The man was ten times stronger than an elephant. In Peru they used to call him “Golpe de Piedra”. His show was magnificent. He would bend iron columns with his bare hands and smash cement blocks to dust. Now he was in hell. He was delivering insanely discounted furniture to idiots. Only idiots would buy cheap imitations of bad furniture and have it delivered. What a shame. He flexed his muscles and smashed a small coffee table to pieces.

“Sir, excuse me. You’re going to have to pay for that…” said a feeble little man dressed like a penguin. However, he never really finished his last sentence. The muscle man raised his massive hand and smashed another table. His eyes were wild and worried. He appeared both mad and afraid, like a caged wild animal ready to ram his way out of the cage.

“John, Johnny, my man. You know this big guy works with us. It was an accident. Isn’t that right Marcos?” said the devil himself, Mr. Hussein. A smart mouth salesman that now owned the furniture store. He had a thing for misfits because he believed he was one as well. The devil just smiled right at the giant brute and with confidence calmed his wild spirit.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry. Can I go get lunch now?” responded Marcos in a childish voice often reserved for Mr. Hussein. He nodded at Marcos and looked straight at John. The little penguin man looked at him with big scared eyes.

“John, you’re fired.” said Mr. Hussein. John was about to cry but was quickly interrupted by laughter. “I’m kidding you big baby. But, seriously, you’re going to have to pay for one of those tables. You just don’t say that to a giant man with arms the size of your waist. Plus, you know him. It’s hard to forget Marcos, he’s a freaking elephant of a man. I’ll take it out of your salary ok.” John didn’t say a word. All you could hear in the store was his muted whimpering and the hurried footsteps of Mr. Hussein.

Outside of the store people were gathering to see Marcos eat his lunch. He didn’t mind the attention but was worried about what his boss would say of all the fuss. He was planning on eating his lunch that way everyday. Today he had turkey, ham and watermelon. Actually more accurately it was a large whole turkey, a giant ham in the bone, and an oversized watermelon, probably a lunch for ten or more. He would munch away and smile for the occasional camera flash. The hurried footsteps of Mr. Hussein were approaching the front door and people began to dissipate.

“Are you planning on feeding a small army Marcos?” said Mr. Hussein, “More importantly are you going to be eating this feast for the duration of your shift, because I didn’t know I was paying you to eat massive amounts of food in front of a crowd of idiots.”

“Hey…” shouted someone in the crowd.

“Did he just say we were a bunch of idiots?” said another one in the crowd.

“I’m sorry sir. I’ll finish up right now,” he swallowed most of the ham and the watermelon. Then he took the half-empty carcass of the turkey and tossed it to a pack of dogs.

Mr. Hussein hurried to the back of the store and grabbed a cane that was placed next to his office. He entered the back room with caution and then began to smash his cane against a metal pipe.

“Wake up you bum!” shouted Mr. Hussein who was wearing a red jacket with black dress pants. He looked like a circus ringmaster without a mustache.

“What, what, plagiarism, procrastination, palindrome, palingenesis, what?!” shouted a man from inside an empty sofa box. Clay, the janitor turned on the lights and stared blankly at Mr. Hussein. Clay was a slow-paced crinkly old man that most of the time had his tongue out like a dog. Both of them looked confused and were waiting for the “bum” to come out.

“Uhhh, words that start with p, uhh, argh,” said Clay as he slowly turned around and exited the room.

“Jeff, get out of that box and start working. Go with Marcos and deliver some furniture. You know, the job I pay you to do.” shouted Mr. Hussein. A guy with long brown hair, unshaved and with big vintage sunglasses came out of the box. He was wearing a blue uniform shirt with short white surfer pants. “I will not hesitate to use force in order to get you out of this room.”

“Whatever, that aggression won’t stand… or something like that. I saw it in a movie. I’m up. What? Plagiarism? Is this hell?” said Jeff as he stumbled out of the box and from a smaller box a tiny longhaired Chihuahua came out wearing a tutu. He called him Chuck.

“Why the hell is that dog wearing a tutu?” asked Hussein.

