Written by Inhopeless

Sunday, 6 March 2011


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To clarify, my mother is not dead. My homeworld is Earth, not Gop. I was never dumped in a vat of radioactive waste, nor was I biten by a special being.

I am normal. Ish. Of course, my powers started manifesting, innocently.

Yet again, today, after being beaten up by losers for my intelligence, I found an old drawer in the street. In there was a phone.

My HTC Desire HD phone. What it was doing there, I have no idea. It vibrated. It bleeped. I then uttered, to myself, the one phrase no-one ever should say.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I shrugged.

I answered the phone. I didn't have time to look at the message, let alone put it back in my pocket. Pain - no, agony - shot down my arm. Holy shit! I thought. This is the end. You may think, 'no it isn't' because I'm writing this. Well, just shut up.

My head felt like the M6 on a Friday afternoon. I put a finger to my head. The world turned different shades of colours.

My hands, they were bright red. The losers who beat me up were running into the distance. Their shoes were dark blue, yet they were invisible. I couldn't see the phone because it nearly took out my cone cells.

I took out a piece of paper from my pocket. It was a rudimenatary awesometer I drew in morning registration.

darker the shades of green and blue the lower the rating)

BLINDING WHITE - Pure awesome
RED - Major awesome
ORANGE - Awesome
YELLOW - Fairly Awesome
Black - WTF?!
Invisible - Not even registered

No way, I thought. What's next? I can actually talk to girls? That would be cool.

The bullies saw me. I think. I'm not sure, because I saw blue shoes coming towards me. Let's hope I have the power to fight like a ninja.

Just then, neurons in my head connected. I saw images - most of them from Rambo, Jackie Chan movies, Bruce Willis - and then, my feet and my hands just went full out. I didn't know what happened, but six 80kg guys were lying fifteen metres away, unconcious. I have powers. If only there were some heroic music to play... whatthefuck... Scenes from 2001: A Space Oddesy played before my eyes, before disapearing. Music swelled in my head, and Also Sprach Zarathustra (the theme to 2001) played.

I saved my own skin. From six well formed bullies. I put a finger to my head. I saw the colours return to the normal drab shades of grey. I picked up my phone.

"MASTERCHEV". That's all it said. I managed to Google his name. According to Google Maps, he was on the Avenue of the Americas in Manhattan.

I picked up another piece of paper next to my phone. My scibbly handwriting said "Knowledge Osmosis. Awesometer." It appeared my wildest dream had come true.

I went to a costume store nearby, and bought a red suit with V-T on it.

Vigilanteen was going to hijack a plane, and find this Masterchev.

As Masterchev lied in a cardboard box, his BlackBerry replicated the message for another person.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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