And that was when Jeremy discovered he had the power to turn anyone or anything into tofu. Something like tofu, to be exact…pale in color, with a smooth, gelatinous texture. That was also when he first discovered that he could not turn someone or something back to its original state. Because no matter how much he focused his thoughts, his beloved Shooter would not turn back from a block of tofu into a dog.
Years later, Jeremy became a fixer for the mob. Whenever someone stepped out of line or ratted on the family, Jeremy gave him the magic touch. Afterward, he prepared the remains as the most delicious tofu spaghetti in town. He developed a reputation as not only an enforcer to be feared, but a top-shelf chef with a special gift for the use of tofu.
None of which helped him when a rival family made its move. The first thing they did was send in a specialist to neutralize Jeremy. Her name was Callie, and she hunted him through the terrible New Orleans night, never more than ten steps away from exercising her power to strike him down. She never took him out all the way, but she did cripple him; she managed to grab hold of his right arm just long enough to turn it into her specialty, tapioca…which promptly oozed down into the sewer grate and was gone for good. Jeremy still managed to transform her into tofu and get away, but he was never the same after that.
Which was why he decided on a religious career. What with his miraculous gift, he was able to win many converts to his own personal church. Never had a congregation known stronger faith than the members of the First Church of Tofu. How many unwanted objects could he transform through the power of righteous fervor into blessed tofu? As many as it took to keep the donations rolling in.
This went on for many years, and Jeremy was happy and fulfilled. Then, one day, his past caught up with him. He was out in the yard at the rectory, tending his vegetable garden, when he heard the sound of footsteps crackling through the brush. Looking up, he saw that his dark deeds of yesteryear had come home to roost. This was it, time for payback in a big way, and all he could do was accept it.
Because there, in front of him, growling with fangs bared and foam flecking his muzzle, was a vicious-looking hound of hell. The beast had eyes of flame and reeked of brimstone and sulfur. Its coat was covered in blood and singed black in places by hellfire. It looked like it had just dragged itself up from the deepest bowels of Perdition. And the name on its spiked collar read, “Shooter.” When Jeremy lashed out a hand to touch it, he could not transform it into tofu as he once had done. Instead, he turned into tofu. And Shooter proceeded to devour him with extreme prejudice, howling at the big tofu moon in the sky between mouthfuls.
See you soon.