Ask the Captain Special: Chiaroscuro

The Captain vs. The Suff

Editorial Note: this story was inspired by a new urban legend that’s sprung up around Substack of late, beginning with

Jeff Kinnard

and spiraling on from there.

The Chronicler

has put together a useful timeline, to which I humbly submit the below report just handed me.

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Dear Captain,

I do not often put pen to paper, but I fear I must report that something is terribly wrong in Edison City, or it is about to be. I have sensed it. I cannot stop sensing it. That alone is cause for concern.

Let me explain. As a telepath, I know how to block out other people’s thoughts. It’s an ability essential to us; otherwise we’d be lost in the ocean of the psyches all around us. We would lose ourselves, you see. So as long as I can remember I have maintained psychic blocks that keep out stray thoughts, the background noise of the people I walk past on the street, the unconscious desires and emotions floating around in the world.

I am very good at this. I have to be, you understand. If something gets past my defenses, it must be important, or dangerous.

Last night, I felt something. A mere picture at first, a darkness, a scratching inescapable fear… and then I saw him, a tall man with impossibly wide arms and impossibly short legs all wrapped in darkness and the words kept repeating the suff the suff the suff and then-

I threw every psychic block I have into place. I hope I stopped it. If I didn’t- Captain, if that thing gets into our reality….. God help us all.

-Audrey

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He was already in flight. Super Soccer Mom had stayed behind, watching the kids and trying frantically to repair Seymour, her cybernetically enhanced soccer ball, who had mysteriously shorted out hard after transmitting the last lines of Audrey’s message. Captain Happily Married knew where Audrey was likely to be; the Phenomenal Four had a regular meeting place and she’d likely taken refuge there. The other three could assist as well, unless- it suddenly occurred to the Captain that the Phenomenal Four had a shared email list. Suppose they had all been affected by this whatever-it-was? “Surely not!” he said to himself. “It’s a mere urban legend! A folklore! Like a Woozle or the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants!”

Then he swung around the last skyscraper and dropped into the parking lot outside the Phenomenal Four, and there they were, Audrey, Lucy, Trina, and Natalie, only they had all linked arms and were chanting in unison, “The Suff the Suff the Suff the Suff.”

Captain Happily Married gasped in horror. “Heavens to Bess Truman! They’ve succumbed to the unholy powers of darkness! There’s only one thing to do!” He rarely had cause to use it, and saved it for the most dire need, but if ever there was a dire situation, this was it.

The Captain reached for a secret compartment on his utility belt. With movements born of practiced speed and superhuman skill he twisted together the wax cylinder and the padamantium holder he’d acquired from Titanium-Alloy Guy, lit the small wick at one end, and took aim.

“Have you ever heard of William Lonsdale Watkinson?” he asked casually.

“The Suff the Suff the-wha?” the Phenomenal Four paused in bewilderment.

“Yet is it far better to light the candle than to curse the darkness!” he said, and hurled the unity candle with incredible accuracy at the nigh-invisible shrouded figure that had been hovering just behind Audrey. There was a terrific bang, a flash of light, a chorus of angelic voices singing Alleluia and a ringing of bells (that was the unity candle), and then a howling scream that faded away to silence.

Audrey shook her head, and blinked hard, as did the others.

“What just happened?” she asked, telepathically as usually.

“Oh, you might say,” said Captain Happily Married, “I was… insufferable.”