The latest offense happened on Friday night. My name is Harry Bailey and I was sitting in the Starbucks, sipping a latte covered in sprinkles and noshing on a chocolate croissant, unwinding from a long week and typing on my Mac Book Pro. I recently left my job as a paralegal and decided to work full time on my t.v. pilot. It was much harder that I expected. I was toying around with a number of different scenarios when a young man in his early twenties at the small table adjacent to mine, so close we were practically rubbing elbows, started talking on his cellphone in a loud voice. He was gesticulating wildly and describing a keg party he attended the night before. I was afraid he was going to spill his cappuccino with a triple shot of espresso (an educated guess based on the fact that the guy was practically wired for sound) on my computer. As a result I suffered from an acute case of writer’s block and cellphone rage.
Just as I started to imagine clutching cellphone guy by his throat, an older man, nattily dressed in a Prada suit, put down his mocha and arose from his table. He purposefully strode to the young man’s table and swiftly extracted the cellphone from his hand and slammed it in cellphone guy’s cappuccino. I immediately exhaled with relief, not realizing that the espresso laced concoction had splashed onto my computer. I was about to thank the stranger for his heroic act when suddenly I felt a tingle in my fingers. Confused, I looked down at my hands. I literally saw little bolts of electricity jumping from my computer to my fingers. Then I must have passed out because when I opened my eyes I was prone on the floor of the coffee shop, customers oblivious to my odd situation.
I shook my head a few times to clear the cobwebs and then returned to my seat. I took a sip of my now cold latte and then stretched my fingers. That tingle. There it was again. But no bolts of electricity. “I must be imagining things,” I thought. I did feel a bit tired so I decided to gather up my things and get another latte for the road. I still had some writing to do.
I moseyed up to the counter and addressed the barista, Janet, with a smile. “What can I get for you?” she asked sweetly.
‘I’d like another latte with sprinkles, please,” I said as I pointed to the drink menu on the wall behind the young woman’s head. Without warning, a hole, as if from a laser beam, began to form in the middle of the board. As we both stared, mouths agape, the hole simultaneously spread and sizzled. Just then the board began to crack. Without thinking, I leapt over the counter in a single bound and whisked the woman from the arms of danger (or the coffee menu of most certain death).
Once we both had recovered from that little scare, the barista gave me the latte on the house and a kiss on the cheek. I said casually, “It was nothing,” and walked out the door as if this kind of thing happens on a daily basis.
“What just happened back there?” I wondered aloud. “Was it I that caused the menu board to destruct or was it coincidence?” Whatever the case, it was a good thing I had spent all that time in college mastering the high jump so that I could rescue the damsel in distress.
What a strange night! I couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened to me. Once I walked out the door and into the night I decided to experiment a little. At first I pointed my left finger at a trash can. I watched in amazement as a hole formed in the side of the can. Ooh. Cool! Not wanting to destroy public property any further I decided to try something else. My car! Why not? It was a hunk of junk anyway. As I approached it I pointed my right finger toward my car and, lo and behold, a hole started to form once again. Right then and there I realized my life had changed forever and that it was within my control to use this power for good or evil or a really great t.v. pilot.
[Margaret and Caroline, with contributions from Snake, aka Mom]
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My first thought was that I now had it within my power to dissolve cell phones at will. I relished the thought of seeing some overweight woman in a SUV, eating a donut and talking on her cell phone, trying to make a u-turn in heavy traffic. Zap! No more cell phone. Upon reflection, however, it occurred to me that there were two things I had to figure out first. One was whether I could control my new-found, remarkable, ability. How precisely could I aim my finger? I didn't want to dissolve the hand that held the 'phone... or the woman's head, for that matter. I could be facing the possibility of some serious collateral damage. And the other thing was how to turn the power off, so to speak. This could be a kind of Midas touch. I could inadvertently obliterate my din-din!
For the next few hours I experimented. The power did not seem to diminish over time, and I discovered - much to my relief - that it didn't take long for the holes I created to close up. A few minutes after I gave my target the whammy the hole disappeared and, as far as I could tell, it was no worse for having been been zapped. So much for trying to get rid of my car, but then how would I have explained the damage to the insurance adjuster? I also discovered, the Starbucks sign notwithstanding, that I had to want to use my new, er... talent for it to work. I had to will it to happen. That was a relief. Apparently I was in no danger of shooting myself in the foot.
I was curious about the holes. They weren't just holes through an object to the other side. They were dark. Looking into one of them was like peering into a deep well. If the holes didn't just go through the targets, where did they go? What was on the other side? I couldn't resist putting my hand into one. I hesitated, and approached it carefully. Slowly. Gingerly. It was difficult to bring myself to reach out. Finally, like a swimmer getting into a pool of cold water, I took the plunge. I jabbed my hand into the hole. My hand, and my arm up to my elbow, disappeared! "Ye gods!" I thought to myself. "I've lost my arm!" I jerked backward, stumbling and falling. Dazed, I took an inventory. There was my arm, intact and unharmed! I wiggled my fingers. Everything seemed to work. Although I was afraid, I was irresistibly drawn to learn more. I had to find out what was on the other side of the holes. As they weren't just a rip in the material object at which I aimed my finger, could they actually be holes in the very fabric of spacetime itself?
The size of the holes I created seemed to depend on how long I focused my energy on the targets. After more experimentation, having become satisfied that I was in no danger of injuring myself, I aimed my finger at the base of a stone wall and, with intense concentration, pointed at it for almost a minute. A large hole appeared, shimmering around the edges, its margins slightly out of focus as if I were seeing it through a pool of water. I rushed forward. I felt as if someone, something were propelling me forward. I couldn't help myself. I stepped through the hole.
[Maddog]
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Just as I put my first leg through the hole, however, I jerked it back. It suddenly occurred to me that I could get stuck if the hole closed up like the previous ones. I shook my head and wondered what I was thinking. Clearly I needed a plan before I started going off half-cocked, no matter how curious I was. A little more experimentation was required. How on earth was I going to keep the hole open?
Just then I reflected on my current situation. I didn’t have a date for the weekend, I was out of a job and my t.v. pilot was on stall. With nothing better to do and a certain amount of excitement and spontaneity lacking in my life I decided to take the plunge. "No time like the present," I said aloud, took a deep breath and jumped in feet first.
As my feet touched the "other side" I looked around. It was as if I had passed through a door to another version of my own world, one with some strange twists. First, I found myself dressed head to toe in orange spandex accessorized by a red cape and red boots. On my newly broadened, well-muscled chest was a bright white lightning bolt outlined in rhinestones that sparkled in the light. "I am a superhero!" I thought giddily. Then I paused. "I wonder what the lightning bolt means and what my powers are."
Second, I was back in a Starbucks. I was puzzled by the incongruency of the outfit and the coffee shop, but then I spied a coded message on the wall. The note read “ethay allHay ofyay usticeJay isyay undergoingyay enovationray andyay isthay illway ebay ethay uperheroessay emporarytay eetingmay aceplay.” "Ahh, a temporary place for us superheroes to meet with the added bonus of getting juiced on caffeine while we shared wrongs that needed to be righted. This is so cool!"
Just then, in walked Superman. "Hey, Lightning," he said. "It's great to see you!" The two superheroes did a complicated superhero handshake complete with hip bump. "How're your laser fingers? Are you ready to perform eye surgery yet? Har, har!"
Lightning, aka Harry, wondered how he got to the Starbucks of Justice, how Superman knew his name, and when Superman developed a sense of humor. When his fingers began to tingle, he flashed back to the cappacucino spill on his computer and the result, his newfound ability to use his fingers as lasers. He wondered if Superman knew his secret identity, and more importantly, could he go back through the hole or was this his new destiny? "At least I look rugged and manly in these tights!" he thought. "Not all guys can get away with this look."
Roused from his musings, he heard his name being called. "Latte for Lightning!" He turned and walked to the counter and as the barista handed him the latte he noticed her name was Janet. Things are getting curiouser and curiouser.
[Caroline and Margaret]
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As if everything weren't strange enough, I noticed that, right after Superman walked into the Starbucks and said,"Hey!" I slipped into a third person mode. I became 'he' instead of 'I.' When Janet Reno, the barista in the Wonder Woman costume (not a pretty sight, I can tell you) announced that my latte was ready I thought to myself, "he turned and walked to the counter." I decided that it wasn't so much an out of body experience as an involuntary use of the royal third person, as when the Queen commented that, "We are not amused." After all, we super heroes are pretty important people. "Kneel down before my omnipotence, puny nobody lowly twit!" I mused. This Lightning stuff, or should I say, Mr. Lightening to the hoi polloi, had some real potential. I couldn't wait to zap some bad guys and revel in public adoration.
