The Adventures of SuperHeroMan and
SideKickBoy
Chapter 1: SuperHeroMan and The Mad
Scientist
On
the roof of
“There it is SideKickBoy. Our city, the most dangerous and beautiful municipality on the East Coast. Within those highways, byways and triways dwell the most dastardly villains ever to walk the sidewalked earth. And it is up to you and I to stop them. It is our duty to defend the good, the righteous and the nice-smelling of this city from the evils that eat away at their innocence. We shall stick our noses into every nook and cranny of this city to root out the wickedness that spoils and sours the very air we breathe. We shall—”
“Hey! What the hell are you freaks doing up here?”
The two men dodge the security guard and sprint downstairs. “I thought you said you could fly, SuperHeroMan.”
“Well, not literally.”
The next morning mild-mannered playboy millionaire Steven J. Petrarski is reading The Ethnyss City Gazette in the downstairs study of his sprawling three hundred and forty seven room estate, the second largest residential home in the suburbs surrounding the city.
Mr. Petrarski’s butler, Olivier, enters the study with a fax from the CFO of Steve Petrarski’s empire, Petrarski Pharmaceutical.
Steve puts down the Junior Jumble as Olivier clears his throat. “Terribly sorry to bother you sir, but this just came in from your offices.”
Petrarski rolls his eyes and goes back to the Junior Jumble where he’s struggling with the clue T-R-U-O-B-L-E.
Olivier continues. “It seems there’s trouble at the company, sir.”
Steve Petrarski raises an eyebrow and glances up sharply. “Trouble?”
“Yes sir, perhaps you should head into town and take care of it.”
Steve happily finishes the puzzle and hands it to Olivier. “Thanks for the help, butler. Frame this and put it with the others. I’m off to work!”
He briskly exits the estate as Olivier slowly trudges upstairs with a look of clinical depression in his eyes.
At the office, Petrarski Pharmaceutical CFO Will Yuplis Blowmee is wringing his wrists as he stares at the fourth quarter numbers. Luckily his problems have nothing to do with business, sorta.
“How the fuck do the Celtics score two measly points in the fourth quarter?”
He quickly shuts his laptop as his assistant’s assistant Kevin Yessman hurries into the swank expansive office. “Mr. Blowmee, we have a problem.”
CFO Blowmee throws his hands up in frustration. “How could this day get any worse?”
Yessman has his hands behind his back and sweat is dripping down his nose and sinking into the plush Mediterranean carpet. “We have no money.”
Will Y. Blowmee waits for Kevin to finish his sentence. “In what account?”
Kevin cringes for the explosion. “Every account, sir. We have no money left at all. Somebody’s been embezzling hundreds of millions into an offshore account in the Balkans.”
“What are Balkans?”
“I think it’s some kind of sports bar.”
CFO
Blowmee stands up and paces, pulling at his fading hairline. “Well? What are we
gonna do?”
Kevin shrugs. “That’s your
job, sir.”
“Yessman, you’re not a very good yes man.”
“Yes sir.”
Yessman leaves and Will Y. Blowmee stares out his large picture window at the city below, squinting. “Petrarski.”
Steven J. Petrarski squints out his tinted windshield, squinting. “Blowmee.”
Steven
swerves his vintage ’87 Corvette through four lanes of busy
Steven
winks at the head secretary as he steps off the elevator. “Any messages for me
today Mary?”
She nods and reaches under the
desk. “I put them all in this applebox.”
He laughs and passes, patting her on the shoulder. “That’s great.”
She watches him walk by and slides the box back under the desk with the other dozen from that week.
Steve walks through the main offices pointing at people in cubicles on the way and grinning. “What’s up Harry? Sally, lookin’ sharp. How ya doin’ Joe? Get offa that Freecell Jim, haha.”
He heads into the CFO’s office as “Jim” looks at “Joe.” “Didn’t you tell him your name was Mustafa like two days ago?”
In CFO Blowmee’s office, Steve Petrarski plops down in Blowmee’s leather desk chair as he’s still standing at the window. “Is there a reason you called me away from my studies William?”
Blowmee doesn’t even turn around. “Is there a reason you’re embezzling millions from your own company Steven?”
The two men sit/stand in silence until Kevin Yessman awkwardly stands in the doorway. “Sir?”
“Shut the door, Yessman.”
“Yes sir.”
He shuts the door and Steven peers out the window onto the main office floor as Kevin walks back to his desk. “That’s a good yes man.”
Blowmee drops to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He grabs at Steven’s shirt and pants as Steven tries to get up and get away. “Ya gotta help me Steven! I’ve bankrupt the company! There’s nothing left! I gambled it all on sports! Petrarski Pharmaceutical is ruined! What am I gonna do? What are we gonna do? What am I gonna tell my wife? What am I gonna tell my son?”
Steve Petrarski pats Will Blowmee on the head, gets up and moves toward the window. “Don’t worry Will, this wasn’t your fault.”
He
squints out into the
Will Blowmee stares at Steven. “Well, we both know it wasn’t a jilted lover.”
Steven moves toward the door and turns back to the CFO. “I’m heading down to the labs to see what our scientists have been working on.”
Down in the labs Dr. Benson Burner is working feverishly on a new pill to reduce the risk of certain cancers when Steven Petrarski bursts into the room and Dr. Burner nearly drops his beakers.
