William Darcy counted to ten very slowly. The truth was, he wasn't very happy at the moment. He was stuck, with his cousin, his best friend and his seven-year-old son in a rented car. And believe me, he wanted to get out.
"Uncle Richard! Daddy, Uncle Richard won't give me my Harry Potter book back!" Came a whiny voice from the back seat.
"Everything he says is a lie, I promise!" Came a not-so-whiny one from the same place.
"You know Darce, I really think you should've turned left..." Charles trailed off in the passenger seat.
And worst of all, he couldn't just ditch them on the curb and go home because he was in the middle of nowhere. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He was in the middle of Scotland, and just so you know, the middle of Scotland is a very non-descript place, which could easily be the middle of nowhere, especially if nowhere is terribly foggy.
"Daaaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyyy!" Fitzwilliam whined again, "I need to go to the bathroom!"
Oh, yes, Fitzwilliam was his son's name.
"Fitz, dear, wait a second, okay?" William pleaded, as he tried to prevent the car from crashing into a sheep. Fortunately for the sheep (and all animal lovers who are reading this) he was successful.
"I still can't believe you let Lizzy choose that name," Richard commented.
"Well, we all know who's in charge of that relationship!" Charles guffawed.
"Says the man who can't even choose a tie if Jane's not around." William countered. "Besides, you've never been on the receiving end of her bad temper, so you can't speak."
"But I have!" Richard protested, "Remember that time when I let Wickham..."
"Shhh!" William and Charles hissed at once.
"Who is Wickham, Daddy?" Fitz asked curious.
"Um, no one, darling. Just a friend of your Uncle's." His father answered quickly.
As the little boy lost all interest and looked out of the window, the three men sighed with relief. They couldn't let him know that his father was a superhero, the Hunk, who veiled for the security of Lambtomb, their hometown, or that his Uncle Richard was the alter ego of his companion, Colonel Studmuffin.
"So, which way do I turn now?" William asked Charles for the umpteenth time.
"Um, right! No, wait, left... right, um, this map is confusing!"
William sighed and took the map.
"Well Charles," he said, coldly, "Do you know why we've lost our way?"
"Er, no. Your bad driving?" Charles guessed.
"No, try again," William's tone would have frozen a volcano.
"I know! We're in the wrong place!"
"Closer, but no." Charles was beginning to feel cold.
"Um, I give up."
"YOU BOUGHT THE WRONG BLOODY MAP!!!!!" William's voice echoed on the Scottish hills. Richard and Fitzwilliam cowered in the backseat.
"I- I did?" Charles stuttered.
"Look here! It isn't a map of Scotland, it's a map of Shropshire!"
"You mean we're not in Shropshire?"
"CHARLES!!!!!!!"
Fitz and Richard were eagerly looking at them as Charles tried to avoid Will's hand, which was aiming at his neck.
"Who're you with?" Richard enquired.
"Daddy, of course," Fitz said knowingly, as only seven year olds can, "His muscles are bigger, Aunt Janey and Mummy always say so."
"What?!" Charles stared at him, leaving Will free to strangle him. He eventually released him, however, and tried to calm himself.
"Right, the only solution I can find is to ask someone where the heck we are," Will said, with a sigh.
"You mean, to ask for directions?" Richard was shocked.
"Well, yeah. Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Will, we are men. We don't ask for directions, even if our life depends on it. For God's sake, what an example to set for your child!" Richard covered Fitz's ears protectively.
"Fitz," Will said, as he uncovered his son's ears, "if you ever turn out to be like any of your uncles, I'll disinherit you. I swear I will."
"Don't worry, Daddy. I'm sure I already have a higher IQ than they have."
"That's my boy."
"Say, I saw a farm before. It can't be too far, perhaps we could stay the night and then tomorrow we could... Check if our information about our location is right," Richard seemed reluctant to utter the words 'ask for directions'.
"I believe that's the most intelligent comment you've made all day. Let's go,"
It took them only ten minutes to get to the farmhouse. It was quite big, with blue shutters and a carefully varnished front door. Will had to handle Fitz to Richard to ensure he didn't chase the several sheep that were calmly grazing around the house, taking a very mild interest in them. Charles knocked politely.
"Arr!" they heard a voice coming from inside the house, "Ya darn buggers! Comin' at this time o' night tryin' to steal me sheep, I'll be sure!"
"Um, please, sir?" Charles uttered tentatively, "We have had a... problem with our... sense of orientation and are in the need of..."
