Ramblings of a Cynical Superhero
I'm a superhero, you know. It's not all it's cracked up to be, though. Let me tell you a little about my job.
I mostly save cats from terrifying and deadly heights. Also the occasional supervillain. Well, I don't save the supervillains from terrifying and deadly heights. Or cats from supervillains. I defeat the supervillains, typically by outwitting them at the very last minute, right before they're about to blow half the state of California off the map, or conquer the world. Or eat all the donuts. Supervillains never really caught on to the whole diet craze. They also tend to be either obsessively meticulous or disgustingly slobbish; there's no middle ground. Even the meticulous ones leave such a mess, too. You wouldn't believe the stuff I have to clean up.
The pay's not that great, but I get by. I've been thinking about taking up something related to knives—you know, to fit the whole "Man of Steel" theme—but I've just been so busy lately with these darned cats. Also, I'm thinking about doing some photography on the side. I mean, I can fly. Imagine the pictures I could get! I might establish a new fashion statement for superheroes and never go anywhere without my camera bag slung over my shoulder. Let Spider-Man try that with his web-slinging. I guess I'll have to get one custom made in my colors, though. Black wouldn't really look right against my blue and red costume.
I could go on all day, but I'm sure you don't really care about the worries of an unappreciated superhero. Everybody would rather call Spider-Man—I know his real name, by the way, Batman's too—to handle anything in between cats in trees and giant robots tearing apart skyscrapers. They think I'm overpowered, like it's not a fair fight for me to go up against the muggers and bank robbers. Sure, it's not a fair fight. That's the fun part! I mean, I like cats, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I just want to see the look on a would-be cat burglar's face when his crowbar just bounces off my head and his pathetic little switchblade snaps in two as he tries to stick me in the gut. Or actually get into a situation where a bullet could mushroom against my eyeball. They made that look so cool in the movie they made about me. That actor almost looked kinda like me, too. Sure, they got some facts wrong, but hey, it's Hollywood. For the record, I'm not and never was romantically involved with Lois Lane. I mean, come on, her name's Lois Lane. It just wouldn't work out.
I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I'll try and get a picture next time I save a cat from a tree or, if I'm really lucky, a burning building. (Look, I can do satire.)
