Showing posts with label hero's journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hero's journey. Show all posts

Thursday, September 2, 2021

Story 406: If You Could Choose Any Superpower…

 Friend 1: …WHAT WOULD IT BE?

Friend 2: HUH?!

Friend 1: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME THE FIRST TIME – YOU’RE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME!

Friend 2: WELL, WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN EARSPLITTING CONCERT AND YOUR QUESTION IS CLEARLY OFF-TOPIC, SO IT’S JUST TAKING ME A LITTLE WHILE TO CATCH UP!

Friend 1: FINE, I’LL WAIT TILL INTERMISSION!

INTERMISSION

Friend 1: SO, IF YOU COULD –

Friend 2: You don’t have to bellow now; the noise level’s reduced slightly.

Friend 1: Sorry, my ears are still ringing a bit.

Friend 2: You know, that may actually be a sign of hearing lo-

Friend 1: SO, what I scream-asked earlier was: If you could choose any superpower, what would it be?

Friend 2: …Whyyyyyy?????

Friend 1: I was thinking I wanted to enhance our concert-going experience since we’re in the next-to-last row on the ceiling, and I can’t decide which would be best: super-vision?  Super-hearing?  Invisibility?

Friend 2: That last one would certainly help if everyone else had it: we finally could see the stage at least.

Friend 1: Yeah, but then they’d get up to all sorts of mischief without any accountability whatsoever.

Friend 2: Oh yeah.  Ew.  Never mind.

Friend 1: Teleportation?  Front row seats.

Friend 2: Heh, that one’d also shave time off my daily commute.  We can keep this power after the concert, right?

Friend 1: Oh yes, it’s yours for life, but only the one.

Friend 2: (Thinks for a few moments) I’d probably choose telekinesis.

Friend 1: Really?  Not telepathy?

Friend 2: Gosh no – do you really want to know what everyone’s thinking, all the time?  It’d be no end of revulsion.

Friend 1: Good point.  So telekinesis then?

Friend 2: Oh yeah: zero-effort opening doors, changing TV channels, getting stuff out of the fridge, moving weirdos outta my way, the works.

Friend 1: Oh.  (Thinks on this) Oooohhhh….

Friend 2: Yeah, I figured that’d appeal to your innate laziness.

Friend 1: Hey!  I’m not lazy!

Friend 2: Course you are.  And with telekinesis, you’d barely have to move a muscle ever again, if you really wanted.  A sloth’s paradise.

Friend 1: I like sloths.  They take the time to appreciate life.

(The band re-emerges on the stage and the audience stands and screams their approval)

 Friend 2: (Also standing) `K-THEY’RE-BACK-DON’T-SPEAK-FOR-ANOTHER-TWO-HOURS-WOOOOOO!!!!!!

Friend 1: (Stands slowly, stares inwardly, and whispers to self) And no one would ever mess with me again.

Friend 2: WHAT?

Friend 1: I SAID “WOOOOOO!!!!!!”

 THE NEXT DAY

(Friend 1 wakes up, sits on the edge of the bed, and stares thoughtfully at a pair of slippers on the floor)

Friend 1: (Whispers to them) Move.  (The slippers wobble, then fly onto Friend 1’s feet) Whoa.  (Looks around) Must still be asleep.

(After getting dressed and going to the kitchen, Friend 1 stares at the refrigerator before holding a hand out to the handle without touching it.  The door opens suddenly so the handle goes into Friend 1’s hand)

Friend 1: (Staring at the open refrigerator with wide eyes) Just hungry?

(At the supermarket, Friend 1 pushes a shopping cart up and down the aisles; surreptitiously looking around to make sure no one is nearby, Friend 1 lets go of the cart but keeps hands hovering over the handle so that it still moves forward, then grips the handle again tightly)

Friend 1: (Whispers) Momentum.

(In Produce, Friend 1 stands in front of the apple section and unobtrusively floats several of them in the air to check for bruises; as a fellow shopper comes nearer, Friend 1 hurriedly grabs a few apples and shoves them into a bag before rushing the cart away)

Friend 1: (To Shopper) What, I didn’t see that, you’re imagining things!

Shopper: (Without looking up from the dragon fruit) Don’t talk to me.

(On the way home, Friend 1 giddily and literally drives hands-free)

Friend 1: Look, Ma!  No hands!  (Sees a traffic light turn from yellow to red) Oh shoot.  (Grabs the wheel and slams the brake)

(On a walk through town, Friend 1 hover-bounces a basketball along the sidewalk until seeing a construction site where an excavator is being used to create a huge hole)

Friend 1: (Drops the ball and addresses the construction workers) Never fear, good people!  Your deliverance is at hand!  (Raises arms to lift a lot more dirt out of the ground and dump it on the growing pile near the excavator.  The construction workers all stare in shock at the dirt, then at Friend 1) No need to thank me!

Supervisor: We won’t – the hole’s way too big now, you freak!

Friend 1: No need for name-calling, honest citizen!  I’ll just put some of it back – (Raises arms and some of the dirt pile simultaneously)

Construction Workers: (Hold their arms out in front of them) Whoa-whoa-stop!

Supervisor: You’re making more of a mess, and you’ll put us all out of a job!  Just – beat it!

