I do too have a Nemesis

I guess I should clarify some stuff since we had an honest to goodness super villain ask for a nemesis. I have an arch foe, a nemesis, someone to battle on a regular basis. But I think to really understand who and what the foe means to me, I must give you some background as to who I am and how I have become what I am today.

My origins are deep and troubling. Now, not quite as deep and troubling as seeing your parents gunned down for a pearl necklace in an alley after watching a crappy Zorro movie as was Bat-Man, but deep and troubling nonetheless. I was 10 and me, mom, dad, and my stupid brother Tim were on vacation at Mt Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota. While on the tour, some guy ran into my dad and stole my mother’s purse. This jerk also picked my dad’s pocket prior to snagging mom’s purse. I remember both mom and dad screaming, “Hey, that guy just robbed us!” Then Tim tripped me, because he was a brat. Anyway… the park Rangers for the National Park service were of no use. They tried chasing down the robber, but he got away. Mom and Dad were really upset. This was 17 years ago, prior to the big explosion of ATM cards, but after travelers checks were in vogue, so this guy got a pretty good haul.

I remember one of the tour guides apologizing to mom and dad, “Well, as tour guides we aren’t allowed to carry any weapons. All I had was this flash light, and no criminal will stop just because someone is carrying a flashlight.” That echoed in my head for some reason, “flashlight… flashlight… flashlight… flashlight… flashlight… flashlight…”

Turns out it was Tim just echoing whatever the tour guide said, because later when that very tour guide gave us free hats, he said, “Sorry about you wallet and purse, have some free hats.” And Tim kept repeating hats. He really was a brat.

Anyway… fast forward 13 years. I am a 23 year old college drop out working returns at the local Home Depot, when something that changed my life forever happened. Some low life thug ran in the exit door and snagged the locked cash drawer out of the hands of Cindy, our Point of Sale Customer Representative, before she could open up her POS machine. As I said, I was working returns and someone had just returned a 4 – D Cell Mag Lite. It is not the heftiest of the Mags, but is no light weight either. I used the Mag to trip the guy and said, “You ain’t stealin’ that, Biotch, Boo yah!” He got up and punched me in the face, but he left the cash drawer.

I had a broken nose and a new calling. I was going to fight crime, and I was going to do it with flashlights to prove that tour guide wrong. So for the last 4 years I have been slowly acquiring Mag Lites with my employee discount and climbing the Xtend & Climb Telescoping Ladder Type 1A of retail management at that very same Home Depot. I am now in charge of the lumber area.

Anyway… 2 years ago we started getting a rash of thefts at my Home Depot. Until I decided to stay late one night and apprehend the perp with my flashlights. Around 1 am, September 23, 2004 I heard the door to the store open, even though it had been locked. I crept out of the concealing shadows and spotted my orange clad adversary. I popped one of the 6 Cell spotlights on him and watched as he froze in terror at being apprehended by me. He simply said, “Ah, Mag Lite, is it? I assumed we would meet some day.”

“Yes, I am Mag Lite. I shine light on the darkness, in my right hand I hold Justice and in my left…”
“Oh, shut it!”
“Did you just interrupt me?”
“Yes, of course I did, you were prattling on about Truth, Justice, and the American way or some such crap. Listen, I am the Home Despot, and I have targeted this retail establishment to be the beach head of my campaign against commercial monopalism. You see, my flashlight wielding foe, I steal from the mega retailers and give to the brick and mortar hardware stores.”
“Why the Hell do you do that?”
“I was getting to that, now stop interrupting.”
“But, you interrupted me first.”
“Oh, shut up, will you? I am educating you about my diabolicalism.”
“Fine, fine, just so you know I will whallup you good with one of my Mag Lites.”
“Anyway… before you rudely interrupted, I will bring down the very basis of commercial capitalism by removing the home improvement monopolies one at a time. This Home Depot will fall and then I will go after the Lowe’s down the street, all the while bolstering Freda and Max’s Hardward Plus on 14^th Street downtown.”
“Umm… why don’t you go after Wal-Mart? They are the equivalent to a monopolistic devil?”
“Too big.”
“Can I hit you with my flashlight now?”
“You can try…”

With that he was off with a bound and running through the plumbing section grabbing fittings and stuffing them in them in his pockets. All the while he was laughing maniacally. When he was in the middle of the aisle, I threw one of my 2-D cell Mags at him and hit him in the leg. He spun around and showered the floor with ball bearings that he had clearly stolen previously. I launched another flashlight at him, but he blocked it deftly with a toilet lid. I moved forward to hit him on the head with one of my bigger flashlights and slipped on the ball bearings. I bet Bat-Man wouldn’t have slipped, but Bat-Man wasn’t there, I was. He flipped me off, and limped out of the store while I continued to try and not slip and fall on all the ball bearings. It is too bad he did not do this in cleaning supplies, I would have made short work of these slippery frictionless bearings if I could reach a broom.