“Chuck knows what he did!” shouted Jeff at the dog. The little mutt whines at his owner and walked away with his tail between his legs.

“If I find even the slightest bit of feces in this room I will have that dog’s anus sewed up,”

“OK, Mr. Dictator what is this important mission you want me to perform with the mutant over there?” Jeff stumbled a bit after saying that and grabbed the dog from the floor.

Mr. Hussein approached him quickly and grabbed his ear. He whispered loudly into his ear: “I am not Iraqi, I am not related to that man and for God’s sake don’t call him a mutant because I don’t want to clean up your brains if they are spattered all over the store. I’m sure it wouldn’t be much to clean but nonetheless an annoying task.” The devil released Jeff’s ear and with the cane swung at the back of the bum’s leg. “Now go, get to work you bum!” he shouted.

“Ouch! What the… you know… man… I’m sure violence isn’t the appropriate way of dealing with employees. We are not in the Middle Ages,” said Jeff as he rubs the back of his leg. “I mean…” but before he could finish the sentence the devil raised his cane and that was enough to shut him up. “OK, yes sir! Fucking plagiaristic fascist” he murmured.

In the store, Marcos was sitting in a sofa taking up all the space while Clay was vacuuming the sofa next to him. They both look towards the door and appeared mesmerized. She was coming. The bells from the door ran and the sound of her heals caught Mr. Hussein’s attention. His hurried footsteps blended with the confident sound of her walk.

“Look who decided to come in today? Tell me why shouldn’t I fire you now Mrs. Devon?” said Mr. Hussein as she passes him by like if he didn’t exist.

“Maybe because I’m your accountant and I know the secret of your success or maybe because you like having me around?” she said with a soft confident voice. She had the kind of sexy that was dangerous. She was voluptuous, curvy and always dressed in black. Her hair was auburn and her eyes a bit slanted. It also seemed like she never wore a bra, everyone noticed.

“Extortion, selfishness, recklessness, and greed. How do you sleep at night Mrs. Devon?” responded Mr. Hussein.

“Obviously not with you or anyone in this store. I would probably get a rash from touching one of you freaks. But enough of this, let’s get down to business. You need to advertise more. The store a few blocks from here is winning the ad game,” she said as she took out a briefcase. “What are we going to do?”

“We should change the name. People don’t even know it’s a furniture store,” said Jeff as he picked a cheese puff out of his hair and ate it.

“There’s nothing wrong with Hussein’s Hidden Treasures!” protested Mr. Hussein.

“The stoner Jesus is right. We need a new name,” said Mrs. Devon. “That one sounds like a place the military would bomb.”

“How about Furniture Store,” said John from behind a black entertainment set.

“Wow… I’m sorry John but can you use your inside voice for now,” said Mr. Hussein and John mumbled something as he turned around.

“Man, we should call it: The Cheap Stuff Furniture,” shouted Jeff as he walk towards Mrs. Devon.

“No, and step back. I don’t want to get infected with whatever it is you have,” responded Mrs. Devon. The bells from the front door made a faint noise and low video game music caught Marcos attention.

“Dipti!” shouted Marcos.

“Hey big guy wasup?” said Dipti as she high fives Marcos. She had a hoodie, jeans, tennis shoes and a portable video game system that seemed to be part of her hands.

“You’re late! What the hell happened?” asked Mr. Hussein.

She passed right by him and nodded to Jeff. “What’s up? Why is everyone gathered here?” she said just before she pulled her hoodie back. Her hair was curly and a bit wild. She never lost eye contact with the video game in her hands.

“We’re going to change the name of the store to,” said Jeff, then he raised his arms in the air “The Cheap Stuff Furniture!” he shouted victoriously. Then Mr. Hussein smacked him with the cane and took Dipti’s video game.

“Why does it always seem like I’m not your boss but your teacher or father?” complained Mr. Hussein.

“Aww, you would be a terrible father,” said Mrs. Devon, “but I am surprised you have the heart to say you feel like a teacher or wow a father figure.”

“Maybe it’s true what they say, you might actually be Saddam Hussein. I heard he liked been a father figure,” said Jeff. Mr. Hussein smacked him again with the cane this time hard enough to leave a mark. “Fucking A can’t you take a joke; you crazy dictator.”