Friend 1: (Lowers arms and dirt, then sighs) The inevitable public backlash.  I should retire from my superheroic endeavors while my good name’s still intact.  (Skips away while hover-bouncing the basketball again)

Supervisor: (To colleague) Who was that clown anyway?  (Is answered with a shrug, and the entire event is forgotten immediately by all present)

(Back home, Friend 1 hovers a finger over the cell phone to select and call Friend 2’s number from the contact list)

Friend 2: Hel-lo, ears still vibrating from last night?

Friend 1: Yes – listen, I tried it today and decided the whole thing just isn’t working out.

Friend 2: You neglected to mention the topic of conversation.

Friend 1: The telekinesis thing!  I’ve done it, and it’s just not worth it.

Friend 2: You’ve still lost me in the woods of your brain.

Friend 1: I’ve done it all – using it for minor conveniences, trying to save the world, the whole shebang: the people have already turned against me, and now I can’t risk you, my lifelong friend, eventually transforming into my ultimate nemesis I’ll have to regrettably destroy, I just can’t!

Friend 2: What are you talking – ?

Friend 1: No superpower is worth losing our souls or our unbreakable friendship over, so don’t try to misguidedly convince me otherwise!

Friend 2: OK.  I won’t.  I’m going back to dinner with my parents now.

Friend 1: Oh, sorry to interrupt, tell `em I said “Hi!”

Friend 2: Will do – bye.  (Ends the call)

Friend 1: (Sets down the phone, then walks over to the living room window and stares heroically out it) The eternal quandary: in order to save the world, I must give up the power I love most.  It’s a noble sacrifice I’ll gladly suffer in silence for.  (Suddenly looks down at the ground near the apartment building and sees an oblivious car about to clip an oblivious jogger; Friend 1 holds out a hand and delays the jogger long enough to miss the car; both continue on their oblivious ways.  Friend 1 grimaces slightly, eyes darting around in guilt) Maybe just that once.

Wednesday, October 3, 2018

Story 258: With My Plot Armor, I Shall Be Invincible!


            The warehouse was bursting at the seams with all the plot devices any character could ever want; this Protagonist, however, had strict instructions to retrieve only one.
         “Hi there!”  The Caretaker emerged from a random aisle and vigorously shook the Protagonist’s hand.  “Welcome to the World of Fiction’s Supply-O-Rama and Trade Emporium, my friend!”
           “Thank you.”  The newly-created Protagonist was uncertain how to feel from moment-to-moment, or even what feelings exactly were.  “The Author sent me here; said it was vitally important before I embark on The Plot – I mean, my Hero’s Journey.”
            “Yes indeedy!”  The smile never lessened in intensity.  “We were contacted ahead of your visit, and I have it all ready for you!”  The Caretaker led the Protagonist to a prominently positioned card table, upon which lay an important-looking wooden crate with “PRICELESS” stamped on all sides.  “Go ahead – open it up!”
            The Protagonist grabbed a crowbar helpfully left on the table and levered open the crate’s top lid; after digging through the packing material, the contents were revealed.
            The Protagonist raised an eyebrow at the Caretaker: “A suit of armor?”
            “Yeppers!  It’s the One-Size-Fits-All Plot Armor!”
            “But... how can I… what does it do?”
            The Caretaker raised a finger: “The question you should be asking is, ‘What doesn’t it do?’”
            They stood expectantly staring at each for a few moments before the Caretaker said, “That’s your cue to ask the question.”
           “Oh, sorry, I thought it was rhetorical.”  They blinked at each other some more.  “OK, what doesn’t it do?”
            “Nothing!”
            “What?”  The Protagonist’s new brain could not handle multiple double negatives at this stage of its development.
            The Caretaker reached into the crate and pulled out the armor’s breastplate to demonstrate.  “Plot Armor is that most wonderful of all inventions, in that it makes one truly immortal.  You can face literally all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and still be around to celebrate the last page at ‘The End.’  An entire building can be dropped on your head, and it’ll turn out to either have missed you unbeknownst to the narrator or you’ll be resurrected in the sequel, all thanks to this baby.”  The Caretaker patted the plate lovingly.
            “Really?”  The Protagonist grabbed a gauntlet.  “An entire building, you say?”
            “Absolutely!  It also can be an entire army, and you just standing there facing them all by your lonesome; or a rogue sniper who has you perfectly in their crosshairs; or a previously incurable disease; even old age, that sneaky foe.”
            “Wow.”  The Protagonist grabbed the breastplate from the Caretaker for a closer look.  “And all I have to do is wear this clunky thing all the time?”
            The Caretaker chuckled.  “Yes, but don’t worry: no one can see it once it’s on.  However, all the world will know it’s there.”
            “How?”
           “Because you will never die, even when virtually anyone else in that same situation would have, and you ultimately succeed in every single thing you do.  Silly,” the Caretaker added, playfully punching the Protagonist’s shoulder.  “The Author put a rush on this – even requested extra plating – so I think you’re in for one doozy of a ride!  Want to try it on?”
            The Protagonist put the Armor back into the crate and placed the latter onto a helpfully nearby hand truck: “I think I’m good for now, thanks.  I probably should go… prep for my adventure, or something.”
           “All righty!”  The Caretaker waved as the Protagonist wheeled the crate towards the exit.  “Remember: wear your Plot Armor at all times, and NEVER EVER TAKE IT OFF, for maximum efficacy!”
            Boy, the Protagonist thought, what have I gotten myself into if I need Plot Armor this much?  Will there be a Plot War?