The paging system came to life with his disembodied voice saying, “Farewell Mag Lite. We will meet again. Clean up in Plumbing.”

We have met many times since then. So, Professor Exasperate, while your offer is kind, I already have a nemesis. His name is The Home Despot.

Mission: Improbable

So, an important part of a superhero's mythos is the way he or she is alerted to trouble. Superman uses his super ears to hear cries for help. Batman has the bat phone; Spiderman has spider sense. I, myself, prefer SMS or Instant Messaging.

Just last night, I was on a message board discussing whether it was misogynistic or just trite of George Lucas to have Padme die of a broken heart (and over a guy named Ani, no less). I was about to post something brilliant when my IM window popped up. Trouble! There was a break-in in progress at the First Citizens Bank. I closed my browser, zipped up my boots, and was on my way in less time than it takes to type "OMW".

I used the time it took to drive over there wisely. Using my Bluetooth connection (hands-free is a must for the superheroine on the go), I called Stewart. Stewart went to high school with my brother. He's really brilliant at Google searching, so he can get me the information I need almost instantly. He's also 38 and lives with his parents, so he's almost constantly available.

"Heey, Stewart. Did you see the new "Superman" movie trailer? The CGI looks hot, huh?"

"Yeah, Fannish. "

"So, Stewart, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, Fannish. Heh."

And so on. Not much of a conversationalist, is Stewart. Anyway, I had him look up information about recent bank robberies and anything he could find out about the First Citizens Bank. He did well- we determined that there had been three recent bank robberies in the area, all with the same pattern- 2 or 3 guys smashing in a side window. Pictures of First Citizens Banks showed that it, too, had a side window. Fantastic.

I arrived on the scene and saw two guys in black running away from the bank building toward a parked car. A third guy was in the car- lights out, but the engine was idling. I made my move. Sprinting toward the car, I knocked furiously on the driver-side window. Bending low enough to unleash my full powers (sigh), I said innocently, "Excuse me, sir...is this Ceti Alpha Five or Ceti Alpha Six? I'm looking for Khan...."

Enthralled, the guy started rolling down his window, while his two partners in crime scrambled to get into the car. By the time they got his attention, three police cars were rolling into the alley.

With a wink at one of the cops (that's Doug, who dreams about his Everquest girlfriend, even though she's probably played by a dude), I headed back home. My job was done.

The hardest part about being a superhero

Being a superhero has a certain magnificence that had always seemed unattainable for someone like me. Sure, I knew the difference between right and wrong - that is the easy part. The hard part is discovering your special talent. Some people spend their entire lives trying to figure it out and never experience the joy of stopping a single criminal act. There is a nursing home down the block from my office that is filled with dreams of being a superhero. Dreams like that leave you the same time you leave life and never a moment sooner. When I first decided to be a superhero or at least start walking along that path, the realization that I had no special abilities or any particularly outstanding physical attributes was difficult to accept. My wife was very supportive and encouraged me, saying it probably takes some people longer to figure out their superhero identity and for me not to pressure myself too much. Each moment that passed without me knowing my talent was a victory for evil everywhere.

The big players -Superman, Aquaman, Wonder Woman- they're the blue bloods in this business and it is really unfortunate because they don't understand how hard it is for the regular guy to become a hero. They were born with their unique abilities, and they never flaunt it. They never try to relate to us or understand our position, while we stand around in awe of them. Sure, we know they're great, stopping the supervillains from destroying the world once or twice a week. But, they don't realize how much we contribute by fighting the smaller crimes to allow them to concentrate on the really bad guys. To be honest, Superman is a kind of a jerk. He sent me a tailoring bill for destroying his cape once. I framed it.

I attempted a few personas. I briefly appeared as The Hypnotizing Guy - but it took too long to hypnotize the criminal and usually they weren't concentrating hard enough on the watch and finding a watch that I felt commanded respect was not cheap. I got beat up pretty bad four times amd got the watches stolen too. My next attempt was as the Marble Man. I would throw a bunch of marbles at my foes to incapcitate them. Unfortunately, I never could figure out how to reach them and I kept falling down and knocking myself out. Sudden movements tend to make me faint. Other, less successful incarnations were the Human Car Tire, Johnny Flashlight (Mag Lite didn't appreciate that), The Foghorn, Glitterer. None of these were me.

