CABNER

The Legend of Deodorant Man

 

Every year, the crowded halls of AnimeCon would overflow with thousands of fans: a sea of wigs, foam armor, plushies, and body heat. It was glorious, but it came with an unspoken curse—the stench. Veterans knew it. Newcomers learned it fast.

 

That is, until he arrived.

 

Clad in a neon yellow bodysuit that shimmered like a radioactive lemon and donning a majestic purple cape that fluttered like royalty on laundry day, he descended upon the con floor with a radiant aura of freshness. He was neither hero nor villain. He was simply known as...

 

Deodorant Man.

 

“BO! Not today!” he cried, leaping from a mezzanine with the grace of a plastic action figure. In each hand, he wielded twin sticks of clinical-strength deodorant like dual katanas. His utility belt held sprays, wipes, and even travel-sized body wash.

 

No one knew his true identity. Rumors claimed he was once a cosplayer who’d passed out in a funk-infested hallway and vowed vengeance. Others said he was summoned by a divine whiff from the pits of despair. But all agreed: he was a blessing.

 

He didn’t shame. He didn’t scold. He simply approached the ripe with a kind smile and whispered, “For you, my friend,” before bestowing his fragrant gift. Some resisted—he always respected the boundaries. But many accepted, often with tears of relief and a newfound respect for hygiene.

 

He posed for pictures. He danced in impromptu TikToks. He sprayed AXE like it was holy water. The air around him? Always minty-fresh with a hint of citrus.

 

And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he’d vanish—out the loading dock or into an elevator that no one remembered being there.

 

But every year, without fail, con-goers would feel a breeze of cleanliness sweep the con floor, and someone would whisper:

 

“Deodorant Man has returned.”

 

And the people would rejoice.