Letter from a Burned Out Superhero
I am so fucking sick of you guys.
It's not just that you're supervillians and you make my life overly difficult. It used to be that, but now it's not that. Not at all. I'm used to that.
It's how damned boring you all are. Every one of you is entirely predictable and just keeps doing the same thing over and over. Circuit Breaker, you're always trying to get machines to run amok. Professor Kill, you're constantly trying to ferret out my secret identity. And the Rocket Gang...it's like you can't even concieve of an activity that doesn't involve robbing a bank. You rob fucking banks. Do you realize how ineffective robbing a bank is? The money is immediately traceable and the banks are insured. That's why you're caught every time. Because you don't learn.
You want to hear something funny? When I started out on this whole superhero kick I actually was looking forward to having arch-nemeses. What fun would this kind of gig be without sparring partners to constantly match wits and brawn with? I imagined a whole host of people who would test my abilities, my brains, my conviction, to the utmost. I wish I had written some of those imaginings down on paper, I could write a comic book out of them and make a million dollars. I even thought up some interstellar foes. That was some hardcore shit right there. Not only would we find out that we're not alone in the universe, but we'd be threatened by them, with me as the only one able to stand between humanity and annihilation. Stirring stuff. Really golden.
You people, though, I don't know where you came from. Or why. I can tell you all about why I'm a superhero, though. I bet you all are dying to know. Pull up a chair then. Here's my super secret origin:
I don't know where my powers came from. And I've seen the Spider-Man movie like a million times so I know that if I try to use my powers for selfish, financial gain then it will just backfire on me. Also I have no clue how to make money with super strength, flight, and ice powers. Maybe an ice-making company will hire me. I won't go into professional wrestling. Because again, the whole Spider-Man thing, and also wrestling is completely gay.
A guy had to have his fun somehow, though, and this whole flying deal made my commute a breeze, so now that I had time to kill...sure, why not stop some crimes? There's my secret motivation. My dark secret. My Achilles heel or something. I can just see you now, Professor Kill, cackling as you read this letter and rubbing your hands together. You are always rubbing your hands together. It's disturbing.
I mean, I guess I should be grateful to you clowns (especially you, Clown Strike) for giving me something to do and someone dramatic to fight. Otherwise my superhero career would be just as boring as my day job. (I'm not telling you what my day job is, but I bet I've sold at least one of you a used car at some point in the past decade.) I couldn't begin to know why you all do what you do. And to be honest, I don't want to know. You're all so boring the greatest origin story in the world couldn't save you.
I mean...what kind of hidden past could someone like, say, Neo Cleopatra hold? You have a hypno-voice, a loose grasp on ancient history, and scanty clothes. I get it, Cleo, you're sexy and daddy never paid attention to you. Is that all you've got?
Deepest Knight, you look cool but wearing medieval armor just isn't working out with the whole "I'm made of night and am sneaking around" thing you're trying to pull off.
Larva, you are the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. If I were you, I'd kill myself. Let me make you a promise. If you try to jump off a building I will not make an effort to save you.
Sticky Fingers, quit mugging people. You're really bad at it and you're lucky I haven't thrown you into space yet. The only reason you're not in jail is because you're the most ineffective criminal in the city.
Do you see? Do all of you see? This is why I'm writing this letter to all of you. I'm tired of this bullshit. There's not a one of you that's bringing anything new to the table and I'm just tired of playing around. I'm getting to a point in my career here where I'm really trying to get my shit together, and I don't see you arch-nemeses as really advancing this particular aspect of my life.
So this is it. I've given you all plenty of chances to revamp yourselves. I've even given a couple of you advice on how to do it. But either you're just not smart enough or you're not motivated enough. I don't know, maybe it's me, maybe I'm not tempting enough a target. Somehow I doubt that, though.
Effective immediately, I am retiring from the superhero biz. I will no longer hunt you out or stop you from committing a crime. If I see you on the street, I'll just pass by. You won't be seeing me in the skies anymore (except if I'm late for an appointment and the subways are being lame), and here's the best part, I won't be seeing you anymore.
Don't try and find me or I'll just pound you. The fact that I've gotten all your email addresses for this letter should tell you that I can find you if I really need to. Stay out of my hair.
And Pizza Boy, go to college already. You are dumber than a bag of rocks.
