Roger licks my palm and it starts to glow neon green.
“That’s pretty weak if that’s all you’ve got,” I say, wiping my hand on the side of my jeans, “Can’t you do anything else besides that? I mean, Captain Zeto’s in there. A little hand coloring isn’t going to get you into the League.”
Roger rolls his tongue in his mouth like he’s swishing around mouthwash and he spits on the street. In seconds, the ground begins to dissolve until there’s a hole in it the size of silver dollar.
“I could make it even bigger,” Roger says, smiling with green bubbles popping in-between his teeth, “but I’m saving the best for when I’m inside.”
“I’ll bet,” I say, wiping my hand on my jeans even harder now.
A red guy wearing overalls in front of us with a flaming horn in the middle of his head scoffs at this, shaking his head.
“Your friend’s right,” he says, his red horn glowing, “Those guys in der don’t want some punk who can spit acid. They ain’t lookin’ for anybody like you.”
“And who the hell are you?” Roger asks, his cheeks bulging like a bullfrog. I put my hand against my friend’s chest and I make him back up. Whoever this unicorn looking fellow is, he sure doesn’t know my friend, Roger. Even though I’ve never seen Roger’s powers before today (His mom has always been adamant that he kept them a secret, partly out of embarrassment, and partly for his own good), I’ve known him long enough to know that he has a short temper, powers or not. If this guy’s not careful, he might end up with half his face burned off.
(Image taken from Corbisimages.com)
“Me? I’m Reggie da Rhino,” he says, “And I’m gettin’ that spot in der.”
“My ass, you are,” Roger says, puffing out his chest, “And what’s your special power supposed to be anyway? Jumping over rainbows? You look like a jerk with that thing.”
“You better take that back, boy,” “Reggie da Rhino” says, pounding his fist into his hand.
“Make me,” Roger says.
“Oh, please,” somebody chimes in behind us (Phew, I didn’t want to have to break that up).
Behind us stands a man with silver hair wearing a cape and a letter J on his chest. His arms are crossed and his chin is up in the air like a Yale graduate.
“Do you honestly think that the League wants hotheads like you in their ranks?” he asks, his eyes glowing white and the air getting cool around us, “They’re looking for experience in there, not two ruffians who would likely get them on the 6:00 News for blowing up an orphanage.”
The line shuffles forward, and we unconsciously shuffle with it. The three super powered beings still stare each other down.
“You don’t look so tough,” Roger says, moving me aside, “Is that all you can do anyway? Change the weather? That’s like Storm in the X-Men, and she’s a girl. You’ve got girl powers.”
“Yeah,” Da Rhino says, slapping Roger on the shoulder like they’re best friends now, “You got girl powers.”
“I will not stoop to your level,” the silver haired man says, shutting his eyes, “Just you wait and see. You’ll be turned out of there faster than the Flash running a mile.”
“Pfft, the Flash sucks,” Roger says, the line moving up again.
“Yeah, Flash sucks,” Rhino says.
“Flash is pretty lame,” I say.
“And you are?” the white haired man asks, his eyes opening up again, “You don’t even look like you have any powers.”
“I, uh,” I stutter, my heart racing.
“He doesn’t,” Roger says, stepping in front of me, “You got a problem with that?”
“Yeah, you got a problem?” Da Rhino says, now my best friend, too, suddenly.
“Hmff, the three of you aren’t worth the trouble,” he says, and he closes his eyes again, the weather turning back to normal.
“You’re up,” a man wearing a referee shirt says to Da Rhino, and he turns around.
“Hey, wish me luck, guys,” he says to us, running into the tent with his horn glowing.
There’s the sound of an explosion inside and a bright light. But seconds later, he walks back out with his head down.
“Biggest mistake dey ever made in their lives,” he says, not looking at either of us. Behind us, we hear the silver haired man chuckle.
“You’re up,” the referee says.
“Can I bring my friend in with me?” Roger asks, “For moral support.”
“As long as you’re not a team,” he says, “The League is only looking for one new member.”
“He doesn’t even have any powers,” Roger says, “He’s normal.”
He looks me over and then points back with his thumb and we both enter the hot tent together. I start sweating immediately.
We walk down a long hallway and find the three of them—Captain Zeto, Ms. Wonderful, and Yellow Blazer—sitting at a long table together.
“What do you have to offer us?” Ms. Wonderful asks, stifling a yawn.
“This!” Roger says, and he shoots a thick blast of green slime across the room, burning a hole in their tent about the size of a trampoline.
“Is that it?” Yellow Blazer asks, shooting a beam at the tent and patching it right back up,
“Next.”
“Next?” Roger shouts, “Next!? But that was incredible! You’ve never seen a hole that big from this far away and you know you haven’t!”
“It was pedestrian street magic at best,” Captain Zeto says, “Next.”
“Come on, Roger, these guys are idiots. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute, we haven’t seen your powers yet,” Ms. Marvel says, pointing at me.
“Who me?” I ask, “Oh, I don’t have any powers.”
All of their eyes light up at once, and they whisper to each other.
“You’re in,” Captain Zeto finally announces, “You’re just what we’re looking for. Someone who won’t show us up. Welcome to the League!”
2 comments:
Hey, I am checking this blog using the phone and this appears to be kind of odd. Thought you'd wish to know. This is a great write-up nevertheless, did not mess that up.
- David
Thanks for reading. I appreciate it!
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