If I Had Super Powers

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I spent a large part of my young life waiting for my super powers to manifest. I knew I was supposed to have them, and I was more than annoyed it was taking so long for them to appear. I couldn’t fly. I wasn’t unusually strong. A few times a year I would stare at a pencil and will it to roll toward me, just to check if my power might be telekinesis.

It wasn’t.

Somewhere in my mid-20s, I realized the super powers weren’t coming. At that point, I was even too old to be a child prodigy. Once you’re in your mid-20s, anything cool you might accomplish is just something cool you accomplished, not prodigy material. Sure, if I was lucky, maybe someday I’d be in some sort of horrific accident and the government would rebuild me with bionic parts, but it wasn’t looking good. I resembled my parents much too much to actually be an adopted alien with latent super abilities. I hadn’t been all that talented at science, so my exposure to radioactive spiders was almost nil.

It was starting to look like I might be a normal person, like—and this is very difficult for me to say—like everyone else.

Then, one day, I realized the hard truth. I couldn’t be trusted with super powers.

I would have abused the hell out of them.

Superheroes have to keep their powers a secret. I’m pretty sure Batman never had one too many tequila sunrises and started whipping bat-shaped tools out of his utility belt at the bar. For one, he’s waaaay too moody to have a drink as fun as a tequila sunrise. Secondly, Batman understands the superhero secrecy rule. Conversely, pretty much everyone I have ever been drunk with knows, in agonizing detail, my entire life story. At least they know the highlights, and I’m thinking the ability to fly or shoot lasers out of my eyes would qualify as highlights. That girl who was utterly rude to me back in 2002? I totally would have popped out my Wolverine claws and scared the bejeezus out of her. There’s no doubt about it. She shouldn’t make me mad. She wouldn’t like me when I’m mad.

Actually, there are a lot of differences between Batman and myself. For instance, I would never make Robin run around in green Depends diapers. And if I were a millionaire playboy, I’d be pretty happy just being a millionaire playboy and would skip all the skulking about in caves with flying rodents.

But I digress.

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