It's not just that you're supervillians and you make my life overly difficult. It used to be that, but now it's not that. Not at all. I'm used to that.
It's how damned boring you all are. Every one of you is entirely predictable and just keeps doing the same thing over and over. Circuit Breaker, you're always trying to get machines to run amok. Professor Kill, you're constantly trying to ferret out my secret identity. And the Rocket Gang...it's like you can't even concieve of an activity that doesn't involve robbing a bank. You rob fucking banks. Do you realize how ineffective robbing a bank is? The money is immediately traceable and the banks are insured. That's why you're caught every time. Because you don't learn.
You want to hear something funny? When I started out on this whole superhero kick I actually was looking forward to having arch-nemeses. What fun would this kind of gig be without sparring partners to constantly match wits and brawn with? I imagined a whole host of people who would test my abilities, my brains, my conviction, to the utmost. I wish I had written some of those imaginings down on paper, I could write a comic book out of them and make a million dollars. I even thought up some interstellar foes. That was some hardcore shit right there. Not only would we find out that we're not alone in the universe, but we'd be threatened by them, with me as the only one able to stand between humanity and annihilation. Stirring stuff. Really golden.
You people, though, I don't know where you came from. Or why. I can tell you all about why I'm a superhero, though. I bet you all are dying to know. Pull up a chair then. Here's my super secret origin:
I don't know where my powers came from. And I've seen the Spider-Man movie like a million times so I know that if I try to use my powers for selfish, financial gain then it will just backfire on me. Also I have no clue how to make money with super strength, flight, and ice powers. Maybe an ice-making company will hire me. I won't go into professional wrestling. Because again, the whole Spider-Man thing, and also wrestling is completely gay.
A guy had to have his fun somehow, though, and this whole flying deal made my commute a breeze, so now that I had time to kill...sure, why not stop some crimes? There's my secret motivation. My dark secret. My Achilles heel or something. I can just see you now, Professor Kill, cackling as you read this letter and rubbing your hands together. You are always rubbing your hands together. It's disturbing.
I mean, I guess I should be grateful to you clowns (especially you, Clown Strike) for giving me something to do and someone dramatic to fight. Otherwise my superhero career would be just as boring as my day job. (I'm not telling you what my day job is, but I bet I've sold at least one of you a used car at some point in the past decade.) I couldn't begin to know why you all do what you do. And to be honest, I don't want to know. You're all so boring the greatest origin story in the world couldn't save you.
I mean...what kind of hidden past could someone like, say, Neo Cleopatra hold? You have a hypno-voice, a loose grasp on ancient history, and scanty clothes. I get it, Cleo, you're sexy and daddy never paid attention to you. Is that all you've got?
Deepest Knight, you look cool but wearing medieval armor just isn't working out with the whole "I'm made of night and am sneaking around" thing you're trying to pull off.
Larva, you are the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. If I were you, I'd kill myself. Let me make you a promise. If you try to jump off a building I will not make an effort to save you.
Sticky Fingers, quit mugging people. You're really bad at it and you're lucky I haven't thrown you into space yet. The only reason you're not in jail is because you're the most ineffective criminal in the city.
Do you see? Do all of you see? This is why I'm writing this letter to all of you. I'm tired of this bullshit. There's not a one of you that's bringing anything new to the table and I'm just tired of playing around. I'm getting to a point in my career here where I'm really trying to get my shit together, and I don't see you arch-nemeses as really advancing this particular aspect of my life.
So this is it. I've given you all plenty of chances to revamp yourselves. I've even given a couple of you advice on how to do it. But either you're just not smart enough or you're not motivated enough. I don't know, maybe it's me, maybe I'm not tempting enough a target. Somehow I doubt that, though.
Effective immediately, I am retiring from the superhero biz. I will no longer hunt you out or stop you from committing a crime. If I see you on the street, I'll just pass by. You won't be seeing me in the skies anymore (except if I'm late for an appointment and the subways are being lame), and here's the best part, I won't be seeing you anymore.
Don't try and find me or I'll just pound you. The fact that I've gotten all your email addresses for this letter should tell you that I can find you if I really need to. Stay out of my hair.
And Pizza Boy, go to college already. You are dumber than a bag of rocks.
posted by greenland at 1:01 PM
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