Man Eats Batteries, Shits Lightning

Thor?

PADFOOT ARIZONA- Harvey Brikkle is your normal everyday Joe. He goes to work at 8, gets home at 6 and is sipping a cold one by 6:30. He's got a wife, two kids, a dog named Gus and an old beat up Chevy named Clementine.

Oh, did we mention that he eats batteries and shits lightning?

Brikkle possesses a rare disorder called Levitas Plasmatoriosis from the Latin meaning "lightning maker".

For an as yet unknown reason Brikkle's body produces an enzyme which allows him to actually store the electrons in regular household batteries and then, using his digestive track,  channel them outwards in a powerful static discharge.

Standing a modest 5'8" and possessing the soft and gentle features of a child, Brikkle, 45, is not an imposing man. Still, the constant dim crackle of electricity emanating  from somewhere deep within his mid-section lends  him a nearly other-worldly aspect.

According to Brikkle it all started when he was 8 years old.

"Dad'd be in the fields," he says "Ma would be in the kitchen and I'd  have my run of the house, and I'd just eat things. You know, whatever I found: pieces of rock, tiny black things, stuff the cat didn't like."

It wasn't long before Brikkle discovered the food that would later make him (in)famous throughout Padfoot.

"My Dad used to collect flashlights," says Brikkle, "at one point he had the second largest personal collection of consumer level flashlights in all of Padfoot. Well, one day he sort of left one out..."

According to Brikkle, he unscrewed the casing of the flashlight and out slid four shiny AA Duracell batteries.

"I 'member thinkin' they was the most beautiful things I ever seen...so I just...you know...ate 'em."

Five hours later the house was on fire and Brikkle's younger brother was dead, his bones turned to glass from a blast of potent electricity seemingly directed from the top-most bunk.

"We was all sad 'bout that o'course," says Brikkle's father Earl, "But also excited because of Harvey's miraculous gift."

As soon as word got out about his unusual ability Brikkle became a local celebrity, touring the radio talk-show circuit, appearing at various State Fairs and even performing,  albeit briefly, in a traveling Circus under the name "Lil' Shock Ass".

Unfortunately, like the polarizing quality of electricity itself,  Brikkle's strange power soon divided the towns people of Padfoot.

"Harvey is THE most off the hook son of a bitch I've ever met," says Angus Mingus, one of the many local butchers, "I seen him blow up a dog once 'cuz it looked at him, or didn't look at him. Don't know which."

"Harvey is the nicest boy I've ever met" says Edwina Sinclair, retired housewife, "He's always so caring and kind.  I don't care at all that he possesses a terrible power."

Brikkle, trying to stem the tide of negative sentiment,  cut back on his performances, relegating himself to dinner theater a few nights a week at various local venues. 

Sadly, following a few minor incidents at Pete's Egg Dog and Steak House, public sentiment began to drift inexorably towards distrust and finally to fear.

Brikkle was soon forced to abandon his life as an entertainer altogether.

"Them was good times," says Brikkle with a tinge of remorse, "but I couldn't do it forever. Gotta grow up you know. Earn an honest living."

Now-a-days Brikkle works full time at the rock quarry and keeps his special talent under wraps so to speak.

"I bring it out at parties sometimes, or you know, special occasions." Brikkle chuckles then goes quiet for a moment. "And every once in a while," He adds, "When it's real quiet and the night's real still. No wind, not a cloud in the sky. I hike up Padfoot Peak, swallow a handful of 9 volts, grab my knees and give 'em one hell of a storm."