Superhero

What child doesn’t dream of possessing super powers of one kind or another? What child doesn’t fancy herself the brightly-suited victor of her childhood fantasies? What child doesn’t imagine the kind of cookies she could snake from the weak-minded Girl Scouts with the use of the Force?

When I was a kid I had a recurring dream that I could retract my nose into my face. And I could fly. I also drank water straight from forest streams and talked quietly to my reflection in bus windows…not sure where I was going with that. Another post for another day. My point is, I remember well the superhero dream. Perhaps it is because I continued dressing-up as one and making embarassing home movies long after it was socially acceptable. Perhaps it is because I occasionally still wish I could fly over mountains, bringing justice to the downtrodden, protecting the meek, sprinkling the children with sparkly marshmallow cereal. The dream lives on my friends. I give you “If I Were a Superhero”:

My alto-ego would be a bespeckled, cardigan-wearing housewife who taught piano lessons, blogged, and belonged to a neighborhood book club that met monthly… and nobody would ever suspect…

• They would call me “The Owl” because a) I’ve been told I bear an uncanny resemblance to one, which may or may not have been meant as a compliment, and b) I would only be able to work nights due to the demands of motherhood.

• My special powers would include: flight (obviously), sharp, retractable talons with which to scratch out the eyes of my enemies, the Force (because that would be rad), and puking pellets at will. And if the pellets were explosive, all the better.

• My weakness (because all superheroes HAVE to have at least one) would be anxiety and self-doubt. Like I would be engaged in a smack-down with Towtruck Man, puking explosive pellets at him, swiping ferociously with my talons. I would have him in my clutches when all of a sudden he’d say something like, “Are you sure you’ve thought this all the way through? What are your real motivations? How can you be sure you’re doing the right thing?” And that’s when you’d get a close up shot of my wide, glowing eyes filled with anxiety and self-doubt. And then I’d drop him and fly off to do some introspective thinking in my hollow-tree lair.

• My super suit would look very much like David Bowie’s feathery Goblin-King ensemble at the end of Labyrinth. Minus the bulge.

• Andy would be the only living soul that would know my true identity, and although he would sometimes feel torn between pride and jealousy of my incredibly awesome super-powers, he’d undoubtedly support me. I mean come on- free Girl Scout cookies!