During the elevator ride downstairs, Steve Petrarski had shed his business suit and underneath he is wearing the tight yellow spandex leggings, tight yellow shirt, far-too-tight red speedo, blue boots and red cape of his heroically-uncomfortable alter ego, SuperHeroMan.
SuperHeroMan swaggers over to the startled Dr. Burner, who adjusts his glasses. “Well, what do we have here? A scientist I presume?”
Dr. Burner nods nervously and looks around the room. “Yes sir.”
SuperHeroMan continues. “A mad scientist perchance?”
Dr. Burner laughs as sweat drips down his brow. “Only when somebody leaves the automated analyzer on. But I’m actually feeling quite pleasant today sir, thank you.”
SuperHeroMan glares at Dr. Burner, “Are you mocking SuperHeroMan?”
“Um, no sir?”
“Very well then, what are you working on here mad scientist?”
He fiddles with the instruments and Dr. Burner shakes his hands helplessly, hoping he doesn’t break anything. “Just some cancer research, nothing you need to worry about sir. It’s all under control. Should be finished this afternoon.”
SuperHeroMan rolls his eyes. “Cancer research, right. Likely story.”
He quickly grabs Dr. Burner by his lab coat collar and slams him up against the lockers on the back wall. “I know your game, mad scientist. And I’m not gonna let you tear down this company. I’ll be watching you…like a hawk.”
SuperHeroMan storms out of the lab and Dr. Burner waves after him, quaking from the odd encounter. “Thanks for visiting Mr. Petrarski, take care.”
SuperHeroMan bursts back into the room, stares peculiarly at Dr. Burner and turns to leave again.
Outside, rushing out of the stairwell in his green short shorts, black spandex shirt, black kneepads, boots, and green cape comes SideKickBoy panting and leaning over trying to catch his breath.
He looks up at SuperHeroMan and whines. “Aw man, did I miss it? Took me forever to get away from the mailroom.”
SuperHeroMan pats SideKickBoy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry young ward, I’m sure this won’t be the last we see of the mad scientist.”
SideKickBoy’s eyes light up. “Oh cool, a mad scientist!”
A janitor turns the corner with mop in hand, sees the two gentlemen in spandex at the end of the hall and spins right back around.
Back at the Petrarski Manor, SuperHeroMan is pacing back and forth across the Persian rug of his rarely-used humongous home office as SideKickBoy’s head swivels to and fro. “The question I keep coming back to loyal protégé, is Why? Why is that mad scientist intent on crushing Petrarski Pharmaceutical? Why not the very fabric of society itself? Why just a pharmaceutical company?”
SideKickBoy
begins to respond when SuperHeroMan stops pacing and interrupts him. “And the
answer I keep coming up with is this. If there are no drugs then people will
get sick and they’ll be unable to get healthy. If people are sick they’ll be
unable to go to work. If nobody works the economy crumbles and
SideKickBoy shrugs. “I dunno boss.”
SuperHeroMan smiles as if it’s all so simple. “Third world countries.”
SideKickBoy snaps his finger and shakes his head, embarrassed. “Oh, duh.”
SuperHeroMan
begins pacing again. “Who is it that came up with the term ‘
SideKickBoy frowns. “But aren’t there other pharmaceutical companies? And vast federal reserves of emergency medicine in case of a catastrophic outbreak?”
SuperHeroMan keeps pacing. “My god. This mad scientist we’ve been dealing with must be developing some sort of killer superflu to take advantage of us after Petrarski Pharmaceutical collapses and the people are at their weakest state. He may be pure evil, but he is a brilliant foe.”
Olivier saunters into the home office and is nonplussed by the garb of the two gentlemen. “You’re wanted back at the office, sir.”
SuperHeroMan storms by the elderly Englishman and SideKickBoy follows close behind. “Can’t talk know butler, we have to get back to the office. To the Supermobile!”
SuperHeroMan
and SideKickBoy are at a gas station a block from
“That’s Ultra Premium Gas, SideKickBoy.”
Back at the Petrarski Pharmaceutical labs, Dr. Benson Burner’s two assistants are clapping as he holds up a beaker filled with a thick dark green liquid. Dr. Burner smiles. “In this vial lies the cure to colorectal cancer. A simple childhood inoculation and the funniest cancer ever can officially be stricken from the records.”
One of the assistants chimes in. “Now the funniest cancer left is ball cancer!”
The other assistant pipes up. “All we have to do now is bring it to Mr. Petrarski and we’ll get that extra funding we’ve been looking for.”
Just
then SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy explode into the room and Dr. Burner points.
“Oh great! Here he is now!” He waves. “Mr. Petrarski! Come see what I’ve done!”
SuperHeroMan approaches Dr.
Burner and tightens his red gloves. “Oh, I see what you’ve done.”
And with that he slaps the cancer-curing vial out of the Doctor’s hand and his assistants gasp as it tumbles in slowmotion through the air and smashes against a floor vent on the opposite side of the room. The liquid drips down the vent into the air duct. The one assistant begins to charge at SuperHeroMan but SideKickBoy holds him back. “Careful there, buster. You don’t know who you’re dealing with here.”
Dr. Burner stares in slackjawed shock at the smashed beaker and slowly turns back to a proudly-grinning SuperHeroMan. “I’m afraid you greatly underestimated me Doctor.”
