhaps, but effective.)
Sadistic? No. We're talking little monsters here so all was fair in love and war. And, really, I had to employ the thing a mere handful of times. By the end of the day, Phil was putty in my hands and (how should I put this?) "open to the suggestion" of cooling his jets and "acting proper." The results I expected were just as I'd planned with nary a side step.
Jeff and Clark? Jeff got Spazz ...
... Clark wound up with Chunk ...
My partners had other challenging hills to climb with their charges. I'll let them tell their tales ...