It occurred to me, as I sipped my latte, to wonder about one particularly important superhero thing. How does a fighter for truth, justice, Chevrolet, apple pie, the flag and emerging democracies all over the planet go to the bathroom? After all, here I was, wrapped in orange Spandex from head to toe. There were no visible openings anywhere in the costume, which fit as if it had been sprayed on. "What happens when I have to pee?" I wondered. I felt a twinge of panic. As I pondered my predicament, a muscular woman in an incredibly tight blue superhero costume with a skull and crossbones on the chest strode into the coffee shop and ordered a raspberry frappe. I struck up a conversation and in a moment we were chatting as if we were old friends. She said that her name was The Blue Harpy. I felt I had to ask about what I perceived to be a significant drawback to the typical crime fighter outfit. "What do you do when you've gotta go?" I asked.
The Blue Harpy smiled and responded, "You know, I had the same question when I first started in the superhero business a few years ago. I never did figure a graceful way to take care of that particular problem. After all, when you're in hot pursuit of some malefactor, you can't take an hour and a half to get out of your hero suit. Besides, once you do, it's all baggy. They have to be washed to regain their elasticity. So I solved the problem by going to a cosmetologist and having every hair on my body below my eyes lasered off. Next stop, the tattoo parlor. I had this baby tattooed on. Now there's no problem getting in and out of those pesky hero duds. The only catch is that when the weather is especially hot or cold you have to be careful what you sit on. Yowch!"
Just then, Superman entered the cafe and announced that the meeting was about to begin. I was anxious to learn what was on the agenda and what my role was to be.
[Maddog]
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When Superman was pounding the gavel to bring the room to order, I casually wondered where Superman had gone when I was engaged by the Blue Harpy. Had he left his notes in the car? Had he gone to rescue a damsel in distress?
I vaguely realized Superman was speaking. I heard him say, “First, I want to welcome our newest member, Lightning.” Applause. “Who wants to recommend a tattoo parlor? Just kidding ! As many of you know, the Blue Harpy, our resident superheroine (not to be intended as a pun about her life in the 60s) has already cornered Lightning and tried to sell him on the benefits of an all body tattoo. Of course, as we superheroes know, you don’t want to tattoo the package. So, as part of Lightning’s indoctrination we will share the supersecret method for going potty. It is a great invention called Velcro. When we first got together back in the early 1940s, we tried cockleburs as a fastening device which proved to be quite painful. Fortunately, George de Mestral, the Swiss engineer, invented Velcro® and we latched onto that. We were once again pain-free and free to use the potty. Lamentably, the Blue Harpy missed the class that covered the wonders of Velcro®. She was busy trying to harness her newly found superpower, creating a windstorm of nagging (useful for nagging bad guys to turn from their evil ways), when she was accidentally nailed in the head by a gold brick. The gold brick had been dropped by a dirty rotten scoundrel and was accidentally picked up in the ensuing windstorm. When she regained consciousness, she had the burning desire to pee. After spending a good thirty minutes trying to separate herself from her costume and then realizing that it had lost its shape in the process, The Blue Harpy had a flash of brilliance. She went to see the local tattoo artist and the rest as they say is history. Needless to say, we now offer classes in 'Harnessing Your Super Power With No Negative Effects' and 'How to Dress Like a SuperHero and Still Be Able to Go Potty'. "
[Margaret and Caroline]
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As relieved as I was to hear about Velcro, something else Superman said caught my attention. "When we first got together back in the 1940s..." If all the members of The League of Spandex Wrapped Super Heroes (the LSWSH, or L-Swish as it was popularly referred to) were fighting injustice and knavery in the early '40s the youngest of the original members must have been born in the early '20s. That would make them in their mid- to late eighties! Incredible! Mon Dieu! Obviously, this arcane and elite group of eccentrics that stands for stamping out evil, cell phones, and big hair must have found the key to immortality! A fountain of youth! A really good cosmetic surgeon! Vitamin B12! As attested to by my membership, and The Blue Harpy's (the Harpster as she was known by her friends) the group occasionally took in new blood. But apparently no-one ever retired! Clearly, I had a lot to learn about this club that I had involuntarily found myself a member of.
I snapped out of my reverie as Superman began to read the day's assignments from a loose leaf binder at the podium. "Lightning," he said. "You and the Harpster will patrol the south side of Our Fair City. As you know," he said, turning to me, "we super heroes never do anything to prevent crime. We only respond to a crisis in progress. We intervene once the bad guys have started the heist, or kidnapped the heiress, or aimed a death ray at the earth from a stealth satellite in low orbit. We respond after Timmy has already fallen into the well or the runaway horse is about to trample the old woman in the wheelchair. But you won't see us at a town hall meeting or working with the leaders of minority communities to change the culture of crime in their neighborhoods. No, we seek out misdeeds as they occur. So happy hunting and bon chance, mes amis."
As we walked out of the door, I looked down at my red boots with the sparkles and shifted my cape a bit. I turned to the Harpster and said, "Do you suppose I can fly?" I felt as if I could at least work up a flit or two. "And what about the bad guys, if they're armed? Am I invulnerable like Superman? Can I dodge gunfire like The Flash? Can I deflect bullets with special gold wristlets like Wonder Woman?"
"Hon," the Harpster replied, giving me a reassuring hug. "You'll just have to find out for yourself as you go along. At least we know you're really good at making holes in things." I stepped back. There was something about being hugged by a naked woman with a blue tattooed-on leotard with a skull and crossbones on it that made me nervous. "OK, Lightning," she said, "Let's go gettum." I could hear the tassels on my boots slap the red leather as we ran for the parking lot and the ion-powered Harpycar that she had strategically parked in the shade to make sure that the leather seats were not too hot.
"Up, up and away!" I cried.
"Uh, Lightning," the Harpster interjected, "that's already taken. Let's just go pound some evil butt."
[Maddog]
___________________________
Approaching the Harpster's car, I discovered that some superheroes have some pretty super junk food habits. I pulled open the door of the Harpycar and out tumbled assorted wrappers indicating a fondness for Twinkies, Ding Dongs and Snoballs. I looked in the back of the car and discovered a stash of empty Diet Dr. Pepper cans. Apparently my cohort keeps her nagging powers at full strength by loading up on sugar and caffeine. I'd hate to have to face her after a triple espresso and a slice of pecan pie!
Once I cleared a place to sit, one that wasn't sticky and wouldn't leave some strange residue on my cape, and sat down my partner climbed in and we took off in search of crimes that needed to be thwarted.
Soon I heard some static and then a voice detailing a crime in progress. "Yikes! Maybe my auditory sense had been enhanced as well as a result of that latte spill!" I thought. Just to be sure, however, I asked the Harpster if she had heard a voice.
"Oh, that," she said with a smile. "That's my little police scanner. When I first became part of the superhero crew, I found it rather tedious to go in search of crimes to circumvent. Instead I found it more relaxing to grab some snacks and a good book and wait for the crimes to call me." Before pulling away from the curb the Harpster reached behind her, opened a small cooler and offered me a snack. "Ding Dong? Diet Dr. Pepper?" Tanked up and topped off we sped off listening to the babbling scanner.
[Caroline]
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“The Harpster is one fast driver. Formula One should draft her,” I thought. “And she even has a cool outfit, very aerodynamic.”
She brought the car to a screeching halt that involved a very neat parallel parking job. We leapt out to face the crime in progress. As we stood, with knuckles on our hips and our capes flying in the wind, ready for battle I quickly realized that there was no fire, no damsel in distress, no bank robbery in progress. What was the crime and why were we here?
Just then I heard a well-outfitted woman yelling at a slovenly-dressed woman who was walking on the other side of the street. “That outfit is a crime! An abomination. How can you hold up your head walking around like that? Don’t you get cable and watch ‘What Not To Wear?’”
I walked up to the woman and said, “Did you call for help?” She looked at me and said, “I called for defenders against crimes of fashion and I get a blue tattooed woman with bad hair and a man in superhero outfit with rhinestones? I must have dialed the wrong number. Good grief!”
“Yes, ma’am. 911 is to only be used for real crimes. You know, murder, mayhem and the like. I do have a card for Stacey and Clinton, though. Maybe you can give them a call to rescue the poor woman you are berating.”
As the Harpster and I turned leave I said to her, “All this crime fighting makes me hungry for a twinkie. Let’s roll.” Of course, if I ate too many twinkies, I would get a roll and it wouldn’t look too great in this costume!