A
helpless Dr. Burner slumps his shoulders and stares at SuperHeroMan. “Mr.
Petrarski, do you know what you’ve done? You’ve just ruined twelve years of
backbreaking research.”
SuperHeroMan smirks. “And I’d
do it again in a heartbeat. You thought you could bring down this company and
this country singlehandedly? Think again.”
Dr. Burner’s eyes narrow in confusion and he shakes his head, exhausted from the day’s work. “What?”
Just then an elderly man with a cane ambles into the lab with a blissful smile. “Can you cure my cancer now Doctor?”
SuperHeroMan stares suspiciously at the old man. “Who’s this, one of your cronies?”
Dr. Burner responds to the endearing old man. “No Mr. Johnson, we lost the serum. I’m sorry.”
Mr. Johnson’s facial features sink and he looks down at the tiled floor and sheds a single dusty tear. “Ohh. My colon’s going to kill me.”
SuperHeroMan approaches the old man. “Where is this colon of yours? Sounds Spanish. I’ll stop him in his Spaniard tracks. I’ll put a fist right in him.”
Before the confused old man can respond, Dr. Burner elbows by SuperHeroMan and takes Mr. Johnson’s hand. “C’mon Mr. Johnson. We’ll go to my private laboratory and see what we can do.” He turns back to his assistants. “Robert, Jennifer, let’s go. We’re leaving.”
The old man and three scientists leave and one of the assistants whispers to Dr. Burner. “Next time, we should really write the formula down on paper.”
SideKickBoy walks up to stand next to the triumphant SuperHeroMan, staring at them as they leave. “We should’ve eliminated them while we had the chance, sir. They know your true identity, what if they tell your other enemies?”
SuperHeroMan laughs and pats SideKickBoy on the back. “I’m not worried about one mad scientist my young SideKickBoy. He’ll be too busy working on a new killer serum to run around revealing my secret identity. That one old henchman’ll probably be dead in a week. Nope, I wouldn’t worry about the mad scientist. And besides…I’ve got his wallet.”
He throws it onto to the table behind him and it knocks over a flaming bunson burner. SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy share a hearty laugh as the lab table behind them catches fire and begins to steadily burn.
Chapter 2: SuperHeroMan and The Heckler
Willie bows and the audience goes wild.
Back at Petrarski Manor, Steven Petrarski sits in his red speedos on his large Sixth Century Chinese love seat, shuts the television off and glares quietly at the blank screen as another night of shoddy late night entertainment fades into oblivion. He blinks once and then it hits him. “Well hell, I could do that!”
The next day at Petrarski Pharmaceutical, SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy are in Steven Petrarski’s office with the door locked, Steven’s assistant Kevin Yessman is outside knocking to get in.
SuperHeroMan is beaming and SideKickBoy is waiting for him to talk. “Well what’s the big news, boss?”
“I think I’ve finally discovered my superpower.”
“Awesome! What is it? Flight? Telepathy? That power Mel Gibson had in What Women Want?”
SuperHeroMan shakes his head. “Nope. Better. I have supercomedic powers. The power to make anyone laugh anytime, anywhere, anyhow.”
SideKickBoy
is less than enthused. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Huh.”
“Huh?”
SideKickBoy clears his throat and SuperHeroMan stares at him waiting for a response with some semblance of excitement.
“Sounds good.”
SuperHeroMan rises out of his chair, frustrated. “What? Don’t you think I’m funny? I tell jokes all the time, you always laugh. You’re always saying how funny I am!”
SideKickBoy nods reluctantly. “Yeah well, I am your sidekick…and your employee.”
CFO Blowmee is hard at work on some actual work today when Steve Petrarski bursts into his office with a hurried expression.
“Not now Steven, I’ve gotta get this report out by two.”
Steven
checks his watch. “It’s
Will looks up in shock. “Well, we’ll shoot for 2 CST.”
Steven takes Will’s report and throws it to the floor. “This is more important than any report.”
Will throws his hands up in surrender. “What, what, what do you want Steven?”
Steven sits down across from Will, puts his hand over the CFO’s and stares at him with a stern serious expression. “Willie…do you think I’m funny?”
Will Blowmee slowly slips his hand out from under Steven’s, stands up and quietly leaves his office. Steven leans back in Will’s guest chair and glances around the room smiling. “Probably gone to tell everybody about another one of my zany antics.”
Steven walks into the mailroom, pockets some post-it notes and smirks mockingly at Scott Stockton. “Willie thinks I’m funny.”
Scott shrugs and tosses a pamphlet at Steve. “If you’re so confident about your supercomedy, check that out.”
“Open mic night, eh? The Giggle Hut.”
He looks up sincerely. “Well that sounds legitimate.”
That night SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy pull the Supermobile up in front of The Giggle Hut and pop out of the ride in full hero garb. Inside, a prop comic is leaving the heavily-inebriated audience in stitches. SuperHeroMan smiles at SideKickBoy and points to a seat in the back. “Hide back there in case one of our many enemies is in attendance.”
“Don’t we have, like…two enemies?”
“We have…many…enemies.”
SuperHeroMan
takes the stage and grabs the mic as a lackluster smattering of applause greets
him. “Alright alright alright!
