Fickle Fandom
This takes place about five years after Mamma Mia. Have you ever had your father try and steer your hobbies in other directions?
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"There's too much garlic in that."
Her shoulders stiffened and she clutched the wooden spoon as though it was her mace, but she didn't raise her voice, which was what he was hoping for.
"I like garlic," she said with forced civility. He chuckled.
Actually, her cooking isn't as bad as it used to be. She could bake a potato and grill certain vegetables. The change came about when she discovered a young British chef called Jamie Oliver whose recipes were said to be foolproof. So she was getting better, but given her badly concealed crush on said British chef John felt it was his right as her husband to wind her up.
"Where's Rex?" he asked cordially, noting her grimace as she peered into the pot of…stuff…she was trying to cook.
"Garden," she said without looking up.
John Stewart, proud husband of Shayera Hol-Stewart and equally proud father of Rex Stewart strolled into the garden. Life was good. His lungs filled with fresh air, the sun bathed him in a pleasant glow, and the melodious sound of his son's voice tinkled through the garden.
"Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever a spider can…"
Spiderman?
WTF?
Rex had his head bent over something in the grass, something blue and red that looks suspiciously like an action figure. But it couldn't be an action figure. Rex had only Batman, Flash and Green Lantern action figures. None of those had red and blue costumes. And yet, he was playing with something red and blue…maybe he had a Superman toy that John didn't know about.
"Hey son," he said casually as he knelt down beside Rex. The figure wasn't shaped like a Superman figure…
"Hi Daddy!" Rex lisped back, smiling widely.
"Watcha got there, Rex?" he asked, holding onto the casual tone.
"Spiderman," he said, holding up the doll.
It was red and blue with a myriad of black stripes, sparsely muscled with no mouth and two white oblong panels instead of eyes. It moved its puny little arms up and down when Rex pressed a little button on its back. When another button was pressed, a tinny voice proclaimed "My spidey senses are tingling." It was the worst excuse for a superhero toy John had ever seen. But judging by the way Rex was smiling, he didn't share his father's disgust.
Spiderman.
A man with the powers of a spider.
How stupid could you get!
There were so many great superheroes out there. Batman, The Martian Manhunter, Superman, Green Arrow, and to a lesser extent, The Flash. Why would Rex choose to idolise a fictional one with such weird powers? Feeling a huge amount of irritation, he stalked back into the house.
Shayera had the Jamie Oliver book out and was studying it intently. She didn't even blink when he slammed the door.
"It says here two teaspoons," she said. "How can two teaspoons be too much?"
"Where did Rex get that doll?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"What doll?"
"The Spiderman doll!"
"Oh," she said, looking a little befuddled. "Dunno."
"How can you not know? He's out there playing with it right now!" he growled.
"What's the big deal? Is it full of poison or something?"
"No, but…"
"But what?"
"Surely there are better superhero dolls out there. I mean, Spiderman isn't even real…"
"Oh," she grinned that special grin she reserved for times when she had one up on her husband. "I know what's going on here. You're pissed 'cos he's not playing with that Green Lantern doll you got him."
"That's got nothing to do with it," he protested, though she had a point. Why wasn't Rex playing with his Green Lantern toys?
"You know, he has a Hawkgirl doll he doesn't play with either. It doesn't bother me," she said breezily, and resumed stirring the…stuff.
John grunted in response. After a few moments of intense stewing, he stalked upstairs. When he returned, he was carrying a cardboard box. Shayera didn't even have to look inside to know that it was full of Green Lantern memorabilia.
An hour later, Rex came into the kitchen to announce that the Green Lanterns were the bestest superheroes ever. Spiderman lay on the lawn, discarded and forlorn.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"There's too much chilli in that."
She tensed, and he prepared to throw up a construct to protect himself from a wooden spoon being hurled at him, but it didn't happen. She forced a jovial smile instead.
"I like chilli," she said through gritted teeth. He laughed and went to the garden.
The day was sunny and pleasant, he'd gotten some really great moonshine on his last mission to Zavoc-49, and he had successfully winded up his wife. Life was good. Up until he saw Rex stomping around the garden like a deranged rhinoceros. The kid was yelling something at the top of his high-pitched voice.
"Hulk Smash!" he yelled, and kicked over some buckets. "Hulk Mad!"
"Son, what are you doing?" said John, utterly baffled.
"Hi Daddy," Rex called back. "I'm the Incredible Hulk!"
