Life-long dream

My hand wraps around the cold glass of water, the beads of condensation moisten my gloves. The water permeates through the cloth and I feel wetness on my hands. I raise the ice cold beverage to my mouth and take a long swallow. I lower the refreshing drink back down to the table, with a splash. A couple drops leap over the edge, onto the table cloth.

"I can’t believe we have to pay for drinks," states the Blog, AKA Joel Nielsen. "What kind of superhero convention is this? I paid $250 bucks for this crap."

"Easy Blog," I, Dung Beetle Guy, respond. "You know we only came here to hear Superman speak. Everything else doesn’t matter." I finish the sentence with a sigh. I’ve dreamed about seeing Superman since..., well as long as I can remember. This is a chance to accomplish one of my life-long dreams.

Joel became the Blog after numerous nights sitting at Rolf’s, creating and crafting blogs. One night, not so long ago, a power surge ripped through his frayed powercord and his blog Broken Controller merged with his body. Now he spouts off mindless drivel from his life and thinks everyone wants to know. His costume is what ever he is wearing. He really isn’t a superhero, but after he whined enough I let him join me on my escapades. He’s my sidekick. Every good superhero needs a protege.

"This is crap. I don’t care about Superman," Joel says just before I backhand him across the face. Joel falls out of his chair and reappears with a red mark imprinted on his face.

"Don’t ever say that," I inform the Blog.

"This one time at Rolf’s a customer said something, and I misheard them. What I heard was really funny, but what they said was something normal," Joel tells me.

I finally clue in that he is using his "supposed" superpower on me. Unlike most people, I have no attention span and can drown Joel out. All I hear now is "Blah, Blah, one time, Blah, Blah, Rolf’s...."

I look to the table next to ours. It’s the Tick and Arthur. If only Joel and I were like them. They have the greatest life. And who can come up with a better yell than "spooooon." The fear that word puts into the hearts of his enemies. One day that will be me. One day.

I put my elbows on the table, rest my head on my hands and daydream. Joel still rambles on and on. "This one time at Rolf’s I did this online quiz and it said I was a sex machine. Blah, Blah, Blah."