SideKickBoy smacks his forehead and sinks down in his seat.
“You suck!” A man in the front laughs and elbows his buddies as they high-five each other.
“Haha, alright! Hey what’s the deal with Chinese restaurants, why does it always stink in there?”
“Nice cape, fag!”
The audience starts to chuckle and a trickle of sweat slips down Steven’s forehead. “Whew! Hot up here. How ‘bout those airports, huh?”
“How ‘bout you suck!”
The heckler is catching an enthusiastic following and SuperHeroMan’s knees begin to buckle. He panics and mutters. “Why black people…always be…frontin’?”
“You’re not funny!”
The room begins to swirl and colors fade into each other as a flopsweating SuperHeroMan staggers to the front of the stage, mumbles “Knock knock” and then faints facefirst into the front row table.
The heckler chimes in one more time. “Well actually, the Chinese restaurant joke was pretty funny.”
Hours later a drowsy SuperHeroMan wakes up lying in a booth in the back, spaghetti sauce caked into his hair. He squints around to find SideKickBoy sitting next to him. “Did I kill?”
SideKickBoy shakes his head. “No, everybody escaped alive. The woman in front hurt herself when the table you landed on crashed into her knee, though.”
“So I wasn’t funny?”
“The
results are still pending.”
“That damned Heckler stole my
spotlight.”
SideKickBoy grins. “Yeah, and then I stole his wallet!”
SuperHeroMan’s eyes widen as he props himself up on his elbow and thumbs through the wallet. He turns to SideKickBoy and pats him on the back. “We go home, rest and then first thing tomorrow morning we’re going to pay Mr. Jameson a little visit. Now carry me to the Supermobile.”
The next morning Lionel Jameson is tying his sneakers, about to go out and take a jog when there’s a knock at the door. He opens it to find two smiling men in spandex and then he’s knocked out cold. He wakes up minutes later to find himself in his own basement tied to a straight-back chair. He hears a voice from behind him sneer. “So we meet again, Heckler.”
The voice and the costumes from earlier immediately click and Lionel Jameson realizes who’s detained him. “Oh my god, you’re that hack from the comedy club last night! What the hell do you want?”
“Giggle Hut, actually. And what I want is an apology, Heckler.”
“You should apologize for that act last night!”
SideKickBoy comes flying out of nowhere and puts a fist in Lionel’s face. “You think this is a game?”
Lionel looks closely at SideKickBoy and points a finger at him. “Did you take my wallet?”
SideKickBoy replies with the same intensity. “Yeah! Sorry!”
Lionel rolls his eyes. “Alright jeez, I’m sorry I’m sorry. Can you untie me now?”
SuperHeroMan stands proudly, fists on his hips, looking down at Lionel Jameson. “You’ve heckled for the last time, Heckler. I despise you as a human being but I admire your humble apology.”
Lionel rubs his raw wrists and grins at SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy as they head back upstairs. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’ll never be funny. I’m sorry that you dress like that. And I’m sorry that you suck at life.”
The two heroes stop in their tracks at the bottom of the stairs and they slowly turn back to a smirking Lionel Jameson. SideKickBoy glances at SuperHeroMan who squints and nods. “Let’s fuck his shit up.”
As the sun rises to high noon, the suburbs ring out with the piercing screams of the Heckler. The Giggle Hut is safe…for now.
Chapter 3: SuperHeroMan and The Pyro
An exhausted and sweaty SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy collapse into a couch in the basement lounge of Petrarski Manor after a busy night of beatings, pummelings and cans of whoop-ass being voraciously opened.
“Man, what a night. My fist hurts. You got some good shots in too, SideKickBoy. I can’t believe how many bad guys there were tonight!”
SideKickBoy is laughing. “I know! It was awesome. I actually kept a running tally.”
He fumbles around in his short shorts before pulling out a green steno pad. “Let’s see, we got two vampires, five zombies, three werewolves, a ninja and an Elmo.”
SuperHeroMan shakes his head as his eyes narrow. “I never trusted Elmo for a second.”
SideKickBoy nods. “They were all so small, too!”
SuperHeroMan turns to SideKickBoy. “I noticed that also.”
SuperHeroMan towels off his forehead with a washcloth and flips on the bigscreen TV to watch the news report on another band of dastardly villains vanquished by the forces of good.
On the Channel 4 News, a somber Chip Whitley is delivering a breaking news report. “…and it appears the assailants, also costumed, are still at large. Once again, if you’re just tuning in, eleven small children and a midget were brutally attacked by two assailants while trick-or-treating tonight. The eleven children are in critical condition, the midget is dead. This, by far, has been the worst Halloween in recorded history.”
Anchor Chip Whitley’s booming voice fades away as SuperHeroMan turns down the volume and the two heroes silently stare at the screen and the sobbing parents.
SuperHeroMan
clears his throat and meekly whispers to SideKickBoy. “Next time we’ll check
the calendar before we schedule another ass-beating night.”
SideKickBoy nods and SuperHeroMan
turns the volume up again as Chip Whitley changes subjects. “In other news, an
uptown warehouse is in flames right now, the third building to be ignited
tonight.”
The anchor chuckles. “Probably just the work of some Halloween tricksters.”
SuperHeroMan shuts off the big screen and drops the remote. “I do believe we have a pyromaniac on our hands SideKickBoy.”
