Okay let me get one thing straight. Not all superheroes wear golden-star embellished capes, bear amazing, mind blowing abilities and work against injustice. Most of us are just like you guys, work, eat, sleep repeat. We will gladly see the latest Netflix serial and would love to have a delightful meal surrounded by family. We’re not from extra-terrestrial planets, nor do we have arch-rivals in the form of stark-crazy clowns.
Yes, I do have superpowers, superspeed and control over fire. Unfortunately, ‘cool’ is not the term the media would define me. Last night they branded me with titles like “vindictive, vicious, a beast who tries to kill everyone in sight”. I just accidentally burned down two McDonalds; they didn’t give me the right milkshake. Corresponding to my superior pace, my body requires more energy. I have to pay a horrendous total of $1000 for my weekly groceries because I’m hungry all the time. Don’t even get started with me when Ramadhan pulls around, it’s pure torture and grief.
Trying to save others from their grief and demise is like attempting to tame a lion. People don’t listen.
“Sir I was trying to help you”.
“No you dirt-bag. You were trying to kill me”.
“Sir… That car would have run over you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t give me that villain-talk. I can tell by the look of your eyes; you saw me as your next piece of pray.”
That is literally every conversation that follows if I try to utilize my powers to help other guys. Superman and my friend “The Flash” got it so easy. Everyone views them as their idol, their role-model their everything. All I want is to be famous and lease some benefit from my superpowers. Guess stardom and being cool isn’t for me.
Froebelian Writers 