After his secret identity, mild mannered janitor Dave Johnson, had spent three days searching the Internet to find a cool name not already taken, Amazing Man tied up a burglar in the living room of a townhouse he’d caught him breaking into.
A young, auburn-haired woman in a purple night gown came down the stairs with a weirdo in a green and navy kilt. The kilt guy said, “Wow, that’s amazing!”
Dave puffed out his chest. “All in a day’s work for Amazing Man.”
The kilt guy’s wife rolled her eyes. “More like Conceited Man, but thanks.”
Okay, ixnay Amazingay Anmay
At home the next night, Dave slammed his fist on the keyboard. No! Justice Man was taken, just as Power Man had been. An Avenger would be cool, perhaps, the Yellow and Green Avenger. No, too unoriginal. Err!
He got up and paced into the kitchen. Why were all the cool names taken?
His eleven-year-old entered, slinging soccer cleats by their tied-together shoe laces.
Dave slapped an arm around James’s shoulders. “Hey, son. If I were a superhero, what would be a good name for me?”
James snorted and shrugged Dave’s arm off. “Try Loser Man.” James walked off.
Dave shouted after his son, “How’s that going to strike fear in the hearts of criminals?” He shook his head and paced back into the living room. Kids.
Derrick entered from the kids’ room. “Okay, Dad, I’m ready to find out what happened with Aquaman and Lex Luthor.”
“Just a second, son,” said Dave. “I’m trying to think up a name for a super hero.”
“What are his powers?”
Dave quickly rattled off his powers.
A thoughtful frown wrinkled Derrick’s forehead. “That sounds like Superman, but with no kryptonite.”
“He’s also not invulnerable.”
“He’s got a lot of powers, what about Powerhouse?”
Dave grabbed his son and hugged him tight. “It’s brilliant!”
Derrick gasped for breath. “Dad, what about Lex Luthor?”
“Oh right.” Dave put his son down.
That night, Dave flew over a city park in a metallic costume with a sterling silver helmet and a jet pack on his back, sort of a cross between the white power ranger and Buzz Lightyear, only he kept his thunderbolt crest and made sure not to copy anything that could get him sued.
Below him, a red Ferrari stopped and teenager carrying a briefcase exited. A limousine entered from the other direction and parked. A man in a navy suit got out. He approached the teen, carrying a second briefcase. “Eddie, do you have the money?”
The teen handed the briefcase over. “Right here, Mr. D.”
Mr. D counted the money in Eddie’s briefcase. He handed over his briefcase. Eddie pulled a bag of marijuana out and sniffed it. “Excellent quality, as always.”
Dave swooped down. “Hold it right there!” In a lightning fast blitz, he knocked Mr. D to the ground and materialized ropes around him. Eddie ran away. Dave flew ahead, grabbed him, and punched him. “This is for dealing kids dope.” He punched Eddie again. “This is for supplying money to drug cartels.” He punched him once more. “And that’s for having a nicer car than me!”
He flew the dealer back to Mr. D. Eddie stared up at Dave. “Who are you?”
Dave placed his hands on his hips and stared heroically into the sky. “They call me Powerhouse. Spread the word.”
Powerhouse raised his arms, visualized pressing the levers on his jet pack, and flew away. “That was so cool!”
New story begins Next Tuesday
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