[Margaret]
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"Wait, wait!" a thought flashed through my head. "Hold up on the Twinkies. I have a better idea." I gave the Harpster a few directions and in moments, at a speed in excess of 200 miles per hour, we pulled into a parking spot at a Taco Cabana. It did occur to me to wonder how I knew where the Taco Cabana was, considering that I was new to this world on The Other Side of the Hole, but I decided that it was some kind of superhero intuition. As we walked into the restaurant, I turned to my blue clad, er, blue companion and asked, "Could you lend me a couple of bucks? I seem to have left my wallet somewhere."
The Blue Harpy looked at me and replied, "What... do I look as if I have any money on me?" Then she smiled and said, "Not to worry. L-SWISH has an account at most of the local establishments so we can just charge our meals."
I was relieved. Clearly, I still had a lot to learn. As we waited for our orders something caught my eye and I reached out toward the Harpster's backside. Quick as a snake, she turned and slapped my hand. I was chagrined. "Sorry," I said. "You have a Ho-Ho wrapper stuck to your butt." She gave me an apologetic look and brushed the cellophane off. Moments later, someone behind the counter shouted, "Nummer fie! Nummer fie! Joor order ees ready! Numero cinco!" We picked up our trays, savaged the condiment bar, and chose a table in the corner.
"I guess I should clean out the Harpycar," my companion commented. "I do seem to be a wrapper magnet. I wasted half an hour, once, trying to catch someone sneaking up on me but it just turned out that I was hearing the crinkle of a Twinkie wrapper that I was inadvertently wearing. Maybe we'll have time to run it through the carwash later and have it vacuumed." She changed the subject. "Our first emergency call was a false alarm, but there will be other crises. While we wait, I'll fill you in on Our Fair City's biggest problem. Most of the crime in the city is the work of the Lord of the Darkside, Maligno. We know he exists, we've seen the consequences of his evil handiwork, we've occasionally thwarted his henchmen in their pursuit of his nefarious plots, but we have never been able to find the mastermind himself. So far, all of our super powers have come to naught. We suspect that there is a mole in L-SWISH, as hard as it is to imagine."
"Well, that's unsettling," I responded. "What are the super heroes doing about it? Surely there must be some way to identify the mole, track down Maligno and his criminal toadies, and bring the sunshine of law and order back to the community!"
"Funny you should ask," the Harpster answered, giving me a sidelong glance. "We on the L-SWISH Council have been discussing strategy and have decided that, as the new guy, you may as yet be unknown to Maligno and his mob of toxic sycophants. You may be our opportunity to get an undercover operative into his organization. A mole of our own."
"But, I....."
"You'll be perfect," she continued. "A few day's worth of whiskers..." she paused and added, "I know. Super heroes never have whiskers. But a little makeup artistry should take care of it..." then she continued. "A few prison tats... we could use Magic Marker if you're squeemish... some piercings, a few chains around your neck, really baggy clothes, $300. basketball shoes... you'd look good."
"But, I....."
"Good!" my blue buddy said. "It's decided. I'll tell Superman and we'll get started right away."
[Maddog}
___________________
As I tried to process what the Harpster had just told me, a strange thought occured to me. How on earth did the L-SWISH Council have time to discuss using me as a mole in Maligno's organization? I had only acquired my "laser fingers" a few hours ago and even more recently passed through to The Other Side of the Hole. By my estimate I had just met this motley crew of superheroes (don't let that fancy handshake with Superman fool you...that was just pure coincidence and as for knowing my name he read it off the back of my costume). Besides, how capable would I be? I had a power but no real idea of how to use it. I thought about this a little more and then turned toward the B.H. (Blue Harpster).
"Wait just a minute! Nothing's decided!" I exclaimed. "I just got here!"
Taken aback by the tone of my voice, the B.H. dropped her head, her chin quivering. Suddenly, I saw a lone tear roll down her cheek. Before I knew it, she was bawling right there in the middle of Taco Cabana. I didn't know what to do or how to respond. I really didn't feel comfortable offering my companion a hug so I settled for patting her hand.
"I'm sorry I raised my voice at you, " I said in all sincerity.
The B.H. blew her nose loudly into a napkin, patted her eyes and took a deep breath. "It's okay. I just figured I could snooker you into agreeing to infiltrate Maligno's mob and then inform the Council that I had convinced you to be our mole. I hoped that I then could get back into the Council's good graces. You see, ever since I did the whole body tattoo thing the superheroes have held me at arm's length. They feel that I have tarnished the superhero image."
In an effort to comfort my companion (and to put off any more discussion of B.H.'s wardrobe misjudgements or Maligno and his crew), I suggested that we stop by the local 7-Eleven and top off our lunch with some super-sized Slurpees and a few sleeves of Ding Dongs.
[Caroline]
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Refreshed with a new dose of caffeine and sugar, we were ready to rock and roll. "So, what does L-Swish do for fun?" I asked curiously.
"Fun?" the B.H. said as if puzzled by the question. "We don't have time for fun. Crime calls our names 24x7, 365."
"Really? It seems if we were better at our jobs we would effectively reduce crime so that we would have time to take vacations, sing in a band or play softball," I challenged.
"Well," B.H. said slyly. "If you infiltrated Maligno's organization and helped us bring him down, we would have lots of time for fun. That guy keeps us all busy!"
Just then I knew I had effectively signed myself up for the role of mole. I should learn to keep my mouth shut. Before I did any infiltrating, though, I was going to have to learn how to effectively use my laser fingers to do any good. I wanted to sizzle, not fizzle, on the job. "Okay," I said. "You got me. When did Superman say that class was again, the one on harnessing your superpowers?"
[Margaret]
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"I think the new semester is starting tomorrow," the Harpster replied. I could tell from her expression that something was bothering her.
"Is something wrong?" I asked. "You look a little down."
The Blue Harpy started to speak, then stopped. After a pause, she said, "I'm sorry to have been so manipulative. It's just that we've been stymied in our efforts to find Maligno. It's frustrating that he stays one step ahead of us. And the idea of a mole in L-SWISH is maddening. You don't have to do this, you know. It's strictly voluntary. I'd hate for something dire to happen to you. And besides, I know that we've only known each other for a short time, but..." B.H. blushed becomingly, "...I kind of like you."
I'm not sure, but I think I may have blushed, too. The only other girl who ever professed to like me was Angina Dinglethorp, an overweight overachiever in my eighth-grade math class. She wore thick glasses and was always slightly damp. I liked to think it was from the excitement of discovering new theorems. I think I was a little bit intimidated by her directness.
I wasn't sure how to respond. "Er, I'll be OK, once I know how to use my super power to my advantage." I swallowed.
"I could go undercover with you. You know, to watch your back," the Harpster answered. "It would also be a good opportunity for me to break the Twinkie habit. Twinkies would be a dead give away." Then she added, in a confidential tone, "I hope you won't think less of me for my habit. It's been a curse. I tell everyone that I had myself tattooed because of the problem of getting into and out of a Spandex super suit. But that's not entirely true. Mostly it's because of all the junk I eat. I put on and take off pounds like you wouldn't believe, and Spandex stretches only so far. It was just too costly to maintain a wardrobe in so many sizes. "And if I were to go undercover with you, it would give me a chance to put on some clothes. Not that I mind running around in my all together... after all, most people thing I'm wearing Spandex... but it can be darn chilly. I'll bet you think I had blue tights inked on. Not so. My legs are just so blue from the air conditioning in this taco joint that they match my leotard tattoo." She continued, lowering her eyes, "But mostly I don't want you to get hurt."
I experienced the tug of an unfamiliar emotion. I was touched. And though she might blimp up from time to time, right now the Harpster looked pretty darn good. I felt the impulse to take her hand. But then I gave myself a shake. I had a duty to fulfill. I had a destiny to achieve.
[Maddog]
__________________
As I shook myself, something fell to the ground. What was this? I bent down to pick up a tattered and worn leather bound book. Now where had this come from? I sure as heck didn't have any pockets in this getup. Maybe someone at the next table over had dropped it. I glanced over, but the couple closest too us had more tatoos than The Harpster, hooded eyes, chains hanging from their pockets and they didn't look like they read much.
I skimmed the first few pages and discovered that this was definitely meant for me to find. The title page simply read, "The Rules."
Ah... maybe Invisible Man was at work here. He must have been following us around this morning, eavesdropping, and literally dropped it by. Clearly he knew I needed this.
Rule 1 Superheros are immortal -- as long as they choose to submit to their calling. They can retire freely at any time, but when they do so, they will revert to the age they should be had they never accepted their calling. (Superman, for instance, would be dead if he chose to hang up the red boots.)[Susan]
Rule 2 No (more) tatoos. The Harpster unfortunately tried this route and we've since ruled it as unbecoming of a Superhero. (Some of the older Superhero costumes did tend to bleed onto the skin in inclimate weather and caused some semi-permanent tatooing, but this doesn't count.)
