Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me save for the wonderfully useless drabbles.
Madison
Square
Super Hero.
Bumlets.
Hello.
My name is
Bumlets. Obviously, that's not my real name. I mean, what Parents
in their right minds would name their kid Bumlets? That's about
the equivalent of naming a child Harry Dick. Bumlets is my
codename.
My real name is unimportant.
What is
important, however, is to declare that I am a perfectly Average
Teenage Boy. I mean, aside from the fact that I live with many other
Average Teenage Boys in a giant secret warehouse that has a giant
poster over it that says "Closed for Repairs." That sign has
been up since 1899.
I am perfectly normal. That's what I
screamed when my parents kicked me out of the house two years ago
when they saw me in my room with dozens of floating, spinning discs
surrounding my own floating, spinning form. That's when I met all
the other Average Teenage Boys.
Hello.
My name is
Bumlets, and I am a superhero.
Oh, drat. There goes the
alarm.
Stupid fucking alarm I was sleeping why can't we save the world later everything's a little blurry I need my contacts ugh okay that's better.
Stupid Bumlets floating around like that. Where is everybody else?
Bumlets says they've all already left.
Stupid everyone. Leaving me behind.
Cowboy's probably leading the way and Dave is thinking up plans and I wonder what happened this time?
Wait a minute. Is that Spot on the other bed? We should never have taken him in. He's psycho. I bet he didn't hear the alarm.
I'll go scare him awake. That'll teach him.
Ow, damn it he punched me. Stupid Spot.
He said, Fuuuck Racetrack go away I'm sleeping, but I told him work is work and get your guns.
So off we go, then. Spot is pointing that gun pretty close to my head. Watch where you point that thing.
Float, spin, drift. There goes Bumlets.
We slide into the garage and I get in my beautiful red tiny sports car with black leather interior and Spot gets in the passenger side and I zoom off, engine roaring, breaking the speed of sound.
My name is Racetrack and I am a superhero. Watch me zoom.
Super Hero. Spot.
Check this.
We're cruisin' down the road at, like, 365 miles per hour and all the buildings are blurry, right? So, then, with my super-accurate-non super-hero peripheral vision, I see the scene of the crime. I tell Racetrack to stop and he does and we get out.
Check this.
Two super-villains on the roof and four super-heroes surrounding them. They're way up high and I couldn't possibly get up there without climbing the stairs. But then Race says, Let's climb the wall.
He's stupid like that.
That's when Bumlets swoops down and scoops me up, leaving Race to scale the wall by himself. Serves him right for waking me up like that.
I have my guns and fire and bombs so I'm content. I get up to the crime-scene and everybody knows that trouble is coming.
Check this.
I'm Spot and I'm no a superhero, I just like to blow things up.
End Super Hero
(A/N): Good? Bad? Ugly?
Too lazy for shoutouts, but will next time!