Thunder Thighs & a victory most malodorous
Victo Dolore’s recent post on sad times in school lunchrooms reminded me of my own like experiences. I was always one of the odd ones out. I remembered my mom’s like tales, too, and a post I’d written remembering those.
I think my mom–aka Thunder Thighs, my favorite superhero–would have loved its ending.
A Victory Most Malodorous
September 10, 2015
Tonight, my older son asked me to tell him “the story about the cat and the dog.”
“Which story?” I asked him. “This isn’t ringing a bell. Could you give me a little more detail to remind me?”
“The one where the dog brings the cat milk.”
“Oh! Bud and Tanzie!” My story. I happily told him the story again.
“Could you tell me another story?” he asked sleepily after I finished reminding him about Bud and Tanzie.
“Sure.” I searched my brain for a moment before beginning:
Once upon a time,
there was a superhero named Thunder Thighs.
She tried to sit at a table with the other superheroes,
but they didn’t like how much she burped and farted,
or how her underarms smelled like baby throw-up
in a baby’s poopy diaper!
But, one day,
a super-villain came to town.
He was so super that he took over the whole town,
and defeated all the superheroes, except Thunder Thighs,
who was still moping to The Decemberists after
being excluded for her smelliness.
When she realized there was no one else
left who could possibly save the day,
she went to fight the villain.
She quickly discovered
that his single vulnerability
was a sensitivity to grotesque smells.
“Get away! Get a–” he shrieked
when he smelled her, before passing out
while gasping for a breath
of unstinky air.
Thunder Thighs cuffed him
and dragged him to the authorities,
who made sure he was forever surrounded
by terrificially stinky smells.
And Thunder Thighs,
well, she was forever after welcome
to sit wherever the heck she wanted.