AKA Reginald Yorke

Sorry for the lengthy period in between posts. Last week was busy, plus I was a little ill, plus I was a little lazy.

This week’s piece was inspired by the image below. It’s pretty stupid. I hope you find something in it you like. I feel a little rusty to be honest, even after such a short “break”. I think that’s why this flash is a little crazy.

Anyway, to the story!

AKA Reginald Yorke

Dear readers,

I write in response to the front page story which ran in yesterday’s Daily Herald. The article featured many inaccuracies I hope to now clear up.

While the chemical spill may have given me these abilities, and the lightning strike may have enhanced them, neither truly forged the man who roams the streets of Bristol today. Instead, to fully understand the motives and intentions of the “stranger” described in yesterday’s exposé – “Donkey King or Donkey’s Ass?” (both incorrect, but more on that later) – we must travel back to 1994, and a little place called Windmill Hill City Farm.

It was my birthday. I was soon to be 10-years-old. My parents had arranged an after-school party for me and a few friends at the local farm. Looking back, it wasn’t much of a farm. A few enclosures, a small petting area, a run-down restaurant and an adventure playground. But the kids loved it. We were all having a great time petting goats and feeding ducks. This wasn’t to last.

As the rest of the group were eating, I – as I was prone to do at the time – wandered off on my own. I soon found myself at a dead end. As I turned to make my way back I found my path blocked by an escaped animal. As I didn’t know any better, I assumed it was a nice old donkey. I strolled forward and attempted to pet it. Big mistake. The animal shook away the annoyance of flies and shoved me to the floor. I jumped to my feet but he pushed me back down. What happened next was a violent blur of hair and hooves and hissing. A kid at our school, Johnny, said he heard my screams from his house two streets away. By the time anybody reached me it was too late; the attack was over. The animal wandered off, somewhat nonchalantly I was later told. I did nothing but cower on the floor, blubbering.

The ensuing nightmares lasted for months. Every night, without fail. I still get them, occasionally, but have learned to cope. My nightmares became the only place I saw these animals; I avoided all contact with them in my daily life. As the years past, I came to learn it was not a donkey that attacked me that day, but a hungry, angry mule. The farm’s veterinarian recently revealed to me – after I found her on Facebook – that the animal escaped the farm and fled the city not long after our encounter. I assume he’s still at large.

So, why am I telling you all this? You’re aware of Bruce Wayne and his crime fighting alter-ego? This is where I take my inspiration. He chose the bat as his symbol as it was the thing he feared the most. He wanted his enemies to share the dread he had for the creatures. This is the same reason I do what I do, in the way I do.

After my accidents, I knew I was destined for something greater. I haggled a very reasonable price for a spare costume from my local theatre (nativity donkey, but I suspect nobody will tell the difference) and have since made several amendments: re-enforced the hooves, Bluetooth headset in the left ear, Kevlar across the chest (eBay) and night-vision goggles inside the head. With the enhanced strength I now have, the hooves pack quite a punch. This was all paid for with the handsome compensation package I received as a result of the chemical spill. The money also ensures I do not need to work for at least two years. Fighting crime is now my full-time job.

I appreciate the first few weeks of this new endeavour may result in some shocked and confused faces amongst Bristol’s citizens. After all, it’s not every day you see a man flying around in a nativity costume. But I hope that, in time, people will stop laughing and see me for the hero I strive to be. I may not be the hero you all expected, but I’m the one you’ve got for now.

Finally, to yesterday’s headline. As I hope you are now aware, I am not dressed as a donkey. Neither was I simply “assing around”. Crime is a serious problem in this city, and I intend to rid us of it. So, know this: the next time you’re in trouble and you need someone to help, do not hesitate to contact me. I’ll be there for you.

I may look like a donkey, but you can call me the Mule-Man.

Kindest regards,

M.

P.S. I can be contacted in the following ways:

Email: Mule.Man@live.co.uk

Twitter: @TheRealMuleMan

Website: http://www.Mule-Man.com (under construction)

See you on the streets…

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Author: jackkholt

Film graduate. Lover of lots of good films and quite a few bad ones. Reader. Writer. Novel in progress, obviously.

24 thoughts on “AKA Reginald Yorke”

  1. I love the fact the twitter account exists. That’s attention to detail, that is.

    Predictably, it’s a superhero story, I really like it. Tongue in cheek, a few references thrown in, puns and a great sense of humour. Nice one, Jack. =)

  2. Oh, lovely, I commented, but the wordpress login (which I’ve never needed to use before) ate it. >_<

    Suffice to say… I really enjoyed this. =)

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