Howard the Duck in "Road Trip"
By Matt Ryan
The open road. It's really the only place a man can find peace, solace, and simplicity. The sounds of rushing automobiles fill the senses with enough exuberance to perhaps drown out the utterly foul smell of car exhaust. Speaking of fouls, or rather, fowls, that's where we find ourselves today, peaking in on a little-examined denizen of the great big Marvel Universe.
"Sheesh, you'd figure I could make it a least ten friggin' miles without hittin' this much traffic. Open road my tail feathers!"
Our star today is little Howard the Duck, though his life, by normal standards, has been anything but little. Howard's been a hero and savior, fighting everyone from Dracula to Galactus, and he's been a constant companion (well, if you ask them, a constant pest, but who's counting?) to such heroes as Spider-Man and... uh, Artie and Leech?
Nonetheless, we find Howard has taken up a job as a truck driver in order to make ends meet. On this fateful trip, he's... well, why not let Howard himself explain?
"Stupid rasssafraggin' Archer," Howard yelled to no one in particular, "He sends me halfway across the country to deliver some mysssssterious cargo. I oughta just take a look at it just to stick it to that hillbilly... but nah, I'm a duck of my word, and that just wouldn't be kosher! I got a reputation to uphold!
"Well... I think I got a reputation to uphold."
The traffic was maddening. Of course, driving through downtown Manhattan in an eighteen-wheeler wasn't helping matters much, especially with the Fantastic Four having just come back from some Latverian hootenanny. The news crews were out in full force, not to mention the amount of police cars. It seemed to be a gala affair... with tanks. At least it had better have been a gala affair to cause so much traffic.
"You'd think bein' so 'fantastic,'" Howard began again, "They could... ya know, come up with hover cars or some crap. Why should I have to be-?"
Howard's words and immensely rude gestures stopped suddenly, as the waterfoul looked to his left and stared at the armored being slowly and silently walking past his truck, seemingly uncaring of the many vehicles around him.
"Aw, crackers!" Howard squawked, "A traffic jam AND a friggin' pedestrian walkin' through the road. I always hated that pedestrians get the right of way crap, and now I remember why."
Howard sighed and reached for his CB radio, calling into his boss for help.
"Archer," Howard sighed, "It's Howard. Got what looks like it could be some kinda supertype walkin' in front of me. Any idea what it is?"
U.S. Archer, former space-trucker turned entrepreneur, quickly scoured the news services at his beck and call. While he was a dispatcher, he was a very resourceful dispatcher.
"Yeah, we got 'im," Archer replied, "He's a Fantastic Four guy."
"Well, you're certainly at the top of your game, Archer. I'M ON FRIGGIN' YANCY, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT!"
"Pipe down, Daffy. His name's Psycho Man. He can control emotions or somethin' of the like."
Howard jumped out of his seat at that.
"Emotions, huh?" he asked, smiling as much as a duck bill would allow one to smile, "Spider-Man and I kicked some emotion guy's tail a few years back. I figure the FF can handle this jabroni."
"Actually, Howard, the FF ain't in town yet. They're currently on Staten Island, signin' some wavers, deals with the city an' stuff. So you'll probably be stuck there for hours."
Howard moaned and let his head fall onto the horn. Hours! How could this be? All Howard wanted was to get this crap job over with and perhaps saddle up in a bathtub next to a nice, cozy dirty magazine. Now he was going to have to wait HOURS for that?
"Nuh-uh!" exclaimed Howard, "Ain't happenin'!"
Howard leaped from his cab and looked to his right. The Psycho Man had made it pretty far while Howard was taking no action, as he was around 500 feet in front of the duck's truck. Howard rolled up his sleeves and stomped after the Psycho Man, garnering strange reactions from the other people stuck in the traffic jam.
"What, ya ain't never seen a humanoid duck from an alternate dimension where everyone is a duck before?"
Howard reached Psycho Man seconds before he decided that this was an incredibly dumb idea. Obviously, this guy wasn't really your average, run of the mill, Paste Pot Pete kind of Fantastic Four villain. He looked kind of like a big, apokalyptic villain from some other comic company, just with an awful color scheme added in for, well, bad measure. Howard, seconds too late to back out now, realized that it was time to put up or shut up, as he tapped the Psycho Man on the back.
"Pardon me, buddy," Howard began, "But, uh, couldn't you walk on the side of the road? You're causin' traffic to move slower than it already was."
Hearing this, the assembled stalled drivers began to cheer! Howard was doing the one thing they'd been thinking of doing for the past thirty minutes.
Quickly, the Psycho Man spun around, his eyes flashing red. The cheers quickly turned into tears, then into jeers, and finally into snores, which Howard didn't like because it didn't continue the rhyme scheme.
"What's wrong, P-Man?" Howard asked, "I know ya hate the FF, but why ya gotta be so... I dunno, rude, I guess?"
"It really does not matter," the Psycho Man muttered, "Not much matters at all anymore. I have lost control over my powers. You see, I used to use a machine to control emotions, but I dropped it one day and the powers transferred to my body, and now... ah, I do not feel like explaining it."
"Sounds like ya just did," Howard replied, "So what, you want Mr. Fantastic's help in fixin' you or somethin'?"
"Well," Psycho Man sighed, "I did want to kill him, but see, since I cannot control my powers, I have been effected by them as well. I have been stricken with intense feelings of apathy, and I have not found the motivation to rid myself of this curse. I can barely find the motivation to walk. I really do not even know why I am talking to you at all."
