Sometimes, a superhero just wanted to take a lunch break.
After a few hours of patrolling the downtown area in the Larry Mobile, sometimes a superhero just wanted to park his car, enter an air-conditioned Ichaburger to order a toasty-loaf combo to go, then enjoy a little picnic for himself at the gazebo near the city park.
What a superhero typically did not want was a fame-starved broccoli with a camera hounding him across the town square to get an exclusive interview.
"C'mon, just give me ten minutes of your time!" Beau Rockley urged as he hopped after LarryBoy. "Your fans will eat this up!"
"And I want to eat my lunch," LarryBoy muttered, gripping the paper bag and his soda cup.
"That works too! Show the viewers that you do more than take a bite outta crime."
LarryBoy rolled his eyes but maintained his professional politeness. He had encountered Beau Rockley multiple times over the years, and usually he would ignore the broccoli until Beau gave up, but this time Beau seemed more desperate than normal.
LarryBoy reached the gazebo steps and plopped down, laying his things beside him. He pulled out his toasty loaf, savoring the unique aroma of a burger patty with PBJ, but before he could sink his tooth into it, Beau all but shoved the camera into his face.
"Evil never rests, but LarryBoy still finds time to take a lunch break," Beau narrated.
LarryBoy leaned back with a frown, beginning to lose his appetite.
"You made a Tom Celeriac film a few years ago," he reminded Beau. "Why are you back in tabloid entertainment?"
"Hey, everyone goes through a dry spell," Beau retorted. "An exclusive interview from the L-Man himself could be the difference between me getting back on my feet and living in my old truck. You have the power to make or break me, Superhero."
LarryBoy hesitated. Ordinarily, he rebuffed any of Beau's attempts to exploit his hero work to obtain fame and fortune, but he was not completely unsympathetic. Even tabloid reporters had to keep a roof over their heads.
"Well, maybe a few questions," he relented, "but only—"
"Excellent!" Beau grinned, pouncing on the opportunity. He grabbed hold of LarryBoy's shoulder, causing the cucumber to drop his sandwich, and tugged him around the gazebo. "Over there! The light's better, and we'll have all these buildings in the background…"
LarryBoy reluctantly allowed Beau to haul him right through the park to the city street on the other side, and Beau made him move side to side until he found just the right spot for LarryBoy to look awe-inspiring. Since he no longer had an assistant, Beau had to mount the camera against his right shoulder and hold out the microphone with his invisible hand.
"Now then!" urged the broccoli. "These are the big, big, big questions that LarryBoy fans are asking all over the country! First off, do you have a girlfriend?"
LarryBoy smiled in spite of himself. Without turning around to look, he was acutely aware that on the other side of the small park was the back of a particular shop which faced the town square, one with a glass, egg-shaped dome on its top; however, he could not draw Beau's attention to that special place, and so he faced the camera lens with a neutral expression.
"I can honestly say I don't have a girlfriend at this time," he answered. "Honestly."
"Just as well," Beau smirked. "Your fangirls will love to know you're still single. Gives them hope."
Well, I wouldn't say I'm single, LarryBoy thought, but of course he could not tell Beau that. "What else?"
"Tell the viewers some of the things LarryBoy likes to do when he's not in costume."
"Oh, the things other Veggies are into," LarryBoy replied with a breezy shrug. "I read my Bible. I ride my bike. I like collecting comic books, skateboarding, softball, Bob'N'Larry Ball, bulldozer driving. You know, this and that."
"Good, good." Beau's adjusted the focus on the lens. "It's not a complete snooze fest."
"Why, thank you," LarryBoy replied automatically before Beau's words fully registered. "Wait, what?"
Beau raised his head from the eyepiece.
"Look, between you and me, bike rides and comic books aren't what the people want to hear about when it comes to superheroes. They want to imagine their idols doing cool things so that they, the viewers, can live vicariously through them. Now, that bulldozer stuff is exciting! Extreme! People would pay to see LarryBoy driving a bulldozer. Think of the ratings!"
LarryBoy drew back, turning. "Maybe I better go."
He turned and started back through the park toward the town square, and Beau hurried after him.
"Wait! Wait! Just a few more questions! I need some good sound bites if I'm going to take this to a producer!"
"I gave you more than enough time," LarryBoy retorted without looking back.
"Please, man! The rent's due next week!"
LarryBoy reluctantly slowed. "You wouldn't kid about that, would you?"
"Does this look like the face of a broccoli who jokes about money?" Beau demanded, tilting his head back to give LarryBoy a good view of his green visage.
LarryBoy grimaced, feeling his conscience prick. Maybe he did not like Beau Rockley, but he did not want to see the guy homeless.
"Okay, just a few more, but as long as they're stuff I want to answer," LarryBoy warned.