A couple of summers ago, I'm watching He-Man with my oldest kid, Harry. I watch Adam lift his sword up and all that electricity surge into him and be transformed from a simple, high-voiced prince to a muscular, baritoned hero. I stood up slowly afterwards without speaking and left the room with finishing the episode. That episode of He-Man was speaking to me. For years, I had been searching for my identity and now I knew. I was Adam. I was going to be He-Man. Sort of. Unfortunately, the closest thing I had to a sword was a set of golf clubs and I didn't know any witches. I had never been so depressed. So, I went to driving range to hit some golf balls. That is my thinking spot.

It was a dark and stormy afternoon, but I didn't notice, too consumed with my thoughts. No one else was on the range. Standing alone and feeling entirely incapable, I pointed my three iron toward the sky and shut my eyes, imagining myself as Adam receiving the powers from Castle Grayskull. It felt so real.

I woke up in a white room with my wife and kids around me. Dazed and aching all over, the doctor proceeded to tell me it was a miracle that I survived. I had been simultaneously struck by three separate bolts of lightning while standing with the golf club raised in the air according to the operator of the driving range. Deep down, I knew the miracle wasn't to have lived but to have been reborn as a superhero.

FYI: for the Ladies

Just thought y'all should know.

Gratitude

Okay, here is how it started. I was doing my normal rounds in the city when I heard her scream for help. Nice powerful and clear request for help. So I did one of my patented super-leaps and landed next to her burning car on the freeway. I ripped off the car door with my super strength and got her out of the car to safety. Oh. My. God. She was freakin’ HAWT! I mean, wowzers, she was Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. No, I really mean it. She was a real looker. She was safe now. Safe with me, if you know what I mean, but she kept babbling about something and pointing back to her burning car.

It’s okay, Ms. It is Ms., right, and not MRS.? You are fine now. Everything is safe. So, umm… come around here often?

Good Lord! You knuckle dragging Neanderthal! My brother is STILL IN THE CAR! You Idiot!

But, it is your brother, right? Not a boyfriend or husband or anything?

SAVE MY BROTHER, YOU TIGHTS WEARING FREAK!

Sure, sure, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I'll get your brother from the burning car, whatever.

So I get this chick's bro from the car and was expecting her to be all grateful, but she cops a major attitude with me.

Thanks for getting my brother out, you pig!

Whoe, little lady, what’s with the major league ‘tude?

My “’tude?!?!” MY “’TUDE?!?!?!” YOU POMPOUS SPANDEX WEARING JERK! YOU LEFT MY BROTHER IN A BURNING CAR WHILE YOU TRIED HITTING ON ME!

I didn’t know your brother was in the car

YOU HAD TO REACH OVER HIM TO GET TO ME!

Well, you were the one asking for help. He was just sitting there with a dumb look on his face, he could have gotten out on his own

He was unconscious, you flipping moron! And did you have to “help” me out of my car by grabbing my butt and fondling my breasts? Good lord, you are a pig.

I’m Captain Amazing! Not some pig

Whatever, just go away

Don’t I get a thank you kiss?

GET OUT OF HERE YOU PIG!

Some gratitude. There was this other time when I saved a hot art student from a purse snatcher. She asked me if I wanted “Go back to her studio so she could sketch me.” I was thinking all right, kinky, baby. Turns out she just wanted to sketch me.
I was hoping for some play, but all I got was this drawing of me. I do look good though.

Geek goddess

So, this whole "superhero" gig is such a boy's club. I mean, honestly- the biggest female name in the trade is Wonder Woman, and her theme song is about her satin tights. Ugh.

It's not all bad, though. I mean, once I figured out my target demographic, I was really able to hone my skills. You see, I speak geek. Sci fi, comic books, video games, D&D, anime...not to mention my crazy Star Trek knowledge. I have a level 60 Dwarven Priest with an epic mount and my full set of epic gear hanging out in Ironforge. I can have a full conversation comparing the relative merits of the original Cylons versus the humanoid versions. I enjoy dressing up for conventions.

Do you understand the power I have? I have access to some of the most brilliant minds on the planet with a smile and a few "Lord of the Rings" quotes. A flash of my tricorder, and I have an army of geeks to do my bidding. You know, as long as my bidding doesn't include anything too athletic or requiring of social skills...

OK, fine. I admit it. My main "superpower" is that I have breasts. Nice ones, really- and with some weight training and pilates, my personal trainer says I should be able to fit into my Princess Leia bikini in no time. What? Trust me, honey, it's better than that Jane Grey mind power crap if you want to bend about half of the population to your will.


Live long and prosper,
Princess Fannish