"The Incredible Who?" John asked. He couldn't see Rex's Green Lantern toys anywhere…
"He goes green and gets big when he's angry, then he throws people into cardboard boxes," the boy said breathlessly. Then he was off again, stomping and screeching and kicking over stuff.
John stalked back into the house. Shayera watched him go upstairs, retrieve another cardboard box and go back outside again. She shook her head, disgusted with him.
"Jesus, what a baby," she muttered to herself, and then went back to her cooking. The recipe said one tablespoon of chilli.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"There's too much basil in that."
He imagined he could see steam shooting out of her ears, but she kept stirring the pot of stuff. He waited for a response from her for almost two minutes, and finally it came.
"I like basil."
He laughed and patted her head in a way that was both affectionate and infuriating. Then out to the garden he skipped. His mood was particularly good that day. He'd gotten another few cases of moonshine from Zavoc-49, some of the younger Lantern Corps recruits had come on to him (not that he would ever cheat on his wife but it was nice to know he still had the touch) and he was sure he had that whole fictional hero thing Rex was playing up to licked.
Wrong.
Rex had several long sticks secured to his fingers by scotch tape and he was tearing around the garden roaring like a gibbon.
"Rex!" he shouted over the noise.
"HI DADDY!" his son roared back at him.
"What in God's name are you doing, kid?"
"I'M WOLVERINE!" he roared, then resumed his tearing around the garden.
John stomped back to the house, his mood black as pitch. He slammed the door shut and shouted, mostly to himself but a little for his wife's benefit.
"WHO THE HELL IS WOLVERINE?"
He stomped up the stairs to retrieve the Lantern box again. Shayera rolled her eyes. The recipe said three teaspoons of basil. John was right, she had used too much. She wasn't about to admit it though.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Time passed. Shayera learned the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon. Rex went through every fictional superhero under the sun as his father went through more and more moonshine to calm his nerves. Finally he thought he had the last of the phase out of his son's system.
He started his morning the usual way; slagging his wife's cooking.
"There's too much…"
"There is not. Shut the fk up!"
He laughed. The payoff was considerably better, she'd lost her temper. Made all the repetition worthwhile. Wandering outside, he expected to see Rex dressed in that miniature Green Lantern costume he'd bought at the weekend.
He didn't expect to see Rex in a red tunic, red pants, khaki boots and a long khaki scarf. He was tearing around the garden with his arms raised in front of him, making aeroplane noises.
"What the…?" he stuttered. Surely they had run out of superheroes?
"Hi Daddy!" called Rex. "I'm Cyborg 009 today!"
John didn't respond. He walked back into the house in a daze.
"What's wrong?" Shayera asked when she saw his face. He didn't look angry, just stunned.
"What's Cyborg 009? He looks like a little communist…"
"It's one of those crazy Japanese cartoons. He loves it."
John sank wearily into a kitchen chair.
"Why is he so set against the real heroes? There's so many of them, but he chooses ones that don't exist… I just don't get it."
"Why are you making this such a big deal?" she asked, leaving her cooking pot on the stove and sitting beside him. "He's a child. Let him play with his own toys."
"It's more than the toys. Why is he choosing the fictional heroes over real ones? Wouldn't it be better if he identified with a real person?" he grumbled.
"Not necessarily. Remember when everyone worshipped those things… what's the word…celebrities, is that right?"
"Yeah," he grumbled, wondering what she was implying.
"And remember how most of them were doing drugs, committing crimes, bribing police and generally setting a bad example? Superheroes are just people, really. Someday we're going to hear about Wonder Woman getting arrested for indecent exposure outside a nightclub or Green Arrow hustling underage hookers or Batman running an international heroin smuggling ring. Then you'll be sorry you encouraged Rex to look up to them."
"Oh, come on," he groaned. "Those celebrities were in it for the money! What about the real heroes, the fire-fighters an policemen and…"
"What about the ones that were arrested for corruption and embezzlement and fraud? Doesn't make what they did any less heroic but it makes a difference anyway. Fictional stars are infallible. That's why kids like them so much."
"How do you know so much about this, anyway? You said there was no television on Thanagar."
"I did nothing but watch your TV during my pregnancy. That Doctor Phil is one smart guy."
She was right, but he wasn't about to admit it. He got up and went to Rex's room, which now held about seventy different action figures. Some real, some fictional. On top of the pine dresser was a copy of the manga Cyborg 009. He sat down on the bed and leafed through the comic.
It was actually quite good. One of the main characters was an escaped African slave.
The End
