The Superhero

May 28, 2009
By Oracle BRONZE, Rochester, New York
Oracle BRONZE, Rochester, New York
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments


He walks into the board room and sees a small fidgeting man who can’t stop fingering his tie. He holds a clipboard and stares down at it to avoid looking the Superhero in the eye. “Sir” he says “profits are down.” The Superhero grabs the man’s tie and pulls him foreword. “Look at me,” he hisses, “when you are, when you are explaining your miserable failures.” The man nods forcefully. The Superhero drops him.


As the Superhero drives home, he spies a little girl walking alone on the sidewalk. A dog in a yard lunges against his chain, barking. The girl does not turn, for this happens every day. Today, however, a weak link in the chain snaps, and the dog bounds over the fence. She screams but the Superhero is in action. He is in front of the girl, his arms outstretched. He has the dog by the neck. He squeezes just a bit too much and they both hear the sickening snap. The girl looks at the broken dog in the Superhero’s hand and begins to cry. His shoulders slump and he drags the dog back into the yard by its collar.


The Superhero drives back to his luxurious home. As always a group of protesters sit on his lawn and scream slogans as he drives past them. The Superhero hates the tree-huggers. If only they know who he was, he thinks. He entered his home and puts on his robe.


The Superhero puts on a fancy blazer and goes to the dinner. It is in his honor, for being the extraordinary businessman he is. Really it is for being extraordinarily rich. He sees the same familiar signs and sighs. The protesters are here too. Damn environmentalists. If only they knew, he thinks. He straightens his blazer and walks inside.

Bunny Slippers

After the dinner he drives back home. The protesters are more riled than ever. They badmouth him and his company. Some especially spirited picketer brings his mother into the fray. After such a long day, he longs for the comfort of his bunny slippers.


The Superhero, frazzled from the night before dresses more quickly today. He forgets to tuck his cape in beneath his shirt. He finds the cape unnecessary but he cannot bring himself to let it go. This puts the protestors into a frenzy. You think you’re some kind of hero, now do you. This gives the Superhero a start. He tugs off the cape and tosses it aside. If only they knew, he thinks.


The Superhero had handpicked his secretary. He particularly likes the slate grey miniskirt she wears every Monday. It brightens up his workweek. He calls her in to bring him his coffee and there it is the highlight of his morning. He stares just a little too long and the secretary becomes uncomfortable. The Superhero remembers himself and he dismisses her. The secretary scurries away. He watches as the miniskirt disappears.


A week later the Superhero arrives at work and calls in his secretary. The Superhero is very angry. There is no miniskirt today. In its place is a nicely pressed black pantsuit. He barks as he dismisses the secretary.


The Superhero was having a really bad day. Profits were down, there was no miniskirt, and the protesters were being particularly loud again. In a fit of rage he slams his car door just a little too hard. The glass shatters. Encouraged the protesters shout louder. He stomps his feet as he makes his way to the house. If only they knew he thinks again, much louder this time. The Superhero has an idea. A very stupid idea. He turns toward the crowd and rips off his suit, revealing his costume. The crowd does not stop. No one is surprised.

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