Everyone yearns to be a superhero. I mean, who wouldn't? They're loved by the community, and they have awesome powers. They can fly, they can breathe underwater; anything's possible for a superhero. They are but figments of our imagination, however. Superheroes aren't real. I've certainly never seen some guy in tights fly through the sky.

I will make them real. I will make superheroes exist. Soon, because of me, this world will have these beings called superheroes. We will love them in real life just as we have loved them on novels and graphic novels. These superior beings will be our saviors; they will cleanse this world of otherworldly villains.

But this goal of mine will never come true if all I make are superheroes. Why? Because there are no villains. There are no saviors if there is no evil. Sure, there's the occasional bank robbery or attempted suicide, but that's what the police is for. If the world's problems stay at such low levels, superheroes would be unneeded. So, to make these grand beings needed, I will also have to create villains.

Villains. The first thing that comes to mind when the word villain is mentioned is some super short guy with burnt hair and inch-thick glasses. That kind of person, however, definitely would not make a very good villain. It's not only superheroes who need to be buff and cool. Villains have to be pro too in order to provide a challenge for these heroes. I'll have to fix this image of mine.

Purple is the color of villains, or at least according to my demented mind. The color for superheroes would be red. Red and purple. How nice. I run (crawling would be a much more accurate description) to my desk and manage to find a few scraps of blank paper. I reach into my pants pocket to get my red pen. I'll sketch out the superhero first. Superheroes are easy to think of. Just make a Mary Sue and voila, a superhero. I lay down the basic sketches of my nine superheroes.

Nine's a very nice number. There shall be nine villains and nine superheroes. My thoughts aren't coherent, but who cares? My ramblings will be the beginnings of these eighteen beings. Nine and nine is eighteen, right? I never was good at math. Then again, I don't need to be good at math to create good guys and bad guys.

After doodling all over the few sheets of paper, the eighteen designs are finished. I stare at them; I burn them into my brain. Now all I see when I close my eyes are these eighteen designs. Now convinced that I have memorized them all, I crumple up the paper and throw it into my mouth. My teeth slowly chew the paper as it soaks up my saliva. Disgusting? I'm pretty sure I am. It's not good to waste paper, so I ate it. Nothing wrong with that.

And now! The grand finale! It is time to create this new race of humans! They're all male, of course. We don't want them reproducing and making more superheroes. That would be a problem. I attempt to jump up, but because of gravity (and my excessive mass), I failed. Whatever. I trudge to my bed and roll onto it. I fall asleep in seconds. Cheesy, huh? But sleeping is the only way for me to create things. Why? I don't dream because I eat my dreams. And in this case, I'm throwing up superheroes. Eighteen people come out of my mouth. They're all made of paper, but no one cares. They feel more like steel.

I say goodbye to them, for the police have barged into my house. I guess vigilantes aren't welcomed here.