Chapter 8
Monday morning in Waterford arrived with the usual fanfare of confused cows, a squirrel attempting to file a tax return, and the BK Lounge's "BJ's: Coming Soon!" sign hanging on by a single rusty nail. The town was buzzing—but not with bees; more like the low hum of collective existential dread mixed with the faint scent of burnt toast and a suspiciously strong whiff of pickles.
Colonel Mustard and Lieutenant Pickle sat at their favorite booth, sipping coffee that was more bitter than the mayor's latest policy speech. Pickle was fiddling with his monocle, which had fogged up from the steam rising off his cup.
"Sir," Pickle said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I overheard Mrs. Peabody apologizing for breathing too loudly at the town meeting last night."
Colonel Mustard nearly choked on his coffee. "Apologizing for breathing? That's a new low, even for Waterford."
Pickle nodded solemnly. "She said she felt like she was taking up too much space."
Mustard leaned back in his chair, tapping his notebook thoughtfully. "Listen up, Lieutenant. No one should have to apologize for breathing, being themselves, or taking up space. Your existence is valid. You don't need anyone's permission to be here. Not the mayor, not the cartel cats, and definitely not the squirrels."
Just then, the mayor strutted by the window, holding a sign that read, "Apologize for Your Existence Day—Canceled Due to Lack of Interest." The squirrel on her shoulder gave a knowing nod, as if to say, "We tried, but even I won't apologize for being this cute."
Pelosi with the Clues appeared from behind a stack of unopened mail, offering a cryptic smile. "In a world that tries to shrink you, standing tall is the greatest rebellion. Especially if you're a pickle."
Pickle grinned. "So, what you're saying is, if someone tells me to shrink, I should eat more fiber?"
Mustard chuckled. "Exactly. And maybe wear a hat. Confidence is the best accessory, right after mustard."
The BK Lounge erupted into laughter, and even the cartel cats paused their scheming to nod in agreement, one of them knocking over a salt shaker in excitement.
Later that afternoon, Colonel Mustard took to the stage for an impromptu speech, reminding Waterford's citizens that they were here for a reason—whether the mayor liked it or not.
"Don't apologize for existing," he declared, voice booming over the hum of the jukebox. "Be loud, be proud, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, send them a bill for emotional damages. Preferably with a side of relish."
Pickle raised his coffee cup in salute. "To existing unapologetically!"
The crowd cheered, and the mayor's squirrel attempted a somersault, narrowly missing a stack of napkins.
To cap off the moment, Lieutenant Pickle grabbed a battered guitar and launched into a parody of the iconic "Men in Black" theme song, rebranded for Waterford's unique brand of absurdity:
Parody Song:
"Men in Mustard"
(Parody of "Men in Black" by Will Smith)
Here come the men in mustard,
They're here to spread the truth, no bluster.
Fighting nonsense with a tangy twist,
In Waterford town, they can't be missed!
They're the guardians of common sense,
Cleaning up the bureaucratic fence.
If your logic's lost or your sauce is slack,
Don't worry, help's coming—men in mustard's back!
They'll question orders, break the rules,
Teach you not to be fools.
So when the mayor says "Apologize,"
Just look her in the eye and say, "No lies."
Men in mustard, men in mustard,
Keeping Waterford's sanity from going bluster.
So grab your buns, and don't look back,
The men in mustard are on the attack!
As Pickle's spirited vocals echoed through the BK Lounge, the crowd clapped and stomped along, energized by the anthem of unapologetic existence and saucy rebellion.
Colonel Mustard smiled, tipping his hat. "Remember, Waterford: You don't have to apologize for being yourself. Stand tall, spread your flavor, and never let anyone tell you you don't belong."
Pickle winked. "And if they do, just remind them—there's always a place for pickles and mustard at the table."
Because in Waterford, the best defense against absurdity is simply being yourself—loud, proud, and unapologetically saucy.
Colonel Mustard's Clue:
If someone tells you to shrink, eat more fiber. It's good for your backbone. And your attitude.