Wouldn’t be so super

If there were teenage superheroes, they’d make a hash of it. They’d have less than perfect morals and untested judgments, even if they were full of good intentions. And there would be such temptations to use their powers for immature personal gain: for adulation by stunts or risky heroics, advertisements and endorsements, money by theft or service, a get-back at this jerk or the other; and these wouldn’t all end well. Imagine a teen temper tantrum which can break bones and kick down houses.

Or imagine what else could go less than well —

“We were eating the popcorn and then he tried to kiss me without a warning and I screamed and hit him and that’s why he’s all over the wall like that, officer.”

“Well excuse me, but you looked like the robber! ‘s your fault getting robbed when you look like a fucking robber yourself! What was I to think, that the sweet old lady had a stiletto?”

“My name’s not funny! My name’s not funny! I’m the Brickhouse because’s built like… I AM NOT FAT! Oh God sorry are you okay er did your arm come off oh gross.”

“Well I’m the Nightgaunt, and I’m telling you to stay away from that girl. She has a secret admirer. She’s taken. Now get away before I hit you some more.”

“Ew gross. I’m not going to fight you, you douche. Stop following me. Find some other hero to foil your plots. I have a life.”

“Huh? But it was said on the news he was a threat to America! Would Glenn Beck lie?”

“Your honor, I understand the disorderly charge, but the public nudity is a bit much! Napalm does that to your clothes; what was I supposed to do, go find a Dolce and Gabbana while Naughtius Maximum levelled the midtown? Shit, you should be giving me a clothing allowance!”

“Giant radioactive worms? Like, whatever. I have a date today.”

“People, please. It’s just me, your friendly neighborhood superhero, taking a stroll… Oh my God, they’re looking at me funny. It’s the costume, isn’t it? Oh shit, I need a coat. Oh shit oh shit…”

“Well it works in the movies. How was I to know it don’t work in real life if you just run under them and catch them? Ewww, I have blood inside my clothes. No-one ever told me people splash like that.”

“I’m not interested in homework. Try to make me, teach.”

School? You really think school’s going to teach me a trade more lucrative than the byproducts of saving a grateful city from sundry Sewer Abominations now and then? I’m dropping out, mom, and going to kick some irradiated mutant ass.”

“Since people don’t have enough money, I fixed it. I turned all of Connecticut into pure solid gold. I don’t think there are any possible ill effects from that; do I look like an economics dweeb or something?”

“Well it was kinda funny, right. I mean, why would the test for the Secret League of Superheroes involve robbing a bank? Anyway that’s it officer, I don’t know where he or the money is; can I go now?”

“Fuck, I’ve been lurking in this alley for an hour and not a single crime.”

“No, I’m not a pervert! I’m lurking here waiting for a crime to — aaah! Not in the eyes!”

“Get off her, you — oh sorry, geez, I didn’t mean to… wowza! What? Of course I’ve seen a naked woman before! Who do you take the Masculator for?”

“What do you mean McDonalds is dropping me? I’m their mascot! I need the money! They shouldn’t make me angry; they won’t like the Bloodthundergod when he’s angry!”

“My power? My power’s the ability to see through things… my dear Lady Butterfly-Tattoo-on-Hip. He he he.”

“So oh wow, I’m a vampire now? Wow! I’m gonna tell everyone… what do you mean, ‘sunlight incinerates us’? That’s too much glitter for me. What are we, immortal beings with an unlife expectancy of two minutes? Jeez, we’re pitiful, cross my heart and hope to… agh…”

“Nnnnno. I’m going to be a hairdresser, and a superhero on the side. Ask my brother if he wants to be a Government agent. What? No, he has no powers, but he’s a big fan of Jerry Cotton. You know, the FBI agent considerably more charming than you. Also, a nice butterfly tattoo down there, boy.”

“What do you mean, ‘a super-period’? This is not a period, this is an Old Faithful! So gross; how am I supposed to fight crime when I’m like this? And… okay, you’re dead. No-one calls me ‘the Red Menstruator’ without getting a whupping of the ass.”

“Omigod. How did you know… what do you mean, ‘the Daily Mail has my identify on page one’? I wear glasses dammit! What, ‘jealous boyfriend outs Blackdoom’? The bastard! And no, I’m not gay!”

“You have been saved by the Gay Hunk. Peace and love! And a membership application to the ACLU, NAACP, Amnesty, Human Rights Watch, and I’m running a collection for the Hounslow Animal Hospital’s Renovation Fund…”

“Seriously, you call yourself the Penetrator? You’re not compensating for something… oh here we go with the laser eyes again.”

“No mom, I just killed a cutpurse by accident today, I’m fine, how was your day?”

“No mom, no break-up. I just prevented the Devourer of Souls from eating our planet. Had to gaze into the abyss a bit there, with all the drama and a few million dead and the like, so I’m feeling a little bit down. But I and Steve are, like, still going steady!”

“…also, I spayed your pets. Because that’s the responsible thing to do. With my laser eyes. Now up, up and sunroof!

“So you’ve been stalking me for a week hoping someone would jump me and you could… God, you’re pitiful. And so’s your costume. Spandex is not for your body shape. I don’t care how much you can control the power of the winds, somehow with that belly shouldn’t wear spandex. Or a cape; ick.”

“Aww, shit. How come every time I stand up there’s a hole in the back of my pants? And why does it smells of lasers? And why’s that dweeb in the back row smiling like a fucking maniac?”

(This fit was caused by coming across and liking the webcomic Spinnerette.)

2 Responses to “Wouldn’t be so super”

  1. Liz Says:

    Nice series of superhero skits!

  2. Masks of Eris Says:

    Liz: Ah, thanks. One tries to be as clever as one can.

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