He heads for the door and SideKickBoy reluctantly follows muttering under his breath. “I just hope it’s not a preteen pyromaniac.”
Soon after, the Supermobile pulls to a stop in front of the burning warehouse where volunteer firemen are fighting desperately to quell the flames. Police Chief Warren Hardass groans as SuperHeroMan swaggers toward him with loyal SideKickBoy in tow. “What seems to be the trouble Chief?”
Chief Hardass responds. “We got a fire…SuperHeroMan.”
SuperHeroMan grins. “You’ve got a pyromaniac, Chief Hardass.”
“Nope, just a grease fire fellas. Thanks for stopping by.”
SuperHeroMan shrugs. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree I s’pose; ‘til we bring that pyro in. Then won’t your face be red!”
Chief Hardass begins to lose his temper. “My face is gonna get red right now if you boys don’t get outta here!”
SideKickBoy chimes in from behind SuperHeroMan. “Your face already is kinda red, sir.”
Chief Hardass snaps. “Would you just get outta here?!”
The two men scurry back to the Supermobile and regroup to brainstorm. “Okay, culprits. Who’s capable of such maddening evils? Who stands to profit from fire?”
SideKickBoy shrugs. “Firemen?”
SuperHeroMan snaps his fingers. “Exactly! Now let’s look around, which one of these firemen looks guilty?”
“You think it’s one of these firemen?”
“They always return to the scene of the crime.”
“Oh yeah. How ‘bout that one over there? He’s just smoking a cigarette.”
SuperHeroMan pats SideKickBoy on the back. “Too lazy to clean up his own mess. I think we’ve got him SideKickBoy. Good work.”
SuperHeroMan casually strolls up to the smoking fireman who eyes the spandexed CEO suspiciously. “What the hell is this?”
SuperHeroMan looks around. “What?”
The fireman squints at SuperHeroMan. “What do you want weirdo?”
SuperHeroMan leans in close and whispers in his ear. “I know what you did, fireman.”
The fireman butts out his cigarette under his boot. “What’s that, caped crusader?”
SuperHeroMan sticks a finger in the fireman’s face. “You started this fire and I’m gonna bring you down if it’s the last thing I do, fireman.”
“Hey fuck you, cape boy!”
The fireman stalks off and SideKickBoy walks up. SuperHeroMan looks at him expectantly. “Well? Did you nab his wallet or what?”
SideKickBoy shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see an opening. But he did have his name on his firejacket. J. Smith.”
SuperHeroMan
nods. “Get a phonebook. How many J. Smiths could there possibly be in
There
are three hundred and three J. Smiths in
Jumex Smith steps out of the garage and puffs a frustrated cloud of smoke in the heroes’ direction. “Jesus! You guys again? Nice mustaches.”
SuperHeroMan throws his mustache to the ground in disgust and hurls a finger in Jumex’s face. “You’re the pyromaniac! Admit it! Admit ittttt!”
Jumex Smith holds his hands up. “Whoa buddy. The Chief told you last night, it was a grease fire. Relax. I’m a fireman, why would I start a fire?”
SideKickBoy, still with his mustache on, throws his arms up and rolls his eyes like it’s obvious. “For the money!”
“What money? This is a volunteer department! The only person that would have profited would be the warehouse owner.”
SuperHeroMan and SideKickBoy slowly turn toward each other and SideKickBoy’s mustache falls off.
That night, the two men drag a shirtless, pantsless Jim Bonerberg out of his home and throw him down on the front lawn. Bonerberg looks up at the spandexed duo and thinks he’s still dreaming, or nightmaring.
SuperHeroMan shouts down at the frightened warehouse owner. “We know you’re the pyromaniac, Bonerberg. You’re coming downtown with us!”
“Please! I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t kill me!”
“We just want a confession, Bonerberg!”
“Alright
already!”
SuperHeroMan smiles and
motions to SideKickBoy. “Good. This’ll be good. Get the taperecorder ready.”
Jim Bonerberg becomes somber and a single tear runs down his cheek. “I’m the Mailman Killer. I have the bodies of a dozen mailmen buried in the backyard.”
The two heroes stare at the prone, weeping Bonerberg until SuperHeroMan breaks the silence. “Wait, so you’re not the pyromaniac?”
Bonerberg wipes away some tears and shakes his head. “No, it was a grease fire.”
SuperHeroMan grabs the tape recorder out of SideKickBoy’s hand and throws it to the sidewalk where it shatters. “Dammit!”
The two heroes get back in the Supermobile and speed off as a stunned Jim Bonerberg gets up and shuffles back into his home.
SideKickBoy holds a hand to SuperHeroMan’s chest and he stomps on the brake. “Wait a minute SuperHeroMan!”
“What what?”
“That guy’s name was Bonerberg!”
“Oh my god! I said it like a dozen times and I didn’t even think about it!”
“Bonerberg!”
The two heroes laugh into the night as the Supermobile rolls up the hill to Petrarski Manor.
Chapter 4: SuperHeroMan and Ultraman
Vinny Ugly, a crusty-faced low-level Ethnyss City mobster cackles into the dark night as he sprints away from a savagely beaten old woman, with her changepurse in hand. He turns a corner and SuperHeroMan gets out of his Supermobile with a smirk. “You’re mine, bucko.”
