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.d""b. impulse reality press no. 193
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$ $ "Super Heros, Inc."
$ $ written by BMC
$ $ released 5/27/02
[-- $ $ ------ ------------------------------------------------------ --]
Student by day, writer by night: the tale of a super hero.
But first let me tell you about the super hero. Once, in my city, there
was a restaurant called super heroes incorporated. When you went in you
would see what appeared to be any small-town-looking caf�, but there were
glass cases with action figures of super heroes on all of the walls. And
what's more, these figures were on sale as though they were great works of
art by some local talent or other. It was quite sad. I think the saddest
thing about it all was that it was a restaurant called super heroes
incorporated, it had an obsessive comic book theme, and there was not a
single comic book to be found in the restaurant. Now I am a fan of comic
books, and I would have been in the mood to read one that day, but no such
thing was to be found within the building's walls. Not a single thing
like it. Just somewhat of an empty promise.
Now that is an underdescription of what this place looked like. In the
middle of the room there were a bunch of three foot square tables with two
chairs at each of them, and these were all wobbly and I know this because
the table I sat at was wobbly, both chairs were wobbly, and, when I looked
over to the next table, it wobbled just from the weight of my gaze. But
I'm getting ahead of myself, because I'd just opened the door for my
friend; you see, we hadn't even entered the building yet.
So we entered. It is important for me to note at this point that this
place was completely empty except for this scraggly looking guy, late
20's, appeared to have no ambition, wore dirty clothes, didn't look like
he'd slept or showered in days or like he had any intention to in the next
few. This was the owner of super heroes incorporated. He addressed the
woman he stood with as a "mom," so I ascertained that this was his mother,
and by their interaction I guessed that she was co-signer on his business
loan.
As my friend and I walked into the cafe, we noticed (or should I say, we
believed) that they were the only other people there. We wandered around
and looked at all of the useless trinkets and statues and trading cards.
Now you'll notice that I never told you how I discovered that this
lethargic and bizarre young gentleman was in fact the owner of super
heroes incorporated. It was when he assaulted us with his greeting,
offering business cards to the both of us.
"Where are the super-heroes?" we asked him, trying to make him believe
that we thought the caf� was a real collective of super heroes in
corporation with each other. I'm not sure if he understood that we were
joking. We didn't say very much to him, as he made us nervous and we
seemed to invoke fear in him as well. He pointed to a lunch counter where
my friend and I proceeded to walk.
When we got to the counter, a third person magically appeared from the
back room. It was a middle-aged man with a few days of stubble and
moisture of sweat that turned his forehead into a reflective surface.
"What do you want?" he asked. It was like my first time in a drug
dealer's place. It was awkward and none of us were certain about how
smoothly this transaction would come off. But here was the question. He
wanted to know why we were here.
"We want food," I replied. "We're hungry." He looked at me, thick black
moustache and eyebrows forming hard lines across his face, refusing to
yield to me, uncompromising. What was in his mind?
"All we got's subs. Hero sandwiches."
'haw haw', thought I.
"They're right up on the menu up there on the sign." And sure enough,
there was a sign above his head with a list of a dozen or so sub
sandwiches on it. It looked something like this:
Wonder Woman 4.25
Batman 4.25
Green Lantern 4.50
Robin 4.50
Superman 4.75
The Joker 4.75
Aquaman 5.00
So great. There's a list of subs and you can't tell what any of them are,
because it's just a stupid list of stupid names and no stupid hint to what
each is made of.
"Umm, what's an Aquaman? Tuna or something?"
"No," said the mean guy, "The Aquy-man is roast beef and cheese."
There was silence.
I started to hyperventilate, but cut it short - regaining my composure
with finesse.
The names of the super heroes did not seem to match up with the types of
sandwich in any way. Now my friend was starting to panic. I continued to
play it cool.
"Ok, then, we'll have two Green Lanterns."
"Two Green Lanterns it is. You want butter?"
Fuckin yeah! Of course I want butter on my Green Lantern. My friend
looked at me in anger for ordering for him without his consultation or
approval, but I nodded knowingly as though I knew exactly what was going
on. I think he bought it.
"Yes sir, butter would be fine."