“Why not call the store: The Furniture Avengers?” suggested Dipti as she grabbed her video game from Mr. Hussein’s office. “You know like the comic books?”

“That sounds crazy enough to work. Throw in some costumes and we can beat this guy. I have no idea why people go to his store after they see his commercials. All he does is stand in front of his store and screams the word huge,” said Mrs. Devon.

“HUGEEEEEEEAAAA” shouted Dipti, Jeff, Marcos and Clay in unison.

“Ok…” murmured Mrs. Devon as she packed her suitcase. “Tomorrow we’ll shoot a new commercial. Bring costumes and please don’t look too creepy weird. Go for fun weird,” she said as she walked by Clay, “or at least try.”

In the morning, Mr. Hussein opened the store to find a man sleeping in one of the beds. He didn’t look like a bum. He looked more like a children’s magician, almost like a clown. Nonetheless, he picked up his phone and fake dialed the police.

“Hey! I’m calling the police right now! What are you doing here?” he screamed at the unknown man.

“What phone are you using to call them?” said the man without opening his eyes.

Mr. Hussein showed him the phone. The man leaped and grabs the cell phone. Then he quickly hid it under his sleeve. “I‘m the great magician around here! I appeared here because a beautiful witch summoned me. I’ve made your phone disappear. So beware… Uhhhhhh”

“No you didn’t, it’s in your sleeve and I’m going to call the cops,” Mr. Hussein responded. “Then I’m going to beat the…” before he could finish the bells in the door started to chime.

“Hey Steve, ready to shoot the commercial? Did you sleep here?” said Mrs. Devon as she entered the store.

“Maybe,” he said as he hid behind her. Mr. Hussein’s hand almost reached Steve’s face. He raised one of his eyebrows and then closed his eyes. “He better be cheap and he better give back my phone.”

“He‘s the only commercial director in town. Well, the only one within our budget. He’s also a children’s magician, did he tell you?” said Mrs. Devon as she took the phone off Steve’s hand and gave it to Mr. Hussein. “He did my nephew’s party the other day it was… interesting.”

“I heard. I’m also a bodybuilder and that Iraqi dictator,” responded Mr. Hussein as he walked to his office.

“Is he really the dictator,” said Steve after he grabbed his equipment, “he doesn’t look a thing like him.”

“Why on earth did you decide to sleep here?” asked Mrs. Devon.

“I didn’t have a place to go,”

“That’s not my problem. I let you in to unload the material and leave unnoticed,” she whispered at his ear.

“I’m sorry…”

“Fine, hurry up and get ready,” she shouted as she walked towards Mr. Hussein’s office. He was looking through his files and under his desk.

“Give me your keys Sara,” he said to Mrs. Devon. “I can’t believe you let some random guy sleep in my store. I trusted you.”

“I didn’t know. I let him in to get a feel of the place. You know how this directors are,” she said.

“He directs commercials…” he kept looking around his office to make sure nothing was missing, “…of crappy stores. How artistically accomplished can this man be?”

“Well, he’s cheap and owns the equipment. The commercial is going to cost us 50 less than it would if we hired anyone else,” afterwards she placed her keys on the desk.

“Oh, there it is,” he said. The man didn’t pay attention to her or the gesture of sadness she was making. All he could think of was his beloved golden monkey. Finally he found him and he relieved his arms. “Fine, but tell him I won’t dress up in costume.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this but you look like you are dressed up already,”

“What do you mean?” he said as he placed both hands on his desk.

“You look like a ringmaster, you know from the circus,” she said.

“Well, I’m not. This is a furniture store not some comic book fantasy,” he said.

“Sure,” she slowly turned her back and walked out of the office.

Clay was the first to arrive. After him everyone else arrived at least fifteen minutes late. He had a zombie costume with ketchup as blood. Marcos had a torn shirt and green pants. John was dressed up as a ghost, with just a white blanket with two holes for the eyes. Dipti was dressed up as a character from her favorite video game, Zoldar. However, her bow and arrow were real. Mr. Hussein was a bit nervous about it but when Jeff arrived all his worries focused on him.