Rule 3 Absolutely no getting it on with a fellow Superhero. Trust us. It has happened in the past and you don't want to know what happens. This is a difficult Rule to follow. After all, we are all very buff and incredibly good looking. (Have you ever heard of an unattractive Superhero? And, no, the Incredible Hulk was not a Superhero. He was a raging monster created after physicist Dr. Bruce Banner was caught in the blast of a gamma bomb he created. He causes destruction – he does not stamp out evil, cell phones or big hair, as do we.)
Rule 4 No breaking Rule #3 – NO MATTER WHAT.
Rule 5 We’ve all been given great powers, but Superheros must be humble. We could obviously kick evil *ss with little or no effort, but let’s have some fun out there! No breaking free and capturing the enemy until the very last minute. Oh, and you’ve gotta let them get away occasionally. We don’t want to work ourselves out of our jobs. (If we didn’t have evil, we wouldn’t be needed and if we weren’t needed, we’d have to relinquish our Superpowers and if we relinquished our Superpowers, we’d lose our immortality and if we lost our immortality, Superman for sure would die immediately. You don’t want to be responsible for killing Superman, do you? DO YOU?)
Rule 6 Follow all the rules. Always.
__________________
As I read the Rules my heart sank. Not that I had "getting it on" high on my list of priorities, but it was probably on there somewhere. And I was attracted to the beautiful, if somewhat out of kilter, Harpster. I wondered, too, what the dire warning was all about. I'd have to ask. You'd think that all the tight Spandex everyone... well, almost everyone... wore that it would be deterrent enough to any amorous fraternization among L-SWISH members. As for relinquishing super powers, I wondered if going back through a hole to the Other Side, the place that I came from, counted. If I did go home, would I remain a super hero (after all my ability to make holes in things did originate at my local Starbucks) or would I revert to plain old Harry Bailey. The Harry Bailey who couldn't get a date. Who spent a lot of time watching TV and writing scripts that probably wouldn't sell. Losing my own immortality didn't seem like such a big deal 'cause I'm only thirty years old. After all, it wasn't as if I were an old codger like Superman. Heck, he was leaping tall buildings and outrunning locomotives in the late 1920's.
I turned to B.H. (or as I now thought of her, the Blue Beauty) and held up The Rules. "I guess you're familiar with this, having been a super hero for awhile."
She looked surprised. "Where did you get that? I didn't see Superman give it to you at the meeting earlier today." I told her how I'd come by the book and my thought that perhaps The Invisible Man had dropped it off. "That guy creeps me out," she said. "I've always suspected that he was a bit of a peeping Tom, turning up in places he doesn't belong. I don't think he has the confidence of the L-SWISH council, either. Or else he'd make the perfect undercover agent."
"Or" I thought, "the perfect mole."
Then I continued, "Is this book legit?" She nodded her head. "So tell me," I went on, "what about this Rule Number Three? What happens if two super heroes do break the rule?"
Maddog
_________________
B.B. spoke hesitantly, apparently fighting between her desire for me and telling me the truth. Her struggle was certainly understandable. Afterall I am a buff superhero, desired by many (at least in my own mind). Just then, the words came tumbling out.
"If you and I, for example, were to, uh, unite, then our superhero powers would become co-mingled in undesirable ways. It happened when Superman and Wonder Woman started swapping spit. In Wonder Woman, Superman's super-human speed was combined with her ability to speak a multitude of languages. She began speaking Greek faster than a speeding bullet. While she would be popular at the next auction in ancient Greece, it was not very useful. Superman, in turn, began wearing a golden tiara which he would throw at villans to disable them. It was handy for nailing bad guys, but it really tarnished the tough-as-nails superhero image. Needless to say, we were down two effective superheros at the time and countless criminals roamed free, creating mayhem across the land. Eventually, they ended their union for the good of L-Swish. It took many years but eventually their super powers reverted to their original states. That was a rough time back in the 50s and it is only brought up when absolutely necessary. It's not something you are going to find on Wikipedia when searching for information about superheroes."
I found myself wondering what would happen if my sizzle power was combined with B.B.s whirlwind of nagging. I could picture spinning crazily, burning holes in everything around me. That, certainly, would not be useful in any crisis. I was just going to have to remind myself of this nightmare whenever my attraction to B.B. started to surface. I would sacrifice my own desires for the good of the world. Well, at least it was noble.
If B.B. and I were going to be able to continue working together (if you could call swigging Diet D.P. and munching Ding Dongs work), she was going to need some clothes. Since there was a sale at Macy's (it was the biggest sale of the year), I took her shopping. She was going to need something to wear if we were going to infiltrate Maligno's mob. "What does one wear," I wondered? Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied Stacy and Clinton appeared. Surely, they would have tips on the appropriate dress for mob infiltration. I hurried over, B.B. in tow, to ask their advice.
[Margaret]
________________________
"We need a little advice about what to wear," I said as we approached the two fashionistas. "I wonder if you could give us a few minutes and a bit of your sage counsel?"
Stacy looked at me and then surveyed the Harpster. "You two may be beyond help," she commented in an irritating New York accent, made nasally resonant by her big nose. "But Clinton and I like a challenge. Don't we, Clinton?" She kicked him in the shin. Clinton nodded. "We don't usually do pro bono work," she continued, "but I suppose we could make an exception for L-SWISH. Besides, we're on hiatus right now. The network showed episodes of What Not To Wear morning, noon, and night. So many that it finally brought even the most avid viewers to their knees. They begged for mercy. So the brains at the network decided that a little break would be a good idea. I don't mind a little time off, but Clinton and I are getting a little bit bored. Aren't we, Clinton?" She kicked him in the shin again and again he nodded. "So what can we do for you?"
I explained to them that we needed to go under cover and had no idea where to begin when it came to putting together an appropriate wardrobe. Stacy and Clinton stepped back and gave us a look of appraisal. "I'm not sure where to start with you," Clinton said, taking in my orange Spandex body suit with sparkles, my red boots with tassels and my cape, "But you (he looked at B.H.) are certainly a tabula rasa."
"We've never dressed anyone to look like criminals," Stacy added, "But we'll give it a shot. NIck can do something with your hair," she remarked to the Harpster. She paused reflectively. "I suppose your hair can be cut with scissors," she asked, "or does it take some special tool like an arc welding torch or the jaws of life?" B.H. assured her that scissors would do, and Stacy continued. "Carmindy can do wonders with your face, too."
I had to interrupt. "Carmindy?" I asked. "Where did she get a name like that, poor girl?" Clinton looked bored, as if he had been asked the same question many times, then spoke. "Her father's two favorite entertainments were Bizet's opera, Carmen, and the TV sitcom, Mork and Mindy. You figure it out." I couldn't help thinking to myself that she was lucky his favorite shows weren't The Waltons and Dean Martin. She'd be Walmart.
"OK," said the Harpster. "I'm game. How about you, Lightning?" I concurred. She went on. "Tell me, you two fashion gurus, what does a female criminal wear these days? And can we make it quick? We have a evil mastermind and a dirty rotten turncoat of a mole to catch!"
[Maddog]
____________________
Stacy and Clinton looked at one another, puzzled looks on their faces. "Hmmm. We've redressed plenty of dumpster divers and thrift store aficionados but never a self-proclaimed criminal wannabee. In what style does this evil mastermind of yours dress?" queried Stacy.
"Does the name Maligno mean anything to you?" I said quietly.
Suddenly Stacy and Clinton's eyes lit up. "Of course it does!" answered Clinton, finally coming to life. "A while back, before we went on hiatus, we featured one of Maligno's henchwomen. Maligno himself requested that we help her. She was a mess! She had a real penchant for low cut ripped jeans and very low cut, belly baring tops without the benefit of a bra. And boy did she have quite the muffin top! To make a long story short we made her into a stunning agent of crime."
"Oh, goody," trilled B.H. "There is hope for us yet!" She began jumping around excitedly.
I looked around a little self-consciously. As taken as I was with B.H. I did find her jumping for joy a little disconcerting. If her sagging boobs flopped around any harder she would soon take flight.
Stacy and Clinton hustled us off for an overhaul. Since time was of the essence we didn't bother with the humiliation of the 360 degree mirror and the bashing of our wardrobes (besides, we superheroes only have one basic outfit). In no time the fashionistas had me dressed in a fine Armani suit. Thankfully, I didn't need much help from Nick (I have the traditional fabulous superhero hair) and Carmindy only recommended sunscreen for my face (to help with the ageless look).
Things took a little longer with the Harpster. First, she had to go through a bra fitting. Stacy told her that no self-respecting henchwoman would go out without having the girls "locked and loaded." Then, the two fitted her in a lovely printed Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress and a pair of Christian Louboutin slingback pumps. Next, it was on to Nick. He highlighted B.H.'s hair and styled it in a fashionable bob. Finally, Carmindy worked her magic. With a lot of spackle and color she made the superheroine turned criminal into quite the looker.