"Oh, shut up, Charles!" William snapped, "We've lost our way and need a place to stay the night. Do you think you could spare a room or two?"
"Merkins?" the voice inquired, stiffly.
"Yes," Richard said cheerfully, "bloody Americans, that's us!"
Will shot him an exasperated glance. "That isn't going to help, you moron!" he hissed.
"Aye, it ain't," said the voice, "but Oi was goin' ter help ye anyways."
"Thank you!" they all chorused, as the door opened.
They all gasped.
"Well? Are ye goin' ter come in or not? Oi dun't have all day."
The owner of the farm was a tall thin man, with soft, smiling features. His hair and eyes (not to mention beard) were black, and he wore thin-rimmed glasses. In short, nothing like the stout Scottish farmer everyone has in mind. He was wearing a kilt, though, perhaps to reassure people that he was indeed a Scottish farmer. A sort of 'And I have the kilt to prove it!' statement.
They all entered the farmhouse, and the farmer ushered them into the living room. It wasn't exactly elegant (in fact it was quite the contrary) but it was comfortable, and they all threw themselves onto the sofa.
"Well, are yer goin' ter tell me where yer from?" the farmer asked.
"We're from Lambtomb, a city near Washington," Will answered cheerfully.
It was unfortunate that every single one of our heroes (Yes, they are the heroes, no matter what that farmer will have you believe) was looking around, trying to ascertain where the loo was. For if they had been looking at the farmer, they would have seen his features twist into an angered and frightening expression. By the time they all looked at their host, his smile was back on his face.
"And may we know whose hospitality we're enjoying?" Richard asked, debonair as usual.
"The name's Adam, Adam Cuerden," a gust of wind made a scary, ululating sound.
"Um, that name sounds mighty familiar..." Charles said, scratching his head.
"Daddy, can I go and explore this huge and sinister house in hopes of finding something sinister?" Fitz eagerly asked.
"Ask Mr Cuerden, Fitz," another gust of wind whooshed.
"Can I? Can I? Please, please pretty please?"
"Arr! Alright, lad, but hear me, don't go to the attic, ye hear me?"
But Fitz had already run out of the room.
"He's a little... exuberant," Will apologised.
"Now, where have I heard that name before...?" Charles repeated softly.
"I'll go finish makin' supper, yer just lay down an' relax..." Adam (whoosh) said.
As the two cousins began to chat about Charles's stupidity with the map and Charles tried to make them understand that something very important was eluding him (but it always was, so they took no notice of him), Adam (roll of thunder) quietly exited the room, and followed Fitz's delighted cries.
Fitz, for his part, being the good and obedient little boy that he was (not) had, of course, gone straight to the attic. What he found there was very surprising.
"Who would've thought the old man had a giant TV with a Playstation 2?" he told himself.
What he saw then was even more surprising, for on the table there was a big greenish bottle, with a giant label which read, 'Potion to turn people into sheep that deceptively tastes of harmless Scottish meal'.
Any normal person would have ran down, screeching and warning the unsuspecting adults below about it. But, seven year olds aren't normal people, so when Adam (horses' neigh) came up, he found little Fitz turning on the television and trying to find a game for the Playstation 2. He barely turned around when he heard him enter.
"Where are the games?" Fitz asked.
"Listen, lad, Oi'm going ter turn yer folks inter sheep. The name of yer city is an abhorrrence, and Oi've decided that every zingle one of its inhabitants must be turned inter a sheep, and be used fer moi personal..." he hesitated, "use."
"Uh-huh. Where are the games?" Fitz repeated.
Adam (music from Psychosis) was startled, "Yer mean yer dun't care?"
"Listen, old man, I hate to repeat myself, where are the games?"
"Er, Oi only gots one. It's over there."
Fitz ran to the closet the farmer had indicated and retrieved the game. "The sheep shagger?" he asked, incredulously.
"Aye, good game, that one."
In five seconds, Fitz had transformed into a zombie, who could only stare at the sheep on the tv screen and jerk maniacally at the control pad, while muttering "Five more sheep to shag and I'll get to the next level!"
Adam (rustle of chains) went down again and got the supper in the microwave. The four rations of 'The olde Scottish supper' were ready in no time, and he happily took them to the living room (in old, porcelain plates so they wouldn't suspect anything), but not before he had sprinkled three of them with the ultimately... sheepish? Secret potion he kept in the attic. He was laughing (malignantly, of course) mentally, as he went into the living room.
"Here yer go, lad!"
Charles and Richard jumped on the food. Like pigs. Like very hungry, very rude pigs.