Howard looked at the Psycho Man in confusion. The poor schlub had already defeated himself, so at least Howard didn't have to worry about that. However, now he was beginning to feel sorry for the villain.
"Well, here, why don't I give ya a ride to see the FF?" Howard suggested, "Reed Richards could surely fix ya right up and then... well, uh, and then you'd try to kill 'im, huh?"
"You see my predicament better than I ever could, fowl," Psycho Man moped, "I am certain I could help myself... I just do not want to."
Howard sat Indian style next the Psycho Man, who couldn't even be bothered to sit down. Howard racked his brain, but his calm was suddenly broken as he realized the other drivers had finally awoken and were ready to move again.
"Listen, Psych'," said Howard, "Howsabout you just sit in the trailer of my truck. I can go make my delivery and then afterwards, I'll... uh, try an' help ya, how's that?"
"I do not care," the Psycho Man muttered, "whatever you want."
Howard dragged the Psycho Man along with him and forced him into the trailer. After closing the door, Howard realized traffic had finally begun moving. Perhaps Howard would make it to Florida by nightfall! Aside from the depressed emotion monster in the back, Howard thought that it might not turn out to be such a bad day after all.
The sign read "CITRUSVILLE - 0.5 MILES" and it was definitely a relief to Howard. The drive had been long and arduous, what with other drivers on the road going through incredibly heavy mood swings. Howard was reminded of his passenger every step of the way. Every time he stopped to get a bit to eat, the clerk was either too angry or far too sad to serve him. Howard began to wonder if ANYONE was ever happy around the Psycho Man.
Howard continued to drive, the sun setting over the trees that permeated the Florida Everglades. Alligators filled the surrounding swamps, but Howard payed them no heed. He merely wanted to deliver his cargo and take a much-needed nap.
Finally arriving at his destination, Howard looked around.
"What is this, a joke?" he asked aloud, "This is just some dingy shack! Doesn't look like anyone's lived here for years! Archer better not have gipped me, 'cause I'm countin' on this commission and-"
The familiar, low-pitched growling didn't startle Howard for a moment. However, the gigantic plop that forced Howard to the ground did. The duck looked up with his muck-covered eyes and looked up at some more muck, but not just any muck, this was a muck-monster... one who protects the Nexus of all Realities.
"You?" Howard yelled, looking at the Man-Thing, "Don't tell me that... I'm deliverin' somethin' to you? Lame. I was hopin' for some big corporation or somethin'. Someone who'd at least tip."
The Man-Thing looked confused, as he often is apt to look, and then seemed to purr a bit. He grabbed Howard's hand, lifted it up, and slapped a ball of muck into it.
"Well thanks loads, Man-Dork," Howard sighed, "I guess this tip is 'don't ever wear nice clothes around the Man-Thing.' Ah well, c'mon, lemme get your stuff."
Howard led the Man-Thing to the back of the truck. He lifted the door, where they found the Psycho Man sitting in a puddle of his own drool. At the mere sight of the Psycho Man, the Man-Thing, emotionally sensitive bugger that he is, began to flip out. Howard's eyes widened as the Man-Thing leapt into the truck and, using the entirety of his mucky form, enveloped the Psycho Man.
"Aw, crimeny!" Howard cried, "Now I'm gonna have to clean all that up!"
The Man-Thing payed Howard no heed, however, and tossed the Psycho Man out of the truck. Covered in the Man-Thing's mystical marshy muck, the villain stood up, wiping it off of him.
"I..." he stuttered, "I have no idea what... what this thing did, but I... I am cured! It seems that this beast has drained all the outward emotions from me, and left me with only emotions that are of my own creation! This is fantastic! This is... why are you both staring at me?"
"'cause," Howard smiled, "Those who know fear, yadda yadda yadda, burn at the Man-Thing's touch. It's his schtick. He burns people who fear, and you were sendin' out lots of emotions, not the least of which is fear. So he started to burn ya and... well...
"You're naked, Psycho Man."
The Psycho Man's orange skin began to turn red as he covered up his naughty bits.
"I... um, I thank you for your assistance, denizens of Earth," the naked nogoodnik muttered, "I will now teleport myself back to my home in the Microverse, and create a new emotion projector. And... also I shall gain a new suit of armor. Farewell, Earthlings."
With that, the Psycho Man somehow teleported away. Howard and the Man-Thing looked at eachother, shrugging.
"Well, at least I did some good today," Howard said to his green friend, "I helped an insane dictator find himself... or somethin' like that. An' I also finished makin' this delivery. And I've gotta know, Man-Thingy, what the heck is in this box?"
The Man-Thing, still inside Howard's truck, quickly pulled the lid off the box Howard had been carrying. Howard waddled up to the box, which seemed to be emitting a bright glow, and looked inside. This was followed by Howard emitting a high-pitched wail.
"WAUGH!" Howard cried, running out the back of the truck and into his cab. He grabbed the CB radio and yelled at his dispatcher.
"Archer!" Howard yelled, "You sent me over a thousand miles in order to deliver some... some COOKIES to a MONSTER!"
"Well, Howie," Archer replied, smiling, "The Man-Thing can't leave his swamp, an' he loves mah coconut macaroons, so I always like to give him a box every-"
Howard's head fell into the horn once more, and the Man-Thing shuddered at his sudden depression. Howard reflected on how he'd helped stop an evil supervillain... all for some cookies.
"Ah well," Howard sighed, "At least I'll have the road back. I can always count on the open road to take away all my troubles."
Howard thought back on what he had just said, and with a loud WAUGH, he let his head fall back into the horn again.
The End