Once they were finished with us we reunited in the main room. "Shut up!" Stacy exclaimed. "Are we good or what?"
I took a look at B.H. and knew then and there that it was going to be tough to adhere to Rule 3!
[Caroline]
______________________
Just then, as I stood there in Macy's contemplating my feelings for B.H. and how I would be able to keep our relationship professional, I heard Enrico Iglesias' crooning the words that reflected the true desire of my heart...
I can be your hero, baby
I can kiss away the pain
And I will stand by you forever
You can take my breath away
You can take my breath away
[Margaret]
________________
I snapped back to my senses. Daydreaming wasn't going to get us anywhere in the crime fighting department and, with Rule 3 looming over my head, it wasn't going to get me anywhere in the romance department, either. I decided that being a super hero wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Rats. I turned to Stacy and commented, "You know, this isn't exactly what I had in mind. I thought criminals looked more like, in a man's case, an ex-con, gangbanger, drug dealer sleeze, and in a woman's case, an ex-con, hooker, drug dealer, woman wrestler sleeze. We look as if we just stepped out of the board room of a Fortune 500 company!"
Stacy responded, "We don't do sleeze. It would be like What Not To Wear in reverse. We dress people up, not down. But look. You two can be white collar criminals. Embezzlers. Insider traders. Ponzi schemers. Fraud meisters. Pretend you used to work for Enron."
Just then, the Harpster exclamed, "Lightning! I just got a call on my cell phone! L-SWISH has just captured one of Malingo's minions and we've been asked to conduct the interrogation! Let's do a light speed boogie back to headquarters!"
"Cell phone?" I exclaimed as we ran for the car. "Where did you get a cell phone?"
The Harpster stopped. "It's a clever miniature device fitted into my ear canal," she replied. "It's no bigger than a lima bean. No, that's too big. It's about like a garbanzo bean. No, still too big. I'd say it's about like a pea. Yeah, a pea. You know, one of those little green round things that grow in a pod. That your mother made you eat when you were little, even though you hated them."
"We coulda been back at headquarters already!" I said. "Put a sock in it and let's go!"
Maligno's man was in Interrogation Room 1. Superman had softened him up and he seemed ready to talk. "No one, other than confederates like you, has ever seen Maligno," I began. "What does he look like?"
"He's a scary person," our captive answered, reflexively looking over his shoulder and shifting his eyes as if he were afraid that his boss might hear him. "Like Superman, he's from another planet. But unlike Superman, he came from an antimatter galaxy. Because antimatter and matter annihilate each other when they come in contact he wears a special suit of dark crimson that acts as a barrier between him and our world. Don't ask me what his suit is made of... if it were antimatter it wouldn't serve its purpose. He'd disappear in an intense burst of energy as soon as it came into contact with something. But if it were made of matter, the result would be the same as soon as he tried to put it on. Foom! It must be a pretty special fabric. Still, you wouldn't catch me touching it."
Our captive went on to explain that working for Maligno had some plusses. He was an equal opportunity employer. He was adamant about equal pay for equal work. He didn't have henchmen, he had henchpersons. He provided sick leave and three weeks vacation to everyone who had been with him for two or more years. There was an annual company picnic. But there were also some drawbacks, and that's why our prisoner was willing to talk. He was trying to break free from Maligno's powerful grip. "Maligno puts a premium on loyalty," he said. "When you sign on, he has a chip implanted in your brain. It's a tiny explosive device. If he suspects you of disloyalty he pushes a button and it's sayonara, baby. I might add that the turnover is fierce."
"Tell us about Maligno's weaknesses. How can we get close to him?" the Harpster asked.
"There's only one way," he answered. "It would be difficult and dangerous, but I think the way to do it would be... Urk! Ack! Gak! Ug!" Our captive slipped to the floor. Maligno, from the bowels of his secret headquarters, had pushed the button. Sayonara, baby!
"Er," said B.H. "What now?"
[Maddog}
______________________________
While B.H., Lightning and Superman pondered the sudden demise of their captive, a ripple of fear passed through the evil Maligno's henchmen standing around the master's lair of evil, darkness and petty crime. They had just witnessed the termination of one of their own on the big flat screen that dominated the center of the hideout.
One of the henchmen nudged his neighbor and whispered, "How did Maligno know where to find traitorous Tom?"
Maligno overheard the man's question and laughed, "Bwa ha ha!" He continued, "You think I would put an explosive chip in each of your heads and not know where you were at all times? The chip also contains a locator which feeds your exact position into my computer. On top of that it allows me to listen to what you are saying if the computer indicates that you are in a compromising location. If any of you even thinks of betraying me or escaping my evil clutches, think again. Once you work for me, you work for me forever! Bwa ha ha!"
"Now men," Maligno said as if nothing had happened, "we have a full agenda. Our big task is to pull off the biggest heist of all time. To accomplish this we need to create some diversions. We don't need to L-SWISH folks gumming up the works for us and interfering with our ultimate plan. To that end, Calamitous Sam, form a team. You and your group will be on havoc patrol. Wreak away. Heinous Seamus, form a team as well. You and your group are on murder and mayhem patrol. That ought to keep the superheroes busy. The rest of you are with me. I will divulge the details once the others have begun." Afraid that Maligno might think that they were not fully committed, the henchmen eagerly formed groups and went about their evil ways.
As Maligno and his confederates worked, B.H., Lightning and Superman called an emergency meeting of the L-SWISH Council. As Superman collected his thoughts B.H. and Lightning made a Starbucks run. They returned to headquarters with the fuel for thought just as the rest of the members were taking their seats.
Superman gave a quick overview of what had taken place in the interrogation room. There were murmurs and head shakes. The L-SWISH Council had been hunting for Maligno for years. This was the best intel they had to date and then POOF! their intel was gone and so, it seemed was Maligno.
Suddenly, Lightning spoke up. "I know I am new here and we don't know where to find Maligno at the moment, but we know that he is not who he claims to be!"
Collectively, the Council turned toward Lightning. "What are you talking about?" asked B.H.
"Well," began Lightning, "back on my side of the hole I took a few science classes in college. This whole antimatter business is largely theoretical. On a cellular and molecular level it doesn't exist, at least not here on this side or the other side of the hole. Therefore, Maligno, while an evil super being, is really just an evil super being in a crimson suit. He just sells this matter/anti-matter stuff to his cronies as yet another way to get them to keep the faith, so to speak."
[Caroline]
_________________
In the excitement of the moment I had slipped back into the superhero habit of referring to myself in the third person. Wonder Woman smiled at me and said, "Don't worry about it, dear boy. When I was the Attorney General I caught myself doing the same thing. "I used to say things to congressmen and senators like, 'General Reno thinks you're a twit.'" She shrugged. "Well," she went on somewhat defensively, "she, that is, I, really was surrounded by twits. After all, what is the federal government but Twit Central?"
Captain Marvel made an impatient sound and looked at me. "You doubt the existence of antimatter? The existence of antiparticles for electrons was predicted in 1928 by no lesser a person than Paul Dirac, the father of quantum mechanics. Four years later, the positron was actually discovered by Carl Anderson. It took 23 years, but the antiproton was discovered and the following year, in 1956, the antineutron was discovered! And a few nuclei of antimatter, such as the antideuteron, have been created in the laboratory. Why, in 1995, nine atoms of antihydrogen were created at CERN." He shook his head. "Tsk, tsk." He went on. "For a time scientists considered the possibility that entire galaxies of antimatter could have evolved in some areas of the universe where there is no preponderance of matter to present an annihilation threat. Now, although the scientific community has reached a consensus that this is highly improbable, Professor Hayrbrane Dufflebag, L-SWISH's own cosmological resource, believes otherwise. According to Professor Dufflebag, Maligno is either an antimatter being, as his henchpersons believe him to be, or he is a large, animate, sugarbeet. To quote the Professor, 'I vote for antimatter.'"
Wonder Woman, who looked as if she couldn't care less if Maligno were a squirrel, eyed the debris of the Starbucks run B.H. and I had made, and then at us. Clearly she disapproved of B.H.'s junk food habit. The Harpster smiled nervously. "I'm trying to give it up," she said. There were remains of low-fat cinnamon swirl coffee cake, cranberry muffins, walnut scones and a particularly heavy looking donut scattered across the table.
"Wonder Woman rolled her eyes upward. "Magna est vis consuetudines," she intoned. Then she looked startled and said, "Wait a minute! I'm Greek, not Roman, right? I forget."