Jeff was dressed up as Jesus, with a tinfoil aureola on his head. His little longhaired Chihuahua was wrapped like a baby in his hands, but not your typical baby of course. Jeff printed on a white piece of paper the words: “BABY JESUS” and then taped it to keep the wrap in place. When he arrived to the store the first thing he did was make a mock angelical noise.

“Uuuuuuaaaaaaaauuuuuuaaauuuu….” then he said: “Jesus is here! Wee.”

The hurried footsteps of Mr. Hussein were the only thing you could hear in the store after that. He rushed to meet Jeff at the door but before he could reach him Steve appeared out of nowhere.

“Let’s shoot this thing!” he shouted.

“No no no, no no, no what no,” shouted Mr. Hussein but everyone rushed to the door and prevented him from reaching Jeff. “Come here you bum, are you insane. We will have people with torches come and kill the heretic. Get over here you asshole,” he kept shouting but everyone was getting in place.

“Mr. Hussein please, I’ll try to keep him out of the shot,” said Steve.

“You don’t understand. They already think I’m Saddam, Bin Laden and all Al Qaeda combined. What are they going to think after this?” responded Mr. Hussein. But then Mrs. Devon arrived and everything changed.

When she arrived all conversations ended. She had a tight black dress torn in all the right places. She had a drop of fake blood dripping from her mouth. Her walk was sexy in an after midnight cable show kind of way. Not the infomercials or girls gone wild either. It was the kind of walk you see in a movie you pay ten dollars for on pay per view.

“Honey are we going to shoot this commercial or what?” she said to Mr. Hussein as she grabbed his hand and placed him in front of everyone.

“Ok. Places. Go” said Steve as he turns on the camera.

“Hello, we are the Furniture Avengers and we are here to fight for low prices!” said Mrs. Devon in a sexy voice.

“Marcos, smash prices!” screamed Marcos.

“Cut!” said Steve, “Marcos remember what I said. You are called the Strong Thing Man. You say: Strong Thing Man, smash prices! Then smash the wooden price tag,” he walked back behind the camera and said: “Just that part again… GO!”

“Marcos, smash prices!” he knew it was the wrong line but he thought Steve’s line was stupid. In his head he decided he was going to stay Marcos.

“Whatever…” he murmured to himself and signaled to keep going.

“We will beat the competition and avenge the death of your wallet,” said Mr. Hussein.

“Jesus approves!” shouted Jeff out of nowhere.

“Cut!” said Steve as he looks around. “That’s good, I think we are done.”

“What? No, you can’t let this moron say that!” screamed Mr. Hussein.

“I’ll edit it out, don’t worry,” Steve said. The weirdo packed all his things and left in a matter of minutes. They were all still out there with their costumes. People were gathering to see them. Then an old lady walked up to them.

She was a creepy looking old lady with a strange resemblance to Steve. Then she spoke and there was no doubt it was Steve. “When you enter the store you will become your costume… uhhhhhhhhh”

“Steve?” asked Mr. Hussein.

“No, I’m creepy old lady… uuhhhhhhh” he flared his hands and revealing a large switch of some sort in her back.

“What?” responded Mr. Hussein.

“Dude, that’s trippy, what the fuck?” said Jeff.

He pulled the switch that was built in the old lady costume. Everyone thought it was odd than an old lady had a switch in her hump but this was just plain wrong. Then a strange green light came out of the store. Everyone behind him could see it but the employees of the store didn’t. Then Steve ran off towards the town mall dressed like an old lady.

“Back to work you bums!” said Mr. Hussein. “There’s a sale today because of the commercial. Five percent off on all small coffee tables! Come on in!” he shouted to the crowd but no one dared go in. Then as he went in and the crowd gasps.

They all go in and nothing happened. Then they heard a terrible noise. Outside, the crowd began to scream frantically for help.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEE!” sounded like a roar that made the ground shake.

They decided to go out and see what was going on. Marcos ran as fast as he could but failed to see John. He closed his eyes and hoped that John survived. When he opened his eyes everyone had their mouths open. He went right through him. John was actually a ghost.

