When I was six and fresh-faced I realized early the type of person I was.
All it took was a cold November day and a tyrant on the jungle gym. I was minding my own business, slamming Pogs for keepsies like any good 90’s kid when it happened. A little kindergartner screamed out as the earlier mentioned baddie tugged him down from a climbing net. I ran to the scene quickly, well it happened right behind me, so more like a quick turnaround. I didn’t hesitate as I grabbed his shoulder, turning around the greasy bully and unleashing my best Red Ranger impersonation in the form of right hand to the nose. He bled and cried. I told him to get lost or I’d pop him again. I got a weeks detention and had to Bart Simpson “I will not hit other children” a 100 times. If you’re asking if I would do it again the answer is yes. 1000 times over.
I sadly drifted from that young feisty six years old letting the cruel reality of life beat me down into a disenfranchised millennial. I no longer fought the injustices around me and I didn’t care to. It wasn’t my job. I couldn’t even find a real one. Eventually, I managed. I went to college, graduated then went back for something else. This is when it started.
That little six year old inside me (wait, that doesn’t sound right) started to nag. “Your meant to do good. Be better.” I ignored him at first but the little bastard kept at it. “Be better” he kept saying. So I did. Eventually, I finished college and started to try to be better. I got a job working an afterschool program and eventually a night job at a house as a developmental service worker (I get to sleep there, it’s the best job ever). I thought that would make him shut up. It did not.
I have a lot of free time. Not “unemployed” free time but enough to get me in serious trouble thanks to my overactive imagination and a misguided sense of purpose. I try to dull it with various substances (shhhhh, I’ll never tell) and by searching out more employment. So I turned to writing. Maybe creating something for people would help silence this stupid kid.
For a second it did but he’s a persistent little shit. “Be better”. He wouldn’t shut up. So I asked him. Well by that I mean I had a conversation with myself posing as my younger self. It went like this.
“You keep saying that you little punk.”
“Then do it.”
“I’m a good person! What do you want from me.”
“Yea you’re good, but the only thing worse than bad guys are good guys who just stand around while the bad stuff happens.”
“You’re a kid version of me. How are you this smart!?”
He left me to ponder his Obi-Wan like wisdom. I sat there, racking my brain. Eventually, I came to the only conclusion that made sense.
I’d become a superhero.
The first? The last? I have no idea but it got him to shut up. I was going make six-year-old me proud. I was going be the greatest hero this world has ever seen. Wait, I’m an out of shape twenty-eight-year-old with no combat training and the tech resources of a 3rd world nation. I’m doing what now?
So here we are. Your reading this and I’m probably in my basement doing push-ups and punching the wooden support beam until my knuckles bleed. Actually, I’m playing Sea of Thieves but it just came out. Get off my back. I have a long way to go but I’m ready.
So where do we start?
I need a name, a gimmick, maybe some sort of animal sidekick? Do I team up? Where do I go if I only want to tackle world ending events on a cosmic scale or does everyone start punching bad guys for stolen purses? All great questions I’m going to have to figure out on my way to becoming a great hero. I’m finally ready for this, are you?
(I’m going die in a dungy crack house aren’t I? At least six-year-old me will be proud… right?)
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