Super Heroes

I was in the locker room one morning when I heard one of the cutesy interviews with children they occasionally do on the family-friendly radio station that plays at the gym. The interviewer was asking children what super power they’d like to have. I can only remember one child’s response because it was so amazingly ludicrous that it wiped every other silly super power from my memory.

“Meat vision.”
“Meat vision?” asks the DJ.
“Meat vision. I could look at a house and see where all of the meat was.”

I imagine this somewhat like x-ray vision. Everything but meat becomes transparent. This kid would gaze at house and it would look like a faint blueprint to him, with glowing dots marking the meat in the kitchen refrigerator and the garage deep-freeze. As he rode down the street in his parent’s car, he’d suddenly be blinded by the meat glow from the supermarket and the butcher shop. I wish I could meet this kid and ask him some of my questions about meat vision.

“WHY?” Why in the world would you want this super power? Are this child’s parents vegetarians? Are they starving him? Does he just REALLY LIKE MEAT?

“Can he see raw meat? Cooked meat? Living meat (people and animals)?” What about meat dishes? Does the hamburger in lasagna give off a faint aura?

“What will he do with his super power?” Will he use it for good or evil? Will he eat the meat or distribute it to the meat-deprived of the world?

After telling Mike about this odd super power wish, he has declared that he has meat vision. For him, it seems to be raw and cooked meat, but not living meat. He doesn’t do anything with his talent, just yells about the meat he sees as we drive down Colerain. It’s especially dangerous when driving at night, because all that meat at Outback can be terribly bright.

I have a super power too: Headache Power. I can give Mike a headache with any number of methods: babbling, singing, dancing. Sometimes I can just stare at him and his head will begin to pound. I assume I can also inflict the same damage on people I’m not married to. Now I have something to do in the next department meeting.

Together, we are the FANTASTIC TWO. If we’re going for alliteration, I suppose you could call us the TERRIBLE TWO or the TERRIFIC TWO or the TYRANNICAL TWO. I’m not sure if we’re good or evil. I suppose it depends on your point of view. For now, we’re undecided and keeping our super powers under wraps.

Headache Girl, out.