At this point my friend took me aside again; I thought I was going to get
berated for ordering butter when I was fully aware that my friend was
vegan, but I knew things would work out just fine. (Noteworthy is that,
although I am currently vegetarian, I was not at that time and I likewise
did not care for or respect the practices of those who were opposed to
feasting upon the flesh and blood of animals) -
My friend interrupted this digression of thought and pointed out that the
person preparing our food was wearing bandaids on more than one of his
fingers and that one of them appeared to be soaked through with fresh
blood. I urged my friend not to worry, but wondered who my words were
truly intended to pacify - him or myself!
"Ok, two Green Lantern, that'll be 15 bucks."
"Hey wait, but the sign says they're only four-fifty each!"
"Yeah. The sign's wrong. We just ain't changed it yet."
After taking a moment to focus myself on the task of not passing out,
wetting my pants, or turning tail and running for my life (leaving my
friend to fend for himself), I bit the bullet and paid.
"Ok, can we get a couple of drinks too?"
"Yeah here you go. So that's twenny bucks all together."
Motherfucker. I hated him, but I doled out the hard earned cash, the last
pennies from my tattered velcro wallet with the old Winnipeg Jets logo on
it.
We sat down and ate, my friend and I, as fast as we could. We ate so fast
that we never found out what was in the sandwiches. We wanted to get out
of there as quickly as possible, and we didn't care what diseases the
sandwich was tainted with. Well we never got sick, and we managed to get
the hell out of there in one piece, so I guess we did something right. On
the way out, we were confronted by the owner again, who encouraged us both
to come back many times, and shook our hands in a sign of friendship and
business partnership.
After vigourously wiping our hands clean in a thatch of tall grass, my
friend and I began working on a plan to exact revenge on the entrepreneurs
of the apocalypse. First of all, their sandwich names were all registered
trademarks of DC comics. Secondly, the trademark of the word "super hero"
is co-owned by DC and Marvel comics, so the very name of the caf� was in
direct violation of these copyrights.
So we began our letter writing campaign. First draft, second draft,
revision after revision, day after day. I was once told that the real
writing is in the rewriting, and I took that shit to heart. A week later
we had a working copy of a letter to send to DC and Marvel, urging them to
file a class action suit against super heroes incorporated, shut them down
forever, drive them into financial bankruptcy, and make it impossible for
them to get another business license or any kind of loan again. They
wouldn't even be able to get a Bay card after we were done with them. We
even had the ingenuity to falsify some third-hand information, claiming
that we personally heard the owner and staff of super heroes incorporated
badmouthing the comic book industry and ridiculing the plots and
illustrations of the magazines, and even going so far as to mock certain
comic book characters on an individual basis. If this didn't capture the
attention of the comic book companies, nothing could - not even a pat on
the bum from the human torch.
We were set - this company was going to fall at our hands. There was just
one thing left to do. Go back there and take extensive photographs of the
building and the awning that proudly bore the super heroes incorporated
banner. We drove down 22nd street, 15 blocks or so, and there it was.
The building, that is. To our surprise, the store wasn't there anymore.
It was just an empty spot where the empty spot had been only months, maybe
weeks, earlier, before the short life of super heroes, inc.
What happened to the store? Did someone beat us to it? Did the comic
book henchmen come down in the middle of the night and purge every trace
of super heroes incorporated's existence? Did they receive a tip-off? Or
did their own people see it? Or maybe... maybe... were the comic books
watching us all along, anticipating every move?
Or did they just go out of business due to having no customers? And if
so, were we the only customers to ever show up there? Or was the menu
just to difficult to understand? Or was it their terrible food and
atmosphere along with the chef's strong-arm techniques of extorting money
from the patrons?
Or... what if they never existed? What if my friend and I imagined it?
Or what if my friend was never there and it was all up in my head? Come
to think of it, that could explain why I don't have the business card. Or
why I never got to take the picture. Or why I can't remember the name of
the alleged friend that I went to the restaurant with.
But I can say one thing for certain. No wait, maybe I can't.
But I learned something anyway. Or at least I think I did. Or at least I
think somebody did.
-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-
SEE PHOTO SUPPLEMENT!
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the clever thing to do here would be to put some sort of copyright. no.
http://www.phonelosers.net/ir
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