"Why is it," Superman interjected, "that every time I attend a meeting with you" ...he glared at Wonder Woman... "I feel as if I've fallen down the rabbit hole?"
"Hold it! HOL DIT!" shouted Captain Marvel. "We're getting way off track. And you guys wonder why we don't get more done! Let's get back to Maligno. Antimatter monster or sugarbeet, we've got to catch his evil ass and put his sinister organization out of business! Obliterate his mob! Burn his crops and sow salt in his fields! Erase all evidence that he ever existed! OK, maybe that's a little bit of hyperbole but you get the idea. We need to get off of our super butts and do something! Now!"
Armed with a new resolve, the super heroes leapt to their feet and rushed for the door. Arriving more or less simultaneously there was a log jam at the exit. Pushing and shoving, kicking and elbowing, the mob struggled to get out. Meanwhile, I turned to the Harpster and said, "Let's slip out the back. I have a feeling that it's up to us to get that rat, Maligno. I have an idea."
[Maddog]
__________________
The B.H. and I took off, going out the back door of the building. Our exit would have been a little more subtle if we hadn't chosen the door marked "Fire Exit Only-Alarm Will Sound." Fortunately for us, the superheroes were so caught up in their need to kick some evil ass that they didn't notice the alarms. The Harpster and I made it out the door, around the corner and to the Harpycar unnoticed. We decided to use this time to regroup so we headed to Chili's for some thinking food, mainly Big Mouth Burgers, fries and Dr. Peppers, fully loaded.
As we sat in the Chili's, I vented a little. "You know, B.H., it really irked me when Wonder Woman (a.k.a. Janet Reno) subtly chided me about my use of the third person. Why does she think she is so perfect? If she were a terrific superhero she wouldn't have to moonlight as a barista. I am new at this superhero thing. It makes me feel important to talk in the third person. I'll get the hang of this soon. I am a superhero that can make holes not one that concerns himself with person or tense." Having said my piece, I munched a few fries and took a swig of Dr. Pepper. I felt much better.
"Clearly the super crowd has ADD issues so it's up to us," I said. "What do we know so far? The L-SWISH Council continually tries to thwart Maligno and his evil henchmen in their efforts to disrupt the world order only to be thwarted themselves. That led the Council to believe that there must be a mole within the organization feeding their plans back to the Lord of Darkness. We also know, courtesy of Professor Marvel (and in all likelihood, the internet), that antimatter does exist. So much for my college class with Dr. Carriker. At any rate, I, too, have access to the internet and have learned that the only way to contain antimatter (we are assuming that Maligno is antimatter composed of charged particles) is by a Penning Trap, a combination of an electric field and a magnetic field. Given this, we can assume the big M's suit is a combination of the two fields and the color red. I am not sure what we can do with this bit of information at the moment, but I do have a thought about the mole in the Council."
The Harpster looked at me in anticipation. She began shoveling in more of her burger. I noticed that when she was anxious she ate. It was her therapy.
I said quietly, "I think the mole has been in plain sight all along. If I am not mistaken, it is Wonder Woman/Janet Reno."
The B.H.'s mouth hung open. "What? That doesn't make any sense. How do you figure she is the mole?"
I took another swig of Dr. Pepper and then replied, "I know Wonder Woman is one of the honored members of the group, but she behaves in curious ways. Why does she refer to herself as Janet Reno? Why on earth is she working as a barista at Starbucks?" While I munched on more of my burger, the B.H. mulled this over.
I continued, "I learned that W.W.'s aging aunt is in need of a lot of medical care. The wages and benefits associated with being a superhero are not enough to cover the expenses. She took on the job as barista to supplement her income and feed her caffeine addiction, but it wasn't enough. I covertly chatted with a few regulars at the Starbucks who wished to remain anonymous. However, "they" intimated that they saw W.W. talking on her cellphone and heard her mention someone named the Big M. It seems that while she may want to fight for truth and justice, Maligno has better wages and a better medical plan."
[Caroline]
_____________
“I have an idea how we can test Wonder Woman to see if she is hiding something,” crowed the Harpster excitedly.
This had me a little concerned. Some of her ideas were a little unique, to say the least.
“What, are you going to hook her up to a lie detector and ask her some questions? Do you have a truth machine in the back of the Harpy mobile somewhere under the Ding Dong wrappers and Dr. Pepper cans?” I teased. Right then I should have known better. Never egg on a woman that was willing to tattoo on a costume instead of wearing one.
“Of course not,” she said. “Those things are too expensive for a superhero’s salary. We are going to slip Wonder Woman a mickey and then use her Lasso of Truth to get to the bottom of what she is up to.”
This spelled trouble but I was fresh out of ideas. At the moment I was distracted by the fact the Harpster ended her sentence with a preposition. The sugar and caffeine must be muddling my grey cells. Tuning back in, I thought, “What the heck, it could work. Right?”
We finished stuffing our faces with burgers and fries and washed it all down with, of course, more Dr. Pepper. Refreshed and ready to go we headed back to the Starbucks of Justice in the Harpy mobile. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Where are we going to get a mickey?”
The Harpster reached into the glove compartment. “I may have left the 60s behind but I always keep a little something just in case. You never know when it might come in handy. Of course, since I haven’t used it since the 60s I am not sure of its potency. Guess we’ll just have to hope for the best!”
As we entered, quietly through the front door, we saw that Wonder Woman was still barista on duty. We sidled up to the coffee bar and started to chat her up.
“How about a round for the three of us?” I said gaily.
“You two really need to kick this habit,” Wonder Woman said a little frostily. I think she was perturbed having been left behind instead of being included with the super boys.
“Sure, we’ll start tomorrow. Come on, why don’t you take a load off and join us?” I encouraged.
“Well, okay,” W.W. said reluctantly. She made our drinks and we all sat at a small table. I had to distract W.W. so the Harpster could slip her the mickey. I pointed to the fancy espresso machine behind W.W. and asked her to tell how it worked. She turned and started to explain. The Harpster seized the moment and slipped the drug right into the little hole at the top of the plastic cover. After a long, tedious explanation on the intricacies of the latest expresso technology, W.W. turned back to the table and took a big swig of her latte.
A few minutes later, Wonder Woman was passed out. We quickly tied her to her chair with her golden lasso. This was easier than I thought! She started to stir. “Are you working for Maligno?” I asked.
“Είναι οικογένεια,” Wonder Woman mumbled.
“What did she say?” I asked the Harpster. B. H. replied, “It’s all Greek to me.”
[Margaret]
_____________________________________
The Harpster reached into her Birkin bag by Hermes, the price of which would have paid for half a dozen more What Not to Wear makeovers, and pulled out a small, hand-held computer. Quickly, she typed in some information. Moments later, she burst out, "Well, rats!"
"What's the matter? I asked."
"Because my computer doesn't have a way to enter Greek characters and I don't know how to convert Greek characters phonetically into their English equivalents, I can't use an on-line Greek dictionary. Of course, I'm not 100% sure I heard Wonder Woman clearly, anyway. I guess we'll just have to press ahead without knowing. Let's just conduct our interrogation and see what we can find out. Start with the softball questions and work up to the important ones."
"Aye, aye, my azure angel." I turned my attention to our captive. "Tell, me, W.W., what's behind your dual personality? I know that you were raised on a Greek island by a matriarchy of godesses. Or were they Amazons? Or both? Where did your Janet Reno alter ego come from?"
She raised her eyes, red rimmed and unfocused from the effects of the Mickey. "I became Janet Reno in order to pass as a mere mortal among the citizens of the United States. It's hard to keep a low profile when one's dressed in red, white and blue tights and a golden tiara. I was living inconspicuously in Florida when President Clinton picked me to be his Attorney General. I may have overdone the disguise with the awkward, androgenous look, the drab business attire and the husky voice. But you've got to admit that no-one tumbled to the real me. I suppose I kept it up too long because now, like a schizophrenic, I have a hard time keeping the two separate."
"Ask her about the Starbucks connection," interrupted the Blue Harpster.
"Mais oui, ma cher, " I replied. Directing my attention back to Ms Reno, aka Wonder Woman, I continued, "Why on earth have you tied yourself into a ho-hum job as a barista when you could be a full-time crime fighter?"
"I tried hiding out in the jungle. Unless one's inclined to eat insects, roots and berries, and questionable-looking fish from a murky river all the time, it's best to have a plan B. Mine was to earn a few geeters with a Starbucks franchise in order to have the wherewithall to buy a few canned goods at the nearest trading post. It worked for awhile, until Ricardo Montalban was marooned by his movie crew and became a regular, and until some young woman found a gold stash that brought a gazillion fortune hunters to the area. That was the pits, so I gave it up. But I had developed a fierce caffein addiction along the way so when I came here, to assuage my habit I hired on just to have access to all the coffee. I drink it all, expresso to latte. I even eat the beans."