He takes a step towards the mobster when something soars above his head from behind him and lands on Vinny’s heels like a crack of lightning. In fact it is a crack of lightning. It’s Ultraman. (Ultra-mannnn!) In a blue steel-polymer full body suit and golden cape he races after Vinny Ugly when the gangster disappears into a chemical warehouse.
“Aw, fuck that shit!” SuperHeroMan races after Ultraman, steps in the doorway of the warehouse and stops to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He spots Ultraman chasing Vinny across a catwalk and races up a ladder to cut them off. He reaches the catwalk just as Vinny turns the corner and the gangster, startled by yet another hero hot on his trail, stumbles back a few steps. SuperHeroMan impatiently shoves Vinny out of the way as he storms towards Ultraman and the gangster freefalls a hundred feet before landing in a vat of neon blue bubbling liquid. Vinny Ugly screams in agony as SuperHeroMan gets in Ultraman’s face. “That was my perp, you twat!”
Ultraman stares down at the vat. “Quickly, we can still save him!”
Ultraman jumps and floats down to the floor below and SuperHeroMan stares down angrily at him. “What? Get back here!”
He struggles back down the ladder as Ultraman pulls a smoking husk that was once Vinny Ugly from the vat. Police sirens ring from outside the warehouse and SuperHeroMan jumps in fright. “I’m not done with you Ultraman!”
He races out the back door and Ultraman stares at him as cops appear on the scene.
The next day at Petrarski Pharmaceutical, CEO Steven Petrarski is sitting at his desk talking to mailroom boy Scott Stockton.
“I’m really sorry about last night, boss. I’m still alittle under the weather. So you really met Ultraman? So cool. What’s he like.”
Steven scowls. “He’s a jerk. I was all over that perp and then he swoops in and steals my thunder.”
“Lightning.”
“What?”
“They say he’s like a crack of lightning.”
Steven rests his head on a fist. “More like a crack of…ass. He’s not all that, Scott.”
“Well, at least he can fly.”
Steven stands up. “I’ll fly! You want me to fly? I’ll fly right now!”
“OK.”
Steven hesitates. “Well, I just gotta…stretch first.”
In the sixth floor emergency ward, Dr. Joe Jensen is unwrapping the bandages from Vinny Ugly’s head. “Now, I’m afraid the vat of acid did extensive damage to your face Mr. Ugly. You may not be able to recognize yourself.”
He removes the last bandage; the nurse next to Dr. Jensen’s eyes light up and she winks at Vinny Ugly.
“Gimme a mirror, Doctor.”
Vinny looks at his reflection and gasps. What was once crusty, lumpy and scabby is now chiseled, smooth and perfect in complexion and bone structure. The nurse slips Vinny her phone number and leaves as Vinny screams at Dr. Jensen. “You butchered me! You monster, you butchered me! I’m hideous!”
He leaps out of the hospital bed and sprints down the hallway as Dr. Jensen looks past him and shrugs. “All I did was put bandages on his face.”
Weeks later a handsome, sexy, debonair Vinny Ugly storms into Steven Petrarski’s office and slams a fist down on his desk. Steven glances up and looks understandably surprised. “Oh, hello there.”
“You’re the one. You’re the one that did this to me!”
“Oh crap, are you Sarah’s boyfriend?”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“My secretary, dummy. I swear, she had those lumps before I banged her.”
“My face! You did this to my face, SuperHeroMan!”
Steven
quickly gets up and shuts his office door. “Easy with the SuperHeroMan stuff,
“I’m Vinny Ugly.”
Steven Petrarski stares at the beautiful man blankly and blinks as Vinny waits for a response.
“The
guy you pushed in a vat of acid?”
Steven blinks again. “You’re
gonna have to be more specific.”
“The guy you pushed in a vat of acid as I was running away from Ultraman.”
“Oh, Ultraman. I’m over him. How did you find out my secret identity, incidentally?”
“Ultraman told me after I recovered.”
Steven grimaces and balls a fist angrily muttering under his breath “Ultraman!”
“I used to be a grizzled city gangster. But now look at me! I’m beautiful!”
Steven Petrarski looks puzzled. “Yeah, that…sucks.”
“I can’t do gritty mob stuff anymore. My smile is frozen this way. The only work I can get now is in aftershave commercials.”
“Aftershave commercials?”
“Yeah, you know, the ones where the guy splashes the water on his face in slow motion and looks refreshed?”
“Oh shit, you’re the Gillette guy! So does that Mach 5 hurt or what? Seems like a dangerous number of blades.”
“I
just want my old life back. I wanna be Vinny Ugly again.”
“Yeah, who wouldn’t want
that?”
“You know what they call me now? Pretty Vinny.”
“The bastards.”
Scott Stockton enters the office, stops short and smiles at Pretty Vinny. “Oh. Hello there.”
“Who’s this, your son?”
“No,
he’s my…mailroom boy. Vinny, Scott. Scott, Vinny.”
“Look Petrarski, I just want
my life back. You owe me that. and if you can’t give me that, I’ll take
something from you that’s just as important.”
“You’ll take my ugliness?”
Pretty Vinny storms out of Steve’s office and slams the door behind him. Once alone, Steven and Scott look at each other, eyes bugged mouths agape, and Scott begins jumping up and down shaking his wrists. Steven gets up from behind his desk and puts his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “You know what that was Scott?”
