I do not own The Incredibles.
I do not own a cape.
No More Capes
It was just so disrespectful.
"Capes-"
Talking during a funeral eulogy.
"Capes-"
Scribbling on paper even.
"No. More-"
She wasn't even paying attention.
"No-"
He had seen her before.
Tiny little woman.
Straight dark hair cut in a thick, blunt bob.
"More-"
Super suit designer, she was.
For all the big names.
Thunderhead.
Dynaguy.
Metaman.
You think she'd care, since she took the time to show up to them all, to actual show a little human decency and at least be quiet.
"Not one-"
But she just sat over there, muttering, grumbling, and well, it sounded like growling at times or something.
Glaring so furiously at a sketchpad held barely an inch or two from her face.
That sketchpad almost as big as she was, scratching at it so vehemently he thought it would tear in half-
"No, no capes!"
The man sighed, redirected his attention to the dull-eyed minister.
Droning on and on and on. To a barely populated room of familiar strangers.
And the muttering, growling, angry, little bespectacled woman . . .
"No more capes!"
. . . in the back row.
Writing prompt thanks to Pinterest.
And of course, my broken heart.
Because surely Edna does care.
But she's also a badass.
Anyway, thanks for reading.
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