Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man and yadda yadda yadda. But I Own My Character, St. Jimmy (not the name the character, ok?) So shuddap!

Let's see...how do I start this story. I mean, telling the story of my life isn't like a normal book. What, should I open up with Once Upon A Time? It Was A Dark And Stormy Night? Long, Long Ago In A Galaxy Far, Far Away? To tell this story, I need more than a dramatic introduction. I need a happy ending. And ending I am not so sure I will get.

Well, my name is Kimberly Ann Hanson, and I'm 13 years old. I act a little older than that, though. I'm extremely independent. But I'm totally immature. I skip school most of the time, I stay out late, and I smoke. Not weed or anything, but cigarettes. My older stepbrother Josh had them in his room and I found them, so I tried it. He's 16. He's such a druggie. He's never home, and the last time I think he went to school was in September.

Halloween was coming up, and I needed the perfect costume. Not for Halloween, no. I'm so over trick-or-treating. I egg the popular kids and the prep's houses. It's way more fun when they're home.

No, I needed a costume because I had received these amazing super powers. I have no frigging idea how I got them. I didn't roll in a contaminated room full of toxic waste or anything. One day when I was walking home from band practice (not school band, my band) I found out I could fly. It was wicked cool, if you could believe it (I'm a very sarcastic person also).

Anyway, I figured I'd be wearing all black, so it'd be hard to see at night, which is probably when I'd be doing all the ass kicking. I found a bin of old masks in the party store. See, I'm a smart shopper. I mostly buy things on clearance...like this awesome mask! It's like the one that guy Zorro wore, except there was nothing covering my hair. It was just like this cheap black bandanna that was sewed together and was cut so eyeholes fit through it. It was my type of mask!

So, I bought that for only three bucks, and I went home. I didn't live too far away. I opened the apartment door and walked up the stairs. Mr. Standa was watching television downstairs. He let us rent the upstairs part of his home, which is pretty big. We have one bathroom, two bedrooms, and a kitchen. It's all Josh and I need, and Josh is barley home.

He had no idea we were running from Social Services though. That old man was clueless. All he worried about was making his beer belly bigger. But we'd been hiding since I was ten years old...so that means...3 years ago. Wow. Has it really been that long?

Well I put on a black pair of jeans and a black tee shirt. I also thought of the bright idea of black gloves, so I wouldn't leave fingerprints. I'm just so smart like that. I hid my super hero attire under my bed and brought out my guitar. My Dad bought it for me and taught me how to play before the divorce. He introduced me to my favorite band of all time, Green Day. I think they're coming out with that new American Idiot album soon. Josh said I should sell my guitar so we can pay the rent easier. I told him to fuck off. Hell No! This is my guitar! Music is a huge part of my life. I'm also in a garage band called The Losers on 12th Street. I'm lead vocals and guitar. My best friends are also in the band; Jamie, who plays the drums, and Nikki, who plays base. My friends call me St. Jimmy. It's a stupid nickname I've had since I was ten. When I was in school my teacher confused me and this kid Jimmy, who had a mullet hair cut or something, so he looked like me. All the kids laughed and ate it up. It's stuck with me ever since. They put the little "Saint" in there after I became a Guitar Goddess. My band mates said it was because "we're not worthy!"

Our band rocks the house. We've had a couple of gigs already, and it makes okay cash. We're pretty fucking good, if you ask me (Ooh, that's another thing: I curse and swear a lot. Sorry. I'll try to keep it PG 13 as much as possible).

That night I figured I'd go out and try to find out what other powers I could do. I had a little trouble flying and all that. I crashed into 3 billboards and fell 5 times. I also flew into a clothing line, and banged into a wall.

After I tried to figure out what I could do and yadda yadda yadda...after a lot of pain and hard work blah blah blah...I found out I had super strength and I could shoot lasers from my eyes. That was crazy cool!

So I'm on this rooftop trying to work on my aim, and this really painful sensation came over me. I fell down and squirmed on the floor.

Oh my god...I'm dying!

Then this, this blast of physic energy emerged from my body, like a force field of some kind. And once it hovered around me like a dome, protecting me, it, like, exploded.

I screamed for help (but mostly in agony).

I passed out after that, no doubt.