"Noted." Beau lifted the camera again and held out the microphone. "Now, here's a sizzling question that your fans want to know. What is LarryBoy like in private? Who is the cuke beneath the helmet?"
LarryBoy raised an eyebrow. "You're not seriously asking for my secret identity, are you?"
"Of course not! The mystery is part of your appeal," Beau insisted, "but give the viewers at home a few of those puzzle pieces. When LarryBoy is living his civilian life, is he hitting the gym and doing kickboxing? Is he a secret agent for Mayor Archibald and going on exciting adventures? What kind of man is he?"
"Just a regular cuke," LarryBoy admitted. "Happy to be silly, collecting my comic books and eating sardines."
"Sardines?!" Beau made a face. "Ugh, your fangirls are going to change the channel if they think you go around with fish breath!"
"Well, Petu—" he started to say before he caught himself. "Well, some people like me just how I am, and I brush my tooth for them."
"Oh, you're big on dental hygiene?" Beau returned his attention to the eye piece. "That's at least salvageable. The fangirls will like that."
LarryBoy's lips jerked downward. "You keep bringing up fangirls. What's the deal with that?"
"What, are you surprised?" Beau shrugged. "The more famous a superhero is, the more fans he has."
"That's not why I'm a hero," LarryBoy insisted. "I try to help people. I don't care if I get any fame for it."
"And the ladies love a modest man."
"That isn't love," LarryBoy returned, shaking his head. "That's just hero worship."
"Same thing. Speaking of which" — Beau adjusted the lens once more — "if one of your fangirls just happens to win my upcoming 'Win a Date with LarryBoy Sweepstakes,' where can she expect you to take her?"
The cucumber balked. "Win a what with LarryBoy?!"
"Just a little publicity stunt I dreamed up," Beau replied. "Still a work in progress, but you could make a lot of dreams come true, my man. We could hold the sweepstakes every few months until every girl on the planet gets a chance to date a real hero."
"Out of the question!" LarryBoy fumed. "This interview is over."
He spun and marched back toward the square, aiming for the Larry-Mobile by the Ichaburger. Beau sprinted after him, flinging himself into LarryBoy's path just before the cucumber could reach his car.
"C'mon, LB! Think of all your screaming fangirls! Thousands and thousands! You're going to disappoint them if you walk away now!"
"Look, I don't care how many fangirls I have!" LarryBoy snapped. "My wife is the only gal I need, so there!"
Beau Rockley's eyes widened, then suddenly gleamed.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, pushing the microphone right into LarryBoy's face. "Are you telling our viewers that there's a Mrs. LarryBoy out there?"
LarryBoy's heart twisted in alarm. "Well, uh, ah…"
"Straight from the horse's mouth!" Beau crowed. "America's Most Eligible Bachelor is taken! Oh, this is TV gold!"
LarryBoy edged back, but Beau matched him, hop for hop.
"Who could have stolen LB's heart? Is she a superheroine? A princess you saved from some dastardly supervillain? Spill the beans! Your fangirls will be heartbroken, but think of the ratings!"
LarryBoy bumped into a fire hydrant on the edge of the sidewalk. His gaze darted side to side, looking for an escape route, and his eyes fell upon the nearby shop with the egg-shaped dome on its top. Seeing that caused his throat to clench, and without pausing to think he pressed a button on his utility belt.
Immediately, his jetpack sprung to life, unfolding a pair of wings which ignited with blue flame. Beau Rockley jumped back in surprise, and LarryBoy leapt up and rocketed straight into the air.
LarryBoy zoomed right up to the Ceiling Fan above the Living Room, and he lighted upon one still Blade, hitting the button to deactivate the jetpack. Without looking, he was sure Beau Rockley had the camera pointed at his hiding place, and Beau was no doubt rattling off a bunch of attention-grabbing one-liners, speculating about LarryBoy's marital life.
"I could have handled that better," LarryBoy groaned to himself, flopping onto his back.
Of all the promises he had ever made, his wedding vow to protect his bride was one which he held close to his heart, but just a little slip, by his own lips, may have endangered his lady. Once villains like Yambot, Aprilcot, or the Mad Pickler discovered LarryBoy had a wife, they were sure to start tracking her down.
We might have to move to a new House. We might have to enter a witness-protection program or move in with Aunt Ruth or Cousin George until the heat dies down. I might have to quit being LarryBoy altogether, just to keep her safe.
…Then if that was what he had to do to protect his bride, then he would have to do it. He was her hero, before any other Veggie.
With grim determination, LarryBoy reached into his suit pocket and withdrew his watermelon-themed cell phone. He found his wife's number and touched it. He listened to the chirping ring until a pleasant, humming voice answered.
"Hey, cukey pie. How's my handsome hero doing?"
The warm, trusting affection in her tone made LarryBoy swallow with guilt.
"Petunia, sweetie, uh…" He cleared his throat. "I think I might have just messed something up…"
THE END