Go to the Guidance Counselor 3

Write a legend of a confident weight lifter who must locate a secret vault.

On the battered surface of planet Icarus 7, a figure walks the slums of Stabsvegas--which was named after a cheating gambler was given his ill-gotten winnings in Knife Dollars. Beef Slabrock paused to examine the corpse, long since mummified by the sun. He had been nailed to the village's welcome sign above the name he inspired. Some of the rusted shivs had found enough purchase in the corpse to remain. The rest had probably been snatched up by children as they fell from the shriveling cadaver.

Beef felt wary eyes measuring the extent of his manliness. Indeed, the story of the "Mighty Man of Bronze" had raced across the wastes along trade routes and at sand-skiff docks.

"This good," muttered Beef. He wrapped his arms around the base of the Stabsvegas sign and began to lift. The cruciform extended about five full feet into the clay, which had married itself to the wood and refused to yield.

"Ground is bitch!" shouted Beef. "Yield to greatest of flesh!"

Two knives fell from the gambler and bounced harmlessly off his shoulders.

"Buddy! Hey, jerkass! You got sand in your skull?"

Beef released the sign, and the clay sucked it back into place.

"Why stop breakfast?" asked Beef, turning to face the tiny man that batted at his ears with feeble hurtwords.

"The hell you talking about, breakfast?" said the man.

The interloper was clearly a man of status. His mustache gleamed with wax beneath his tinted goggles. He wore a long-pork leather vest and denim pants with fewer than ten wrinkles (Beef could count to ten, and took every opportunity to do so). A law star was pinned to his left nipple.

"Lifting is breakfast. Also lunch and dinner."

The law man spat into the dirt. "Well, my name is Shank, and I happened to notice you looking at my badge."

"Law star," said Beef, shrugging.

"Right. And Shank says you need to let that sign alone."

Beef glanced at the sign. It would have given his muscle good pains. Better than anything else he could see.

"Ten lifts for breakfast. Then going."

Shank shook his head. "You aren't going to lift that sign once, not as long as I'm here."

A greasy man poked his head from the upper floor of the town INN and lifted his gas mask from his mouth. "Hey Shank, I think maybe you should let him go ahead. I heard of this guy, I think."

"And I think you should get back inside before I take another of your toes, Stinkpit."

Beef returned on hand to the sign and clenched.

"I already told you not to do that," Shank said. As the law man approached Beef, he reached for his dusty seven-gun.

Beef regarded the encroaching Shank with a disinterest that sent a cold sliver of foreboding through the law man's tattooed spine.

"You know what this is, right?" Shank asked, tipping the barrel of his seven-gun up so its barrel gleamed in the morning sun.

"Not stop Beef," Beef mumbled.

Shank shook his head. "And what do you plan to do about it? Because I think I've convinced myself to shoot you down."

"Punch," said Beef.

"Wha-"

Where Shank had been standing there was now only the mighty fist of Beef Slabrock, Mighty Man of Bronze. Had the law man survived the impact, he might have ended up enjoying the view--at least until he became intimate with the cliffside that waited at the end of his flight.

The eyes remained fixated on Beef, but nobody seemed interested in avenging Shank.

"Hiders. Any who know about Vault?"

Silence.

"Need to find Vault. Tell Beef! Beef friend!"

Stinkpit had relocated to the lobby of the INN to watch the action. Shank being sent into orbit via fist was a memory he would cherish for all of his remaining days, but he had no desire to take a ride on the knuckle train himself.

"No, Bronze Man!" Stinkpit called, tipping the mask from his chin. "Nobody here knows. But I bet if you walk east you'll find it real soon!"

Beef perked up. This was the first tip he had heard in many, many sun-ups.

"Where east?" Beef asked.

"Do you see the sun, Bronze Man?" asked Stinkpit.

Beef scanned the horizon until he was staring into its wavy hurt-shine. His eyes felt like they were lifting, and it made Beef glad..

"That's the ticket," Stinkpit called. "Move towards it, and don't stop until you find the Vault."

Thoughts of breakfast faded, and Beef began to stride with a purpose towards the rising sun. Stabsvegas waited until his footsteps thudded out of earshot.

"Who the hell was that?" asked Gut the Bartender.

Stinkpit's heart swelled with pride. "As a matter of fact, I happen to know. It'll only cost you as many beers as it takes me to finish telling you."
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Thus concludes another brain-damaged adventure with Beef Slabrock, Might Man of Bronze, Lifter of All Things, Smasher of the Unsmashable.

Join us next time as our hero continues his journey to find the Vault of Armstrong, where the legendary Steroid of the Infinite is hidden. Only after plunging the anointed syringe into his groin will be able to achieve his dream of bench pressing the entire planet.