"Thanks a lot!" Richard said as he munched happily away.
"Say, where's that little person? My son?" Will asked suddenly, watching how his friends gobbled up a part of the contents of the farmer's larder.
"Er, he's er, playin'. Aye, he was playing, and I went ter look fer him and he was asleep."
"Oh," Will thought for a second, "Say, could I give my wife a call? She's in this little place called Kippen. We were supposed to meet her there."
"Arr. Roight, there's the phone."
William reached for the phone, and looked at it, puzzled, for a moment. It had wool on it. In fact, the phone had the shape of a big, grinning sheep.
"Uh, interesting... phone," Will said, lamely.
"Arr!"
"You know, Richard, I simply know I've heard that name before..." Charles said for the umpteenth time.
"Uh-huh, Charles. Say, Mr Cuerden," the sheep started to... um, make sheepish noises, "Are there any chicks around here?"
"Arr?" he scratched his head, "Only those in old McCallahan's hencoop, that Oi know of..."
Meanwhile, in Kippen...
"Where are they?" Lizzy exclaimed, as she tried to get up. Of course, due to her swollen and very pregnant belly, this turned out to be a bad idea.
"Don't worry, Lizzy, I'm sure they'll be fine. After all, if they're capable of fighting against all the criminals in Lambtomb, they can surely get here. They will, you'll see, eventually," Jane tried to calm her sister.
"But... It's getting dark, and I want my baby here with me!" Lizzy wailed.
"Don't worry, Will will be here soon..." Jane said, patting her shoulder.
"I meant Fitz!" Lizzy snapped, "Although I'd be happy to see my husband, too."
Just then, the phone rang.
"Yes?" Lizzy said, answering the phone.
"Hi, darling! It's me."
"Will! Where are you?"
"Um, I'm not sure. Listen, we're staying with a very kind man, a farmer. Charles got us lost, but we'll get there tomorrow."
"You'd better move that cute butt of yours here tomorrow, love, and our son's, or I'm naming our daughter Augusta!"
"You wouldn't dare!" Will stuttered.
"Oh, yes I would! I love you," she added more tenderly.
"So do I, love. I've got to leave now, see you tomorrow?"
"Of course. Say hello to the boys for me."
"Will do. Bye!"
"Bye!"
Back at Sheepside Farm...
"I'm really, really sure I've heard that name before..." Charles muttered as the other two conversed with the farmer.
Suddenly, Will began to have a strange feeling. He could have sworn that Charles's hair wasn't that light. It looked... white. Positively white. And since when had his ears become so big? His thoughts were temporarily misled from this realisations by the fact that Richard and Charles had eaten his supper.
"Say, you are really bad friends!" he exclaimed.
"Baaaaaaaaaaaaad," said Richard.
"Yes, that's what I said, you filthy pigs!" Will stated, quite pissed off.
"Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeep," bleated Charles, "Sheeeeeeeeepish sheeeeeeeeeeperd!"
"Honestly, what a load of crap! You're not making any sense!" William scoffed, lifting his gaze from his empty dish. What he saw gave him Goosebumps.
Richard and Charles were no longer there. Or at least, not technically. In their places Will now saw a pair of sheep, full-grown and pathetic-looking sheep. And there was Adam (Charles's and Richard's sheep versions bleated) with what could only be described as an evil grin on his face. William did what any good superhero does when confronted with a situation like this one.
He bolted.
Of course, Will was no coward, and he had only made a strategic retreat to think of a plan. But first, he had to change his clothes. Or rather, take them off, for he always (or at least in winter, in a cold place like Scotland) wore his superhero costume under his normal clothes. He took his mask out of his trousers' pocket and put it on. It was then when he realised that a part of his ensemble was missing. His boots were in the car's boot. And it wasn't the right time to go and fetch them, so there he was, in full Hunk gear, and trainers. It wasn't an ideal situation, but then, this one couldn't get any worse, could it?
"Come me dearies!" the farmers voice came from the living-room, "Oi'll take yer to the rest of moi multicoloured fleeced harem, and then... Oi'll go and fetch yer friend... and put a few pounds of wool on him! Mwahahahahaha!"
Ok, so it had got worse. The farmer's maniac laughter did nothing to calm The Hunk. In fact, nothing but a solution AND his boots could calm the Hunk now. He tentatively tried to search the house, realising his only son was somewhere inside the damned place and probably scared out of his wits. And then, probably not. When The Hunk reached the attic, he found his son, still glued to the Playstation.
"Fitz! We have to get out of here!"