"OK, time for the tough questions," B.H. said to me.
"As you wish, my calorie-laden enchantress," I answered. I leveled my gaze on W. W. and in my best good cop impersonation began, "Janet? Or would you prefer that I call you Ms Woman.?" Then I cut to the chase. "Tell me, who is the Big M?" Janet Woman, or Wonder Reno, or whatever she called herself, suddenly sat up, as if I had slapped her. Although she was still disoriented it was easy to see that I had hit a nerve. She appeared to struggle against the forces that compelled her to answer my question, but in the end it was futile.
She opened her mouth and spoke. Her words, still slurred from the effects of the drug, forced themselves through her gritted teeth. "I am Maligno," she said.
[Maddog]
___________________
Suddenly, Wonder Woman rolled her eyes and then slammed her head into the table. The B.H. and I jumped, surprised by this development (not surprised enough, however, for me to start talking in the third person). The two of us tentatively approached her. Neither of us knew anything about checking pulses and gathering other life determining information, but she looked pretty darn dead to my inexperienced eyes. Meaning only to interrogate not terminate, we backed slowly out the door.
I suggested that we contact Superman and inform him of the latest developments and then have a snack. My beloved seconded both notions and proposed a trip to Chik-Fil-A. "I just love those waffle fries," she said, "and you know how food helps me think."
Once she was sure that we had left the building, Wonder Woman raised her head. "Those fools," she thought, smiling to herself. "They are probably off trying to contact the Council now. Little do they know that I am not only not dead, I am not Maligno. If anyone had super translation powers, they would know that I had said Maligno is my brother." Then, as if by magic, W.W. freed herself from her lasso and grabbed her cell phone.
Just before she could flip her phone open to make a call, she heard Gloria Gaynor singing "I Will Survive." Without realizing it, W.W. began to boogie around the interrogation room. She was really getting into it when she heard silence. "Darn it! Another missed call. I like that ringtone so much I forget to answer. I am going to have to change it to something so annoying that I pick it up just so that I am not tortured. Something like 'It's a Small World.' "
Lost in thought, Wonder Woman was startled when the phone began to ring again. She looked at the number and then flipped the phone open. A voice said, "Why didn't you answer?" She replied, "I think I have caught a case of ADD from those superfreaks. Hey, now that would be a good ringtone! 'Superfreak!'" The bodyless voice on the other end of the line interrupted her line of thinking, "Look, little sis, I need you back here ASAP. The heist is set. Once we complete this job, you will have enough money to set Auntie Em up with long term care and continue your Janet Reno charade in some other far corner of the world." She grunted a response, flipped the phone shut and left the building.
[Caroline]
__________________
Now, you may wonder how I knew what Wonder Woman did and said after the Harpster and I left the Starbucks where we had tied her up and interrogated her. Fortunately, it was all caught on tape by a well-placed security camera. If fact, it was a HD tape. The resolution was so good I could also read her lips and determine what she said into her cell phone. I was puzzled about how she had been able to lie to us when she was tied up with her golden lasso. My guess was that its battery was dead. But why, I asked myself, had she told us that she was Maligno? By convincing us that she was Maligno and pretending to croak, she must have intended to persuade us that he was dead so that we would give up the hunt.
The event that led me to check the Starbucks security tape was the lack of a body. After my adipose Aphrodite and I had ingested a few pounds of waffle fries and a quart or so of ketchup we called Superman and informed him of what had happened. His return call a short while later wasn't a pleasant one. He wasn't happy to discover that there was no body in the Starbucks. I think he thought that we were putting him on, and Superman doesn't take jokes gracefully. Needless to say, I was surprised and became determined to learn what had happened. Hence my review of the tape.
Once my partner in crime fighting and I learned what had happened, we put our heads together to come up with a plan. "I like putting my head together with yours," she murmured. "Your breath smells like French fries."
"I think we are going to have to split up for awhile," B.H. went on. "One us should stake out Auntie Em. After all, she seems to be the raison d'etre for Maligno and Reno Woman's criminal enterprise. My guess is that she's at the only retirement and assisted living facility in town, The Pearly Gates Senior Center. In fact, I'll bet I can get hired on teaching knitting, or macrame, or martial arts, or something."
"Good thinking," I responded. "Meanwhile, I'll look for Janet. She won't stray far from her invisible airplane and she'll need somewhere to garage it. If I can find the 'plane, I can find her. Then I can track her back to her brother, Maligno. I'll get busy checking out all the small airfields in the area." I continued, "What do you say that we meet at the Outback Steakhouse this evening at eight to assess out progress and compare notes?"
"Good thinking," the Harpster answered. "But first, let me smell your breath again."
[Maddog]
______________________________
Before I knew it, it was eight o'clock and I was waiting for the Blue Babe outside the Outback Steakhouse. When she arrived, she smiled and breathed in deeply. "You smell positively yummy," she said. I smiled in return and said, "I didn't have much luck today with locating Wonder Woman nor her plane. But I did see a Macy's ad showcasing the latest Calvin Klein aroma for men-French Fry. As I had no other success today I ran right in and picked up the largest bottle they had." My tattooed temptress swooned with delight.
After a few more minutes of idle chatter and sweet nothings, we went in and since we opted for the bar, we were seated immediately. We ordered a blooming onion and a couple of beers, kicked back and took stock of our progress. Since I had already shared my lack of success, the B.H. took the floor. "Well, I went to the Pearly Gates Senior Center and offered to volunteer and they happily accepted my offer," she said proudly. I couldn't really see the Harpster teaching knitting or scrapbooking. "So, what are you going to do there?" I asked. She responded excitedly, "I am going to do tattoos! When I got my outfit tattooed I was fascinated with the process. I have always had a flair for drawing so I took tattoo lessons. I just haven't been able to put those skills to use until now!" I didn't know what to say to that, but thankfully the waitperson arrived with our appetizer and beers. I quickly popped a piece of fried onion in my mouth and smiled.
A little later, while we were enjoying our meal, I saw a news alert flash across the television screen in the bar. I asked the bartender if he would mind turning up the sound. He complied and the B.H. and I focused our attention toward the screen. The reporter on the screen was standing in front of The One and Only Bank. The reporter on the scene said dramatically, "Just moments ago this bank was robbed, it's vault completely emptied by a clever band of thieves led by none other than Wonder Woman. Just before the police arrived the crew boarded Wonder Woman's plane and made their escape."
"Well, crap," said the Harpster rather inelegantly. "The timing on this stinks. I haven't even gotten to order the Thunder From Down Under yet!"
[Caroline]
_____________________
"Don't worry about not getting to order the Thunder from Down Under," I responded. "I tried that. Thunder Down Under isn't the name of some Australian culinary creation. It's the digestive consequence. I once had a Homeric struggle with thunder down under. And not just thunder. Lightning and high winds, too. Thank God for Imodium. Without that life saving pharmaceutical from the friendly people at McNeil Laboratories I might still be holding down the porcelain perch in a little white tile hideaway somewhere. No, I suggest that you try something a little less dramatic next time we're here."
B.H. looked concerned. "Thanks for the heads up," she said. Then she continued, "What do we do now? The Maligno Mob made a clean getaway. Unless someone spotted the gang and their loot zipping along overhead with no visible means of support and propulsion, and comes forward to tell us which direction they were headed, we're done. They could be anywhere!"
After a moment's thought I opined, "I think our best bet is for you to keep a close eye on Auntie Em. Do you think that's Auntie M as in Maligno, by the way? Anyhow, she's tied into this somehow, whether Reno and Maligno's concern for her supposed health care costs is legitimate or not. Perhaps you can persuade her to get a tattoo. While you're etching a tramp stamp onto her backside, take a good look at her. Is she the invalid we suppose her to be? If you can engage her in conversation that could be helpful, too. She might let something slip that will help us, whether she's a part of the criminal enterprise or not."
The Harpster looked misty-eyed. "I had a couple of dear aunties, once," she said. "One we called Auntie Social. She was a bit of a hermit, so as you can imagine she didn't make it big in the super hero business. The other was Auntie Bacterial. She wore Spandex of dazzling white and carried a pressurized tank of bleach on her back. She just sprayed the snot out of just about everything she saw. As you can imagine, people had mixed feelings when they saw her coming. Bleach on doorknobs and counter tops was one thing, but they looked askance at bleach on new designer frocks and Picasso paintings. She finally had to yield to public pressure and retire." She sighed. "But enough reminiscing," she went on. "Back to the task at hand. I'll continue to tattoo the old folks and stay alert for any attempts to contact Auntie Em, or vice versa. Meanwhile, what do you plan to do?"