“I
think so!”
“That was our first sworn
enemy!”
“Yeah and he’s cute too!”
Steven takes his hands off Scott’s shoulders. “Um…alright.”
Chapter
5: SuperHeroMan and The Killer Priest
Steven Petrarski comes into the office with his new assistant Kevin Yessman following closely behind, giving the oblivious CEO a rundown of the latest news on Petrarski Pharmaceutical. They pass mailroom boy Scott Stockton and Scott and Steven solemnly nod to each other as they pass. “Jim” and “Joe” look at each other and giggle. “Is there something goin’ on with those two?”
Kevin Yessman continues his diatribe. “And so Dr. Benson Burner quit and brought all his research with him. I think Bobby Billionaire’s trying to hire him.”
Steven shakes his head. “Bobby Billionaire. That sonuvabitch.”
Kevin nods as Steven takes a seat behind the desk of his spacious seldom-used office (used less than his home office). “Anyway, sir. We need to think up some new ideas for research in the laboratories. Dr. Burner took everything we needed.”
Steven strokes his chin and stares off into space, nodding. “Yes, he was a wily one. Completely mad of course, but wily nevertheless.”
He snaps out of it and looks up at his assistant. “Thank you Kevin, that’s all for now. CFO Blowmee and I will take it from here.”
Kevin leaves and Steven is finally able to scratch his taint in peace.
Later that afternoon Steven Petrarski wanders into Will Yuplis Blowmee’s office where Will is hard at work on his laptop.
“Hey William.”
Steven fiddles with some things on William’s desk and the CFO looks up grinning. “This online poker is so easy. Watch this, I’m about to double our company’s budget for the next five months on this one hand.”
Steven nods, uninterested, and glances at a box of hair coloring on Will’s desk. “Say, is that Just For Men?”
Will beams. “Sure is. And it’s so simple to use. It fades the gray away!”
“Yeah,
I can tell! You look fantastic!”
“I know!”
“Wow!”
The two men smile at each other for a few more minutes before Will shuts his laptop, gets up and puts on his sportcoat. “Alright I gotta go pick up my son from choir practice over at St. Dog’s Cathedral.”
Steven shakes his head. “No no no. Please, don’t leave. I can go get him. You stay here and keep working on whatever it was you were working on. What were you working on again? The budget?”
CFO Blowmee looks down at his laptop and licks his lips. “Yeah, okay. Good idea. I’ll see ya in a bit.”
Steven Petrarski leaves the office then comes back a few minutes later with a finger in the air. “One more thing. Your son’s the fat one right?”
Steven J. Petrarski pulls up in front of St. Dog’s Cathedral as it’s letting out. Priests, nuns and choirboys go scampering off politely in every direction. Steven enters the tall gothic double doors and heads into the main room, a dark dank sanctuary where no light escapes. In front of the looming pulpit and a crying Christ crucifix with Jesus screaming in agony, kinda like Robert Plant hitting the high note on “Stairway to Heaven,” a priest has a hand on little Timmy Blowmee’s shoulder and he’s talking quietly to the young boy until a suspicious Steve Petrarski approaches the couple. Steve puts on a smile and the priest rises and holds out a hand to greet him.
“Mr.
Petrarski. What a joyous pleasure. I didn’t expect to see you in my Modest
church.”
Steve smiles. “Well I’m a very
unpredictable man. And this church isn’t very modest at all. It’s really rather
roomy, Priest.”
The priest smiles and wrinkles form in the corners of his eyes. “No my dear boy. Modest is a family name. Forgive me, my name is Malcolm Modest, ArchDeacon Malcolm Modest.”
Steven
snaps his fingers and points at the Reverend. “Yeah I remember you. You were on
the TV. You and the Mayor shut down the Porn Emporium on
The ArchDeacon’s eyebrows raise and Steven nervously tries to cover up his slip with a sloppy sign of the cross and some sort of weird Japanese bow with his hands pressed together.
ArchDeacon Modest moves on. “Yes well, I was just telling young Timmy here that I would like to promote him to lead soprano in our boys’ choir.”
Steven looks surprised and gives a thumbs up to a smiling Timmy. “Wow, that’s great!”
His eyebrows drop and he looks back to the ArchDeacon. “Is that all you were talking about?”
The ArchDeacon looks confused. “Um, yes.”
Steven nods slowly and takes Timmy’s hand. “Alright, that’s how you wanna play it? I’ll be seeing you again Deacon.”
ArchDeacon Modest grins. “Yes, I hope so Steven. I’ll be delivering a mass on the sin of vanity this Sunday. You’re welcome to attend.”
“No, I brush my hair on Sundays. Can we do Monday?”
“No, it’s a mass.”
Steven turns to leave and points Timmy to the ’87 ‘Vette parked in a fire lane out front with a ticket under the wiper. “It’s a mass alright.”
Back
at
SideKickBoy nods. “Deacon Jones was a football player though.”
SuperHeroMan smells his dill pickle, makes a face, throws it in the trash and SideKickBoy whines. “I would’ve eaten that!”
SuperHeroMan
crumples up his sandwich wrapper. “Save your strength SideKickBoy, I’m afraid
we may have to pay this ArchDeacon Modest a personal visit. I think he could be
one of those pita piles.”