That seemed to snap the kid out of his reverie (although he didn't release the controller) and made him look at him.
"The Hunk? What are you doing here? And why are you wearing my dad's trainers?"
"It's a very long story, sonny. I have to rescue your family before that lunatic comes back."
"Oh. What's happened to them?"
"They got turned into sheep."
"Oh." Fitz was silent for a second, "It wouldn't have anything to do with that bottle over there, right?"
The Hunk took a look at it and sighed, "Oh, it looks like we're doomed! We'll never find the antidote!"
"We can look around here," Fitz said, as he finally got up and looked about the several shelves that the room contained.
"Sonny, believe me, only someone who has absolutely no common sense would leave the antidote in full view and in the same room where the poison is!"
Fitz arched one eyebrow (which made him look a lot like Elizabeth) and handed The Hunk a bottle with the label 'Antidote for Potion to turn people into sheep that deceptively tastes of harmless Scottish meal'.
"Ok, so maybe I overestimated this farmer guy."
Adam (insert any ominous sign/sound of your choice) walked to the farmhouse, rubbing his hands gleefully. He now had two more sheep, and soon he would turn the whole population of Lambtomb into bleating animals that were dumb enough to actually like him.
Yes, life was good.
The moment he got into the farmhouse, however, it turned out to be downright rotten. Someone pinned his arms to he sides, and made him drink of a bottle that was suspiciously familiar. He had locked the door before leaving, but he now saw that he had underestimated his opponent.
The Hunk and Fitz looked at him while he transformed.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarr!" he bleated pitifully.
The former farmer, now bleating brute extraordinaire, ran for all he was worth towards the barn next to the farmhouse.
"He won't get very far," The Hunk said, as his cape floated with the wind, "Now, we must rescue your family."
They walked towards the pen where a whole crowd of sheep looked at them with awe.
"How do I know which of them is my dad, or my uncle?" Fitz asked.
"Um, your dad?" The Hunk said, confused.
"Yup. He's bound to be there, isn't he? That one over there sort of has his stern face..."
"No, no, no, your dad is safe, he is, um, hidden."
"You mean he ran away? He's a coward?"
"No, I told him I would sort things out and then, as he didn't want to stay where I left him, because he was worried sick about you, I knocked him out. But he'll be ok."
"Oh."
Two sheep started butting the rest apart until they came right in front of The Hunk. They tried to lick his hands (nearly eating them in the process to be more accurate) and tried to get out of the pen.
"I think we found them, sonny."
They fed them the antidote, and Charles and Richard returned to their normal selves.
"Hunk!" Charles exclaimed, "I know where I saw that guy before! He's a mad scientist in his free time! He's the one who helped us with his Sheperdinator!"
"What's a Sheperdinator?" Fitz asked.
As the Hunk was about to answer, they heard a very loud noise. The door of the barn exploded and a robot came out of it. Inside of it and controlling it was... a sheep. An evil-faced, very angry sheep.
"Uh-oh..." The Hunk gasped.
"Hunk, listen! We can destroy it!" Fitz squeaked excitedly.
"Um, not to dampen your enthusiasm or anything, kid, but there's no way the Hunk can manage something that big!" Richard said.
"If a couple of furry muppets can defeat the Imperial troops with spears and slings, we can do this!" Fitz assured, "Just listen to my plan..."
The Sheperdinator was getting dangerously close... But when the sheep named Adam thought he had won, Fitz started to run around the robot. It stood on two legs, and Adam (roll of thunder) realised that Fitz had tied them together, it was too late. The robot fell to the ground with a loud crash, and it exploded, sending its occupant into the air... And into the neighbour's property.
"Well, that's my boy! You were incredible, son!" The Hunk beamed at Fitz.
"Thanks, dad!" he piped.
"Only giving credit where it's... Hey! I'm not your father!"
"Sure, dad, as if I couldn't recognise you!" Fitz rolled his eyes.
"Oh, ok, but don't tell your mother that you know or she'll skin me alive. Let's get the car!"
"Hmmmmm... Say, dad, how does 'The Hunky' sound to you for a superhero's name?"
As Adam the sheep regained consciousness, he saw a face he knew only too well. MacDuff, his neighbour was wearing a T-shirt with the words "Ah'm a wee Scottish Sheepshagger" written on it. If he'd had any doubts, now he had none about his neighbours' sexual tendencies.
"Come, my sweet," MacDuff smiled, evilly, "Join your friends in the pen... I'll take care of you tomorrow!"
Adam pondered... "Baa?"