"I'll back you up. I'll hang out at the What-a-Burger around the corner from the Pearly Gates and wait for your call." I noticed her expression. "And I'll save you some fries. And while I'm at it, I'll practice making holes in things. I really haven't had much of a chance to use my one confirmed super power since I started this gig."
We jumped into the Harpymobile and as we drove away from the Outback Steakhouse my cerulean Circe looked at me and said, "Lightning, I have a hunch something big is going to happen soon."
[Maddog]
_______________________
Sure enough, something big was happening. Just as B.H. and I pulled up in front of the Pearly Gates, we noticed the sky had grown darker and the wind was really starting to pick up. Trees were bending toward the ground and cats and dogs were starting to be swept up by the wind. This was no ordinary windstorm! The sirens were sounding the impending doom of a tornado.
My sapphire sweetie turned to me and said, “My feminine intuition is telling me that we should both wait here. I think that Wonder Woman is going to return here out of concern for her Auntie Em. If she and Auntie Em are as close as we think they are, she is not going to be able to abandon her aunt in this time of need.”
“I think you are right!” I exclaimed. I had just remembered that my research on Wonder Woman also netted the fact that she has a sister named Dorothy. After that business in Kansas a few years ago, surely Wonder Woman would want to return to ensure her aunt was okay.
As we were sitting in the car, it began to rock. I turned to my sweet siren and said, “It sure would be handy to have Superman here so he could blow the tornado away. Where is the fraternity of super brothers when you need them? It’s going to be up to the two of us to capture Wonder Woman and her band of thieves. Any thoughts?”
Just then, the blue bomb kissed me and it rocked my world. Okay, it could have been the gale-force winds rocking the car but I was pretty sure it was the kiss. I was curious at the timing, though, since we were on a mission. “What about Rule number 3?” I asked.
“Well,” she said. “I think we can combine our powers to thwart Maligno’s team. I’m willing to sacrifice myself for the cause if you are. Besides, I can no longer resist your French fry scent.”
As we stared at each other, I could hear the timeless lyrics of the King…
Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can’t help falling in love with you
It was then I knew because our love was pure, not tainted with evil like that between Wonder Woman and Superman, the combination of our superpowers would be for the good of all mankind. We would be able to use our powers to bring down Wonder Woman, Maligno and their evil henchmen and restore peace and justice to our fair land!
I reached for my blue goddess, wrapped her in my embrace and kissed her until we were both breathless. My fingers began to tingle and I felt the heat sear through my body. Suddenly I shot through the roof of the car. Momentarily disoriented, I shook my head to clear the confusion and found myself giddily humming “your love keeps lifting me higher and higher” as I soared into the sky.
Although it took me a couple of minutes, I realized that I was flying! Not only could I fly, I had retained my sizzle power. As I was flying, I wiggled my fingers and managed to zap a couple birds with friendly fire. I was going to have to harness my powers quickly before I got creamed by an invisible plane.
[Margaret]
__________________________
How does one steer when flying through the air? Airplanes have flaps and rudders. Birds have wings and feathers. Bats have wings. I didn't have any of those advantages. I found myself hurtling through space with no way to control my flight. I was headed straight up and already it was getting cold and the air was getting thin. Was there a limit to my ascent? Was my life to end in low orbit around the earth? I tried flapping my arms. Nada. I fluttered my feet up and down. Nope. I bent in the middle to face the ground to see if I could reverse my trajectory. I only found myself flying upside down. I felt something sting me on the arm. And again on the leg. Before I could react something struck me on the head. It hurt. Then I realized that I was being struck by hailstones! I wasn't flying in the sense of traveling voluntarily through the air from point A to point B. I was caught up in the tornado! I was in deep caca.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the wind began to abate and I began to fall. I looked down and could see the Harpster standing next to the Harpymobile. She was looking up. I felt a tug of regret. We had just found each other and here I was, plunging to my death. As the ground rose up to meet me I instinctively began to struggle against my descent. Subconsciously I kicked my legs in a rapid running motion. To my amazement, this action seemed to make a difference. I began to move in the direction I was facing, just as if I had been perambulating on terra firma! I lay on my back and went through my running pantomime and my fall stopped. I began to rise again. Feet down, I faced west and began to move west. I faced east with the same result. I couldn't fly, exactly... but I could walk through the air! Not as speedy as flying, but what the heck, I could get from one place to another by rising above obstacles on the ground and zipping along at the rate of a brisk jog! OK, not Superman but not too shabby, either.
When I stopped walking I began to fall again. So, just before I reached the ground I flopped over onto my back and began a determined walk upward. It worked. My fall stopped inches above the ground and before I could begin to rise again I settled gently to earth. "Lightning!" B.H. cried, throwing herself onto my prone body. "Are you all right? What happened? I was so frightened! Thank goodness you're safe! How did you survive the tornado?" Her words rushed out.
"Thanks to the tornado I've discovered another super power," I responded. "I thought I'd bought the farm, but at just the right moment I found that I can walk through the air. Jog, too. Maybe even run! By the way," I continued, "could you get off of me? It's hard to breathe."
"Oh, sorry," B.H. said, getting up and extending her hand. As she helped me to my feet, she commented, "I hate to tell you, but in the excitement of the storm, I lost track of Auntie Em. There was an emergency evacuation of the Pearly Gates. All the staff and all the residents have flown the coop. There was minimal damage to the building, though, so I would imagine that everyone will be back soon."
I put my head onto my hands and groaned. "And if she doesn't come back? We'd really be out of luck!"
My inamorata smiled. "Not to worry. When I was tattooing a tramp stamp onto Auntie Em's derriere I slipped a tiny tracking device into a, er, personal place. Thanks to that and the GPS in my car we can locate her no matter where she goes. I think she, Maligno and Wonder Woman are almost in our grasp!"
I felt better. Once we found our prey, how could they withstand my abilities to stroll through space and make holes in things, and the Harpster's ability to harangue even the strongest into craven submission? However, had I known at that moment what lay just ahead I would never have been so optimistic.
[Maddog]
_____________________
Naturally, discovering my new superpower required a little processing and, of course, something to eat. When I voiced my thoughts aloud, the B.H. jumped on the idea. She suggested we go back to Chili's. "I think some cheese sticks and margaritas will help. We've been through a lot lately." Sounded good to me so we hopped into the Harpymobile and off we went in search of a cholesterol spike.
Once we were finished eating, we headed back to the car ready to search for the invisible plane. "Well, my sweet, what should we do while we wait for the tracking device to alert us to the presence of Maligno and his crew? Shall we drive around looking for other crimes to thwart? Or maybe I should work on my air walk-run. Perhaps I can learn to do spins and flips, add a little pizzazz to my superpower."
"I think we should makeout like hormone ravaged teenagers," the Harpster said with lust in her voice.
Before I could respond, we heard a loud beeping. The tracking device! We looked at the GPS and stared in disbelief. The system indicated that Wonder Woman's plane was directly above us!
Immediately, my blue bodacious babe slammed on the brakes. I jumped out of the car and started running. Soon I was running through the air. What to do? Suddenly, I remembered my power to sizzle cellphones. Would I be able to use that power to stop the plane? I began running faster in an upward motion. As I neared the plane, I pointed my fingers toward it and ZAP! The plane exploded! That couldn't be good.
The explosion was so powerful that it blew me back away from the plane, away from my tatooed temptress, away from the Harpymobile, back, back...thud! I noticed a green and white light and then I passed out.
When I came to, I felt a little groggy and my face felt funny. I sat up and lifted my hand to my face. It felt like...a waffle? After a little more exploration I realized that I had been lying on a computer keyboard. What the...? Where was I? I wiggled my fingers. Nothing. I looked down and saw that I was wearing regular clothes. I looked up and saw my sprinkle coated latte and my half-eaten chocolate croissant sitting on the table next to my computer. On the computer I saw a blank page and the cursor blinking invitingly.
Starbucks! I was back on the other side of the hole in the Starbucks! Had I just awoken from a dream, living out one of the most cliched story endings ever? No, I hadn't fallen asleep. I remember the cellphone altercation, the splash of espresso and the feeling of being zapped. Suddenly, my fingers started to tingle again. I wiggled them. No bolts of electricity. But they were drawn to my keyboard. Where as before I suffered from writer's block, my fingers now flew with lightning speed over the keys. Before long I knew I had a sensational story that would soon be the newest t.v. pilot for the summer viewing season.
As I sat back and sipped on my latte, I felt a little sad. My only regret about this story is that the Blue Babe was only a figment of my imagination. I discovered I had a thing for corpulent, nutty women with a penchant for body tattoos and spandex. But then the door to the Starbucks opened and in walked a goddess, the blue beauty of my dreams...
[Caroline]
