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Great power, and Responsibility.
Before I start the story, I guess I should add a disclaimer.
There is a whole load of awesomeness, power, and importance in this story. But I, the narrator, will do nothing big in this tale. Mostly, I serve as the bystander, and the emotional support. It would be a whole lot more interesting, witty, and informative if Joe, (or, as the world knows him now, the super man of this world) wrote this book, but sadly, he's to busy ruling/saving/defending the world to write a book. But someone has to document how the greatest hero in all time started out.
I hate to disappoint all you fans, but about two years ago, your hero was normal. Less than normal, even. Who knows, maybe you shoved him in a locker a few times, or called him 'shrimp', or worse. In seventh grade, the kid stood 4 foot 5 inches, and he had a slight build. Frankly, he was annoying. He cracked jokes constantly, most of them insulting. He also had a habit of throwing things when he was angry. I was his only friend, and I wasn't much higher up on the cool scale than he was. I had skipped a grade, and I was in the honors program besides. It wasn't like I was a nerd or anything, I hated school and studying just as much as the next kid. But I was cursed with the talent of doing what the teacher told me to do. And that got me good grades whether I wanted them or not.
Another flaw of Joes, he was, and probably still is, curious to a fault. I swear, he was worse than a three year old. Always "How come?" "Who came up with that stupid idea?" or simply "Why? Why? Why?" And that is why, on the famous date of April twenty second, we were both in the abandoned lot by Wal-Mart. Joe had heard rumors about aliens, Bigfoot, and even terrorists hiding in that lot. I had heard them too. I'm pretty sure all towns have at least one place where Bigfoot is supposed to be. It was perfectly normal for two boys to go check it out. We just happened to get lucky. Well, Joe got lucky, anyway...
My dad had a metal detector. We thought it might help us find whatever we thought was in that lot. We would have looked like idiots, running around an empty gravel covered clearing with a shovel and a metal detector, but we were shielded from view by tall trees. Now, of course, thousands of tourists come to that no longer empty lot with shovels and metal detectors, hoping to catch what we found.
The first five bottle caps, we were ecstatic. The next ten pennies, we were eager. By the twentieth rock, we were curious. But by the twenty fifth soda can, we were ready to go home.
On our way back to the sidewalk, the detector beeped again. I reached down to turn it off, but then stopped when I saw how magnetic our newest find was. I walked in small circles. Then in big circles. The thing was huge. There was no way I could have missed it on our way in. I showed Joe, and we were back to ecstatic. We both dug, taking turns with the shovel. And then we heard the clang of metal on metal. Instantly, I knew what we had there was different. For one thing, it glowed. But not with a normal light. It was like... You know those Christmas lights, with all those colors? Imagine a giant one of those, only it glows black. Imagine a perfectly flat surface, only when you touch it, your hand curves. When you pound it with a fist, it hurts. But when you press it gently, it gives a little. There are probably a thousand other ways it was weird. But that was what we found. To me, it just seemed wrong. But to Joe, it must have been beautiful. I backed up a few steps. He eagerly pried it out with the handle of the shovel. It was a thin round, giant disk. The black glow got brighter. I mean, darker. Well, you know, stronger. Whatever.
Anyway, it hurt. It stung my eyes, and it burned my skin. I cried out. I didn't see the rest because my eyes were watering. But Joe told me that it stood on its end, then lifted up into the air. I struggled to my feet, then fell back. I was so weak. I started to crawl away. I don't think Joe even noticed me. I heard something, like nails on a chalk board mixed with the roar of a river. But Joe heard a voice in it. He claims the words would destroy any normal human. But I think he just forgot them.
When I could see again, Joe was different. Very different. He was at least six feet tall, with huge mussels. Besides that, he was flying three feet in the air. "Cool." He breathed. Then he smiled down at me. But it was a smile of pity. "Sorry. Someone had to take the responsibility. I got the power."
Later, when I saw my reflection, I was horrified. I had huge, dark bags under my eyes. My back was hunched over, and I couldn't straiten it. My hair was either white, or gone. And my skin was cracked and dry.
With great power comes great responsibility. I just got the short end of the stick.