For the good of North Battleford

I’m sitting in my apartment. My ass is firmly planted into my futon. My hot chocolate is next to me on a coaster, on the coffee table.

I’m thinking life is grand.No more crime fighting until winter ends.

My cat fetches me the new edition of the News-Optimist. Yes my fucking cat can fetch me my damn paper. So screw you and your thinking that I’ve gone nuts in my lazy non superhero state.

I flip to the crime section to see how the world (North Battleford) is coping without their favorite guy in a spandex suit.

It doesn’t look good. There’s been two stabbings. A lot of theft and no convictions.

It’s like junky in a heroine snowstorm. The criminals are in bliss.

Now I know why Superman never takes a day off.

I look out my window at the city who needs a mask-wearing vigilante to keep the streets safe.

The sight I see is covered in a skiff of snow, so screw them. They can fight their own battles.

I can’t do everything for everyone. They need to learn for themselves. It’s for their own good.

Joel never would have known to much alcohol equals throw up, if he didn’t learn for himself.

He didn’t learn after I threw up all over the bathroom in our Amsterdam hostel.

He didn’t learn when Tyson threw up on the bartenders shoe.

He didn’t learn at that barf party.

I’m not saying he’s really stupid. I’m just saying people have to make their own mistakes for themselves.

It’s the best way to learn.

I head back to my chair. I sit back down. I take a sip of my hot chocolate. I pull out the remote and turn on the television.

A smile crosses my face. I know I’m doing North Battleford a lot of good by not helping all those innocent victims out there.

Soon they’ll be able to fend for themselves.

I’ll be out of a job here and will be able to move on to larger, needier cities.