In the sleepy town of Greyhound Falls, nestled somewhere between a desert and nowhere interesting, existed a biker so lawless that he made Mad Max look like a suburban crossing guard. His name? Buck Herringbone, known far and wide as The Menace on Wheels. It wasn't that Buck was particularly evil; it was that he had no sense of consequence, an affliction that seemed permanent and incurable.
Buck’s days were a whirlwind of reckless abandon. He’d speed through red lights like they were figments of imagination, nudge parked cars out of their spots as if playing a game of vehicular pinball, and, most controversially, he was known for an act that earned him the nickname “Squirrelbane.” Yes, Buck ran over squirrels—accidentally, but also suspiciously often. The residents of Greyhound Falls tolerated him like one tolerates a mystery stain on an otherwise perfect shirt: with lots of sighs and very little hope.
But Buck had one rival: Officer Cynthia Pepper, the only cop in town with enough nerves of steel to take him on. Cynthia was sharp, with eyes that could squint intimidatingly even through aviator sunglasses and a whistle that could make hardened criminals consider charity work. But Buck always managed to stay one speeding wheelie ahead of her.
This dynamic continued for years until, one fateful Tuesday—forever dubbed The Tuesday of Reckoning—things took a turn. Buck, roaring down Main Street on his jet-black motorbike, misjudged a pothole and launched himself into a bakery storefront like a cannonball with commitment issues. The bakery owner, Mrs. Mabel, stood gaping with a tray of éclairs frozen in her flour-dusted hands.
“I… meant to do that,” Buck wheezed, spitting out what might’ve been frosting or teeth.
“YOU’VE BAKED YOUR LAST COOKIE, BUCK!” Officer Cynthia bellowed, appearing in a cloud of righteous fury.
But before Buck could charm his way out of yet another scrape, Greyhound Falls’ most peculiar citizen, Old Man Jenkins, tottered into view. Jenkins was the keeper of the town’s most obscure and baffling tradition: The Great Goat Trials. Legend had it that anyone causing “maximum disturbance” in town had to face a trial by goat. No one took it seriously, until Jenkins declared that Buck was the chosen miscreant.
“Get the goat!” Jenkins cried with unsettling enthusiasm, and within minutes, a goat named Reginald, known for having the temperament of a caffeinated toddler, was brought forth. The townspeople gathered, whispering in awe and popcorn-crunching anticipation.
The Goat Trials were simple: survive the whims of Reginald for five minutes, and one’s offenses would be forgiven. Fail, and you’d be sentenced to a day cleaning the town’s most terrifying bathroom: The Gas Station Restroom of 1978.
The timer started, and Reginald sized up Buck with eyes that promised a storm of headbutts. Buck tried to charm the goat with an ill-timed wink, but Reginald charged like a bull, sending Buck diving into a wheelbarrow of questionable gardening tools. The crowd erupted in laughter as Buck, tangled in rakes, tried to keep Reginald at bay with a garden hose.
The chase continued, weaving through the crowd and knocking over an entire lemonade stand, until Reginald finally tackled Buck into the town fountain, splashing everyone within a three-mile radius. Officer Cynthia blew her whistle, which at this point sounded more like a victory symphony. The timer buzzed; Buck had lasted exactly 4 minutes and 59 seconds. Close, but not close enough.
Buck, now drenched and defeated, was ordered to a day of toilet-scrubbing penance. Reginald strutted away like the four-legged hero he was, enjoying the affection of the town's children who now saw him as a legend. Even Officer Cynthia had to admit she felt a twinge of respect for the goat’s work.
When Buck finally emerged from the gas station restroom, hair tousled and eyes wide with the horror of what he’d witnessed, he looked different. Humbled. Redeemed, even. The town of Greyhound Falls, in turn, found something they never thought they’d see: Buck Herringbone stopping at a red light, waving sheepishly at Mrs. Mabel, and using his turn signal like a civilized being.
Reginald was promoted to Honorary Sheriff and given a permanent booth at the local diner, complete with a “No Buck Allowed” sign, just for giggles.
And so, Greyhound Falls found peace. Well, at least until Old Man Jenkins decided it was time for The Great Chicken Chase.