“Pedophiles?”
“Pet
a what?”
“Pervert.”
SuperHeroMan looks insulted and quickly comes up with a snappy retort. “You are!”
“Nevermind. You’re really getting that bad a vibe from this Modest character? That’s a pretty bold accusation to be making. He seems like such a kind soul.”
“Exactly.”
SideKickBoy looks confused, shrugs and hookshots his wrapper into the garbage.
Moments later, SuperHeroMan is swerving the Supermobile through traffic towards the St Dog Cathedral with SideKickBoy in tow. He wraps his knuckles white-tight around the door handle as SuperHeroMan spins a one-eighty through three rows of oncoming traffic into a perfect parallel parking maneuver right in front of the monolithic church.
The two heavily-spandexed gentlemen march in and present themselves to an attractive young nun who gasps and turns away in a puritan manner. SuperHeroMan juts his red speedo towards her with balled fists on his hips. “Point us in the direction of a Mr. Malcolm Modest, dear lady. We have some affairs to settle with the ArchDeacon.”
The nun is still averting her eyes. “Do you have a…confession to make?”
SideKickBoy adjusts his green short shorts that are beginning to bunch up in the front. “No confessions, just accusations.”
“I’m
afraid the ArchDeacon is feeling ill today.”
“Very well.” SuperHeroMan
shoves the nun out of the way, SideKickBoy apologizes as she runs out of the
church and the heroes move towards the front of the gallery and the pulpit.
SuperHeroMan stands at the pulpit and looks out over the empty pews.
SideKickBoy hugs himself. “This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
SuperHeroMan smiles. “It’s not so bad. I could get used to this whole priestly thing, lording over all these people. Makin’ ‘em do things.”
He leans forward opening a hatch behind him as the crucifix lifts toward the ceiling and a stone spiral staircase is revealed leading down below the main room. SuperHeroMan doesn’t immediately notice the hatch behind him and is worried he’s broken the pulpit. “Oh jeez, what did I do?”
“SuperHeroMan,
look!”
SuperHeroMan turns around,
stares at the hole and looks back at SideKickBoy. “Where did the Led Zeppelin
statue go? That was the only thing I liked about this place. It was kickass.”
The two men descend the long staircase and they come out in a huge underground cavern, one end lit up with torches and a red platform. A single cloaked figure is standing at the platform with his back turned. “Is that you Sister Bertrice?”
SideKickBoy looks at SuperHeroMan, clears his throat and replies in a high pitched voice. “Um, yes?”
SuperHeroMan elbows SideKickBoy and they approach the figure who turns around, drops his cloak, and drops his grin when he sees the men standing before him. “Mr.…Petrarski?”
SuperHeroMan
takes a step forward and stands tall and proud before Mr. Modest. “No it is
not, but I’m flattered ArchDeacon. I am SuperHeroMan and I’m here to save the
children of
Malcolm Modest sighs. “Oh dear, so you know then.”
“‘Fraid so Priest. You’ve got one of two choices. Go quietly or die at the hands of my fearless sidekick.”
SideKickBoy’s eyes widen. “What? I’m not killing a priest.”
The ArchDeacon lowers his head and waves a hand at SideKickBoy. “There’s no need. I’ll go quietly. But I must know, how did you find out about my…ill deeds?”
SuperHeroMan chuckles. “You know, it was really just a hunch. I was readin’ the front page by mistake one morning ‘cause there was an illustration and I thought it was the comics. You sickos were all over that paper, so lo and behold here we are.”
The ArchDeacon sighs again. “Well I suppose I had a good run. It was bound to catch up to me sooner or later.”
SuperHeroMan shakes his head and frowns at ArchDeacon Modest, as he leads the Deacon to the stairway. “How could you do it Malcolm? Having sex with the poor children. It’s deplorable!”
ArchDeacon Modest stops walking towards the spiral staircase and turns back towards the two men. “Sex? Who said anything about sex? Oh no no no. Heavens no! No, I eat the children.”
SuperHeroMan is unfazed. “We don’t need to get into semantics about specific acts, Pastor.”
ArchDeacon Modest chuckles and stops walking altogether. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Petrarski. You see, I eat the children. Their flesh, their bones, their most vital organs. I eat all the children of the city who have sinned. I’m a Sineater.”
Both heroes are speechless. SideKickBoy attempts to say something then shuts his mouth again. He elbows SuperHeroMan who opens his mouth and can only muster a meek “Gross.”
Modest continues. “Seeing as how you were about to bring me in on an offense I’m innocent of and since you have no proof of the offense I just confessed to, I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying, you’re leaving. Good day gentlemen.”
SideKickBoy finally finds his voice. “But you just confessed that you’re a cannibal.”
SuperHeroMan
nods angrily. “Yeah, we’ll tell!”
ArchDeacon Modest cackles.
“Who’s going to believe a man in a cape?”
SuperHeroMan puffs out his chest. “Oh yeah? Well who’s gonna believe a…priest. Dammit.”
Modest
laughs again and waves as he pulls his cloak up over his head. “Good day
gentlemen. And God bless.”
The two heroes quickly scurry
upstairs and out the front door wasting no time in getting back in the
Supermobile, garnished with a fresh ticket. They take off down
And the saga continues…