Bret AKA The Outdoorsman had been an avid hunter and fisherman before eating some radioactive venison he had taken down near a nuclear power plant. Now he had the power to control animals, or at least that’s how he described his super power. In reality, he just had the power to talk with them and convince them to do what he wanted, because animals were pretty gullible. Like that time, he convinced those birds that windows only exist if you believe in them. That was before, though. Before he had really started listening to the animals, learning their hopes and dreams, even learning that it was considered good luck to poop on a freshly washed car. Now he found himself all about animals and not able to eat them. The Outdoorsman who was the representative of everything manly and sponsored by Cabela’s was nothing more than a vegan hippie. He cared about things like water pollution because fish lived in water and they were really funny.

“Hey! Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, can you say it again?” the Outdoorsman asked.

We need you to summon every rat, every pigeon and every stray cat and dog and we need them to pile onto that bomb and absorb the blast.

“You want me to have every animal in the city sacrifice its life so they city won’t have to be without internet for a few days?”

“God, No!” said El Capitan. “Not every animal. Just the ones that nobody loves.”

The Outdoorsman’s face turned into a grimace. “I’m sorry I can’t do that. My power doesn’t work like that.”

El Capitan looked around, giving a little sniff before looking directly into the Outdoorsman’s eyes. “I don’t care how your powers work. Figure it out. I’ll be damned if I’m missing the season finale of Firefly.”

“Hell yeah, eighteen seasons and still going strong.” Mayor Barlow said, holding up a hand for a high five.

El Capitan ignored it.

“It just keeps getting better and better,” the Mayor added, to cover up his embarrassment as he lowered his hand.

“Can’t you just punt that thing into orbit?” The Outdoorsman asked.

“Look, I could do a lot of things but all of them would require me getting my suit dirty and I have a photo op with that fine reporter over there.” He motioned toward a reporter, who was looking back with a smile. “So what it really comes down to is, do you want into the guild or not? Because if you don’t do this, I’m voting no and I’m going to convince every one I know to vote no. Then the only action you’ll be seeing is ribbon-cutting ceremonies for new Cabela’s stores. And that’s only if they keep you around after you wash out.”

“I won’t send helpless animals to die,”

El Capitan put a hand on Bret’s shoulder and pulled him in tight. “Look. None of them will get hurt. It’s an EMP bomb, not a real bomb. It doesn’t explode. It just sends out a pulse that destroys electronics. I just need the animals to absorb that pulse. They will be fine.”

“I don’t know.”

“The wave isn’t harmful to living things, just electronics. The animals are just going to make sure that the wave doesn’t go more than maybe a city block. It’s no more dangerous than playing at the beach.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” said the Outdoorsman. He turned to his tried-and-true falcon. “Falcor, get me every available bird, rodent, cat and dog in the city and have them cover that round object.

Falcor looked at him with a glare, “Once again, I must remind your that I can only talk to other birds.”

“I know that,” Outdoorsman said, in the hawk’s native tongue. Well it sounded like hawkenese to someone who had no idea what hawks were saying, but in reality it was just a bunch of gibberish that was insulting to all hawks everywhere. He had found out long ago that it didn’t matter what he said, as what he was projecting with his mind. Yet he couldn’t actually speak to animals telepathically. “I’m just putting on a show for the others can you please go tell the birds? I’ll go take care of the others.”

“Fine, as long as you know.”

“Thanks, Falcor.”

“And stop calling me Falcor, my name is Poopybum.”

“Yeah, I’m never calling you that. I’ve told you it doesn’t translate well.”

“Whatever,” Poopybum said before flying off.

The Outdoorsman looked at El Capitan and Mayor Bradsworth. “Excuse me for a moment, nature calls,” he said before trotting off down the alley.

“You know, I think the best part of his persona is that he gets to pee anywhere and people totally accept it as natural.”

El Capitan ignored him.

Down the alley where the Outdoorsman was finally alone, he pulled out his cellphone.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Come on.”

The answering machine kicked on. It was short and sweet. “Leave a message.” BEEP.

“Gary. Gary? Are you there? You better be there. I need your help. Go tell all the stray cats to go to Broadway and 4th. Crap, sorry, cats can’t read. Tell them to come to.” BEEP. The phone cut out. “Crap.” He quickly redialed.

The mayor turned to El Capitan. “Do you think he’s ok?”

“Yeah, he’s probably just peeing on himself.”

“Gary, you better be there. I need you to go too.” He looked around dumpsters, buildings, statue holding a giant bomb. “You know that place with the statue of a human holding a giant hair ball that you said was proof that humans thought of cats as their gods? Tell them to go to that place. Tell them there’s a can of tuna for everyone that shows. Tell them that.” BEEP. He hung up and hoped that was enough. He started to head back when he heard some scurrying coming from the dumpsters.

“Is there someone over there?”

“Maybe, who’s asking?” A small voice replied. Followed by a rat poking his head out from behind one of the dumpsters. “It’s a human.”

“Yes, I’m a human,” Bret said, bored with the conversation, having already had it with every new animal he had come across.

“And he speaks Rataneese. Jeffery, you have to get over here and check this guy out.” Another rat poked his head out, who Bret assumed was Jeffery. It wasn’t. It was Kyle.

“What? No way.”

Bret gave a little wave. “Hello.”

“Holy crap it’s a human.”

“Oh there’s more of you?” Bret asked.

“Well clearly. Were rats. We’re not exactly known for being solitary animals.”

Bret shrugged. He guess that was true. He hadn’t really thought about it before.

“Really Jeffery? You’re not even a little shocked to see a talking human?” The first rat asked.

“Well, it has to be that guy, doesn’t?” Jeffery replied.

“That guy? The one that speaks to animals?”

Bret nodded. He was indeed that guy.

“The Outdoor Pooper?” Kyle asked.

“No. Outdoor Sam,” Jeffery said.

“It’s the outdoorsman,” Bret corrected.

“That’s what I said,” Jeffery replied.

Bret let it go. He was running short on time. “I need your help.”

“Why would we help a human?” Jeffery asked.

“Yeah, why would we help a human?” Repeated the first rat.

“Shut up Dave.”

Dave shut up.

“How about because we give you all this wonderful food?” Bret asked, motioning to the dumpsters.

“You invented cats,” Jeffery retorted.

Bret didn’t know how to respond. Humans hadn’t invented cats, but he wasn’t sure how to explain that to the rats, and he wasn’t sure they would believe him if he could. “How about if I give you cheese?”

“Why the heck would we do it for cheese?” Jeffery asked.

“Because you love cheese?”

“No we don’t. We love meat. Screw cheese. Give me a well aged steak in a day.”

“I like raccoon,” Kyle said.

“Sure Kyle. Everyone loves raccoon but how often do you find a dead raccoon in the city? Never. That’s how often.”

“Ok. How about I get you some spoiled meat?” Bret asked.

“Well aged,” Jeffery corrected.

“Whatever.”

“What kind do you have?”

“You do this task for me and I’ll go get you whatever kind you want.”

“Go get it first,” Jeffery said.

“How about I go get it while you’re doing the task?” Bret asked.

“Fine. What do you want?”

“I need you guys to spread the word. Have everyone meet at the statue over there as soon they can have some food ready as soon as I get back from the store.”

“Bring us racoon!”

“Where is a human going to get raccoon, Kyle?”

“They have their human ways.”

“I’ll bring back whatever I can, guys. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”