|I can't remember . . .
||[Aug. 1st, 2015|06:59 pm]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
. . . if it was me and Brett Lusty or me and David Buffington. Maybe all three. We invented a superhero we called Solar Poopy. His super power was that he could fly by lighting his farts on fire (which you really can do---light your farts, that is, not fly). He worked sort of like Popeye; when an emergency arose, he would pop a can of beans off of his utility belt, wrench it open, chug the whole can, squat down, use one of those flint-on-steel welding torch sparkers to light a nearly-unending stream of highly flammable noxious gas and then fly to the rescue. Also on his utility belt were hypodermic syringes preloaded with specially formulated biological agents that would do things like turn his farts opaque to temporarily blind the bad guys. Or turn his farts truly deadly, not just metaphorically deadly, to wipe out the bad guys (he also had a gas mask on his utility belt, you see). Depending on what the situation called for, he would grab one ot these hypos off of his belt and jab himself in the thigh with it like a diabetic to fine tune his super powers.
This was in sixth grade. I think we all have a better handle on the physics of flight and the biology of farts by now. At least I would hope so, but . . .
I have never quit inventing super heros. Like Frank Zappa's Studebaker Hawk, Fantastic New Superhero of the Current Economic Slump, my superheros are generally the products of an era of reduced expectations. For example:
Ponce Medallion. Clad in a sparkly sleeveless jump suit with floodwater bells, platform shoes and, of course, a huge meaningless gold medallion situated over the plunging V-neck of his jumper specially designed to show off his $400 chest toupee. His permed mullet and muttonchops lend him a level of street cred completely lost to the Western World since Mack Davis. Ponce's super power is barging in. He barges in, interrupting everyone and making them forget what they were going to say, which keeps anything from ever happening, including bad things.
Bobomattenai (like -matinée, only with an "I” sound at the end, OK?). Bobomattenai is a Bigfoot hunter extraordinaire. He never fails to find Bigfoot when he goes “Bigfootin'.” He is irrevocably steeped in the paranormality of it all. If Ghost Busters can't help, call Bobomattenai!