Every Superhero Needs a Sidekick
March 13th, 2007.I was kind of a strange little kid.
Actually, I’m being easy on myself. The truth of the matter is that I was somewhat delusional. For example, I thought I was a superhero. This is not to say I was an active girl with a healthy imagination, either. Oh no. I really believed that I was a full fledged princess of power. I dressed myself in my Wonder Woman underwear with matching undershirt and I called it my ‘super suit.’ I always carried a magnifying glass in my waistband just in case I needed to look a little closer at a clue.
I figured I was placed with my family as a baby because I needed to complete my training before I went out into the world to fight crime. So I studied Star Wars, She-ra, and Wonder Woman very carefully in order to learn different crime fighting techniques. I practiced running faster, sneaking stealthier, and jumping higher. I would clench my fists, muster up all my strength, and imagine some bad guy ass bent over right in front of me. Then I’d kick the air as hard as I could.
Yeah. That would show him.
Should my Mother or my Father ask me to practice my reading in preparation for school, I’d humor them only to keep my secret. I knew I’d never actually go to school. Superheroes had better things to do. Duh.
Then one day it suddenly occurred to me that my training was complete. Yet…yet…no one had shown up in a slick jet to take me back to the base and give me my first mission! I was at a loss. Was I not in top physical condition? Couldn’t be! I outperformed every kid on the block! Had I not learned everything there was to know about being a superhero? Impossible! Cartoons and comic books were my life!
Suddenly, it dawned on me. It was so obvious. The reason I had not been taken from this family and given my first mission was because they were my first mission! Something terrible and evil would befall them and I had to protect them from it!
Cue the birth of my baby brother. He was obviously a vile beast intent on the destruction of these nice people. His shrieking cry seemed to have a slightly hypnotic effect on my Mother. And very often, something white (and certainly poisonous) would fly out of his mouth. With that fluid, I knew he would try to kill us. Kill us all.
This first thing I did was try to warn my parents. “Take him back!” I cried hysterically, “He’ll try to kill us! Kill us all!”
My Father responded by sitting me down for ‘a talk.’
“V,” he said, “I know a new baby is hard and I know you feel like you’re not getting enough attention. But I want you to know that your Mother and I love you just as much as we always have.”
I looked at him skeptically.
“In fact,” he continued, “A part of us loves you a little special. Because you were the first. But I want you to keep that a secret, OK?”
I wasn’t buying it. What kind of a fool did he take me for?
I knew the baby had cast a spell on my parents and was forcing them to do whatever he wanted. Also, I knew the majority of the baby’s power seemed to come from the bottle he was always sucking on. Whatever he was drinking made him bigger and stronger. If I could just figure out a way keep it away from him, he’d slowly lose his power and I could defeat him. But, my zombie parents never left me alone with him! They hovered around him, doing his bidding, kind of like those evil monkeys in the Wizard of Ozz.
I was determined to bide my time.
The days passed quickly and before I knew it, the baby was toddling around the house. He was getting stronger and I realized that I if I didn’t act fast, it was only a matter of time before he destroyed the world. One lazy late afternoon, I convinced my Mother that I could keep an eye on the baby while she prepared dinner. I told her that I would yell if anything bad happened. I made the point that the kitchen was only room away. She reluctantly agreed.
I looked at the evil baby. “Alone at last,” I whispered with my most menacing voice.
The baby stared back at me, untroubled, casually sucking on his bottle of magic juice.
“We’ll see how much power you have if I take this away!” I announced as I snatched the bottle from his grasp.
He mustered up an angry screech, but I quickly popped the bottle back into his mouth before he made a sound. I was a smart superhero. I knew that screech was one of his most powerful superpowers and it would instantly hypnotize my Mother who would come rushing to his aid and foil my plans.
I mulled over my situation. A plan began to emerge. I would keep taking the bottle from his mouth…only I’d be careful to replace it before he screamed. Each time I took it, he would become weaker and weaker. Finally, he would become so weak that he would be unable to scream. At that point, I would keep the bottle.
I took the bottle.
He got angry.
I put the bottle back.
Rinse and repeat.
It was working! I was a genius!
But then I made a fatal error. I dropped the bottle. It rolled along the floor. I quickly lunged for it, stepping on my toy airplane in the process and snapping a wing off.
“See what you made me do!” I hissed.
My evil brother responded by unleashing hell with the loudest shriek I had ever heard him shriek. I thought his power had almost depleted, but holy jeez, was I wrong!
“V!” my Mother called from the kitchen, “What is going on in there?”
It was at that point that I made the most fatal mistake a superhero could make: I turned my back on the enemy. I spun around towards the door and called to my Mother, “Uh, he just dropped his bottle! Don’t worry, I’m getting it for him!”
Little did I know that my baby brother had retrieved the broken airplane wing from the floor. With lightening quickness, he jammed it into the side of my foolish superhero head.
Warm blood ran down the side of my face. “Curses!” I whispered.
I was rushed to the hospital where my head was partially shaved and I earned 14 stitches for my trouble. I guess saving the world comes with a price.
Later that evening, I snuck into my brother’s room and peaked through the bars of his crib.
“Look at this,” I said to him, “My first battle scar!”
He stared at me with bright blue eyes, completely untroubled.
“So I see I have a formidable opponent…” I mused quietly. (Actually, I probably said ‘formable opponent,’ but they always said it fast on TV making it harder for me to nail the word exactly, so fuck you.)
“I will defeat you!” I insisted.
Still, he said nothing.
I chewed my lip thoughtfully. I chose my next words carefully, “Unless, of course, you want me to make you into my sidekick…..”
I peered at him through the bars. He appeared to think it over. The look on his face told me that he was feeling somewhat amicable towards the deal, although he refused to respond definitely either way.
“You will have to give up your evil ways and turn completely good,” I warned.
He wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.
“Just so you know…I have a secret jet.”
Ah, now I had his attention! I decided that it was time to pull back just a little. You know, play a little hard to get.
“Well, you just think about it and let me know,” I said with an airy wave of my hand.
Then I turned abruptly and began quickly walking out of his room. Finally, he gurgled…in the affirmative. I smiled the sweet smile of victory.
Mission Accomplished.
March 13th, 2007 at 1:53 pm
[...] Original post: Every Superhero Needs a Sidekick [...]
March 17th, 2007 at 5:51 am
[...] 6. Violent Acres: Every Superhero Needs a Sidekick “Whatever he was drinking made him bigger and stronger. If I could just figure out a way keep it away from him, he’d slowly lose his power and I could defeat him. But, my zombie parents never left me alone with him! They hovered around him, doing his bidding, kind of like those evil monkeys in the Wizard of Ozz.” [...]