Fluff and…
We found ourselves in the local dive diner. The place was decorated to look like the fifties: chrome bumpers, pictures of old cars, and old-timey vinyl records adorned the walls. I liked the ambiance of the place.
I was just starting in on my fifth plate of food—an omelet with everything, a side of hash-browns, and another full plate of pancakes. No reason to hide how much I was eating anymore, at least not from Tom. Still, three of my empty plates were in front of him, just to keep the waitress from getting too suspicious. A couple hungry college boys eating up this much could be the munchies, but just me? That might be too much. No need for that kind of attention.
“Soooo…” Tom let the interjection hang in the air as if it contained all his queries in one syllable.
I stared at him, fork halfway to my mouth.
“We’ve established that you’re strong,” he continued, trying to bait me.
“Thanks. For a moment I thought you were going to interject with some real wisdom there,” I retorted before continuing to stuff my face.
Being defensive allowed me to hide some of the other changes I’d been noticing. Hopefully he wouldn’t pry too deep. I really wanted to get to know myself, and see what I could really do, before opening up to anyone else. Even him.
Tom had become my best friend over the last year. He had shown me how awesome life could be. But I still felt like I barely knew anything about him. More importantly, I didn’t even really know what was truly happening to me. Or if it would be permanent. The last thing I wanted to do was brag about some ability, only for all of this to go away. Cancer cure may contain some side effects, such as the feeling of having superpowers, my internal monologue narrated. This is a temporary effect, and the user will awaken in two weeks, having vividly hallucinated about being more than they are.”
My new biggest fear was waking up normal. How the times changed, and so quickly too!
Maybe I was still just a cancer patient laying in a hospital bed wasting away. This was really all just my mind’s coping mechanism to an inevitably slow, painful death. A self-fulfilling fantasy about being free of any physical or mental weakness. One where I was Superman.
All these factors lead to one, inevitable decision: I would keep as much to myself as I could. But not everything. Being stronger than one of the best athletes in our little college was pretty cool. I would keep some things to myself. Definitely the weird stuff. At least until I was sure it was all permanent.
“What I was trying to say,” Tom continued, breaking my reverie, “was that this is more than just some weird fluke. This is beyond normal, human stuff here.” He looked around furtively, as if anyone would care what we had to say. “You’re basically a comic book character. Like a superhero,” he whispered conspiratorially.
Huggckrmphn. I choked on my mouthful of food.
“Really? A comic book? Am I not good enough for my own movie? Not even something independent?” I said after clearing my throat with some water.
“Maybe some B-grade shit.” He leaned back; affronted I wasn’t taking him seriously.
“You actually have to look good to be seen on the big screen. You have a face for radio and a voice for writing!”
“Ok, ok. I get it.” I turned back to my plate of food for refuge.
“Continue.” I gestured with my fork.
“While your delusions of grandeur are undoubtedly misplaced.”
“I said I get it!” I mumbled.
“You do have some potential,” he finished.
How generous of him.
“But you definitely need someone to help you see your full potential. Me.” He leaned forward, smiling.
“Oh-oh-hooo, you just want to be my trusty sidekick!” I laughed.
“No, I—” For once he was flustered.
“HA! Not good enough for the theater, but good enough to have a sidekick!” I declared.
“Well maybe some straight-to-TV movie.” This time it was his turn to mumble.
“Regardless,” he continued, “we both know I’d be the brains behind this operation. You can be the brawn. Finally you have a role! I’m tired of carrying the whole team on my back anyway.” He smiled.
“But think about it! You have serious potential to make a real difference here. You could fight crime, stand up for the little guy, and be the change in the world people need. How many times do you need to read in the paper—”
“No one reads the paper,” I interrupted.
“Fine, watch on TV or read online, about some new tragedy? Don’t you feel the burning inside these stories cause? Feel your blood boil at the injustices being dealt to people who have less? How many stories are there of under-privileged, under-represented people being walked all over, simply because someone with more money has more rights in this country? We have the potential to make a real difference in the world, to be heroes!” Tom banged a fist on the table causing the dishes to rattle.
The few other guests seated nearby looked over at us. I gave Tom a quick glare.
“Ok. You lost me. First, you said I had delusions of grandeur? This is… too much. I thought you were going for a Spider-Man-like character, but I feel like you turned the corner into some V for Vendetta shit. Are you talking about stopping crime? Or starting a revolution? Because I can’t remember ever actually seeing a crime carried out in person, and secondly, starting a revolution would make me the bad guy,” I replied.
“Not if we won,” he countered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Yeah, you’re right. I got carried away there. How do these stories normally start out?” He almost sounded disappointed.
We both sat back, trying to think of our favorite origin story.
“I think crazy, world-ending events usually set things in motion for most superheroes,” I replied after a moment of silence.
“Yeah I guess those stories are pretty far-fetched,” he admitted.
“I’m not about to spend my nights walking through some dark alleys waiting to get jumped.” I had a feeling my fate would have been closer to Kick-Ass than Batman.
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to save the girl getting mugged, not be the victim of it,” Tom stated.
“Are there even any dark alleys in this town?” I pondered.
“Floyd’s can get pretty raunchy,” he laughed.
“Guess I’ll just wait in the back alley to break up a bar fight.”
“You’d be a more effective hero just standing at the front door holding a bucket. You’d be the savior of every girl in heals whose date drank too much,” he joked.
“A real hero,” I replied sarcastically.
Tom shrugged and sat back.
“I guess you’re right. Not much happens here, huh?” he said after a minute.
“Nope.” I looked down at my last empty plate.
“So what are you going to do?” he asked.
“Well,” I thought for a moment, “I don’t really know. Nothing for now.”
“Nothing?” Now he for sure sounded disappointed.
“Yeah. Not about to go seeking trouble just because I’m a little stronger,” I replied.
“A little.” He rolled his eyes.
“I guess I’ll just live life normally. Should be pretty easy now.”
“Seems like a waste.” He frowned.
“Yeah, but what am I going to do? Put on spandex and patrol the streets?”
We both laughed at the idea.
We got the check, and Tom paid, as promised. We drove home, each lost in our own thoughts about life’s possibilities. What would you do if you had super-powers handed to you?