The Superhero Dilemma

“She says she’s Poison Ivy like the comic character. She’s got the green tights and everything.”

“A costume does not make someone a super villain.” I thought that a very grown up response for a twelve-year-old.

“She’s poisoned me, too.”

“What with?”

“Liquorice. You know I’m allergic.”

“Ah, but did she? She might’ve just got lucky.” I was on a roll.

My brother pulled a face like a wet dog and scratched his matted hair.

“No, you’re right,” he said after some thought.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“The usual.”

“I’m Batman,” I said quick as a flash.

“Awh! I hate being Robin.”

“You could be Aquaman,” I suggested.

“I’d rather eat more liquorice!” 

I couldn’t blame him.

33 thoughts on “The Superhero Dilemma

  1. Now that I think of it, my friends and I in MMPRC (Miller-Murphy Private Recreation Club) never played at being super heroes. We were world-famous professional athletes. There was only one caveat: Whatever we did, we had to check in at lunch so our moms could see we were still breathing.

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