“Fucking asshole! That little shit, he tricked me,” screamed Mrs. Devon frantically. Her eyes were different and she had fangs now. “What is he doing?”

“What’s going on Mrs. Devon,” said Mr. Hussein. Then he heard metal clanking. It was his golden monkey. The creature ran to him and settled in his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“What the …, what the…” attempted to say Jeff. “Why can’t I say… F… fff.. Jesus power s…. I can’t curse?” said Jeff as he tried to grab his crotch. “I can’t grab that, what am I going to do at night? This is… bu… bread?”

Clay laughed but his jaw quickly fell off. “Ohhh nooooooo” he seemed to say.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEE” the noise again, but this time the ground was shaking a lot. It seemed like a giant was approaching the store. People were screaming and saying: “It’s him! He’s huge! He’s a giant.” Then that settled the question. It was a giant, the competitions giant.

“What are we going to do?” asked Marcos.

They all looked at him confused. None of them knew what was going on. Then Mrs. Devon had an idea.

“Mr. Hussein, call for an elephant,” she said.

“An elephant?” he said and then the glass in the store began to shake violently. Then the noise of an elephant came from the back room. They all looked at the back door and hope the elephant wasn’t there.

Clay slowly walked to the back room door and opened the door. He reattached his jaw and said: “Yep, it’s an elephant, argh aaaaaaaaaahhhh,” then the beast broke through the terrible quality wall. He completely crushed Clay. They all freaked out and Marcos confronted the animal head on. With one hand he grabed one of the elephants horns and stopped him on his tracks.

“Well, I guess you didn’t change much,” said Jeff.

“We can save the town from that giant! We are like the comic books,” said Marcos.

“Argh, blah blah, can you get my arm out of the rubble? Argh…” mumbled Clay as he stumbled out of the destroyed wall.

“It’s ok girl, I know you’re scared. I can hear you,” said Mr. Hussein as he caressed the elephant. He looked straight into the beast’s eyes and calmed her.

“Let’s go kick some fat Italian… Italian… arm” said Jeff as he raised his hand up in the air. “Jesus power needs to get better. It’s starting to… I can’t say that either! Come on! What can I say?”

They all gathered outside the store and the giant was not far. He saw his rival Mr. Hussein and ran faster towards him. Dipti shot arrows at him. But the arrows would just make him angrier. They would make his white shirt green for some reason. Then she took out a special looking arrow. It was white with green feathers. The glowing white arrow got him right on the knee and he fell on top of the building on the other side of the street. Dipti ran towards the giant at an incredible speed but he woke up. It only took a finger to catapult Dipti to the roof of the store.

Then Marcos charged at him. He could hold him while he was down but once the giant regain strength they were equals. None of them knew what to do. Mr. Hussein didn’t want the elephant to die so he refused to send the animal charging at him. However, one animal did charge at him.

“Chuck! What are you doing you crazy Baby Jesus!” shouted Jeff.

The giant was just regaining his balance when the little dog bit a small part of his small toe. He didn’t feel a thing, but he began to shrink. Dipti jumped out of the roof and looked at the whole thing in disbelief. The giant turned into a baby.

Mrs. Devon walked towards the almost adult size baby and caressed his head. “He’s so cute.”

Marcos grabbed the big baby and everyone gathered behind him. They took him to a bed in the store and people outside began to count the dead. Steve still dressed up as an old lady began to laugh maniacally next to a pile of rubble. Next to him was a film crew that was waiting for instructions. “Perfect, send it to the studio.”

“What? Who are you?” said one of the crewmembers.

“Did you see it happen sir? Could we interview you for the 6 o’clock news?” said a reporter that was coming out of a van.

“Yes, but do you want to see a trick. I’m a magician you know. Wait till you see what I can do. I make things disappear,” Steve said to them as they walked towards the van. The town suffered great losses and half of the downtown area was destroyed. Yet, the town had heroes, weird heroes with a giant baby. Mutants were born that day but the government didn’t seem to care; at least not yet.

Everyone was looking at the little giant sleep. Then, a mysterious light illuminated Jeff and he said: “We shall never teach him the word huge.”