Superheroes are Messy

By Austin Grisham

Superheroes are messy. You never hear about that in newspapers or online. It sure never comes up when they’re getting a medal from the president or having a school named after them. But man, saving the world is sloppy.

“Petey, you still ain’t done cleaning up that soot?” Randy called from behind me.

“No.” I tossed a scrub brush back into my bucket. For the last half hour I’d been on my knees, the hot May sun blazing down my back, trying to clean soot left from the Teen Flame off the city hall steps. “People don’t realize how much debris gets left behind when that kid ignites himself.”

“Wait.” Randy rubbed sweat from his forehead, leaning in to inspect my work. “You’re using Fi3-Omega 290 to remove that stuff?”

“Yeah, I thought—”

“Petey, I swear, Super Sizeo can shrink to a half centimeter”—Randy put his thumb and index finger together—“and even when he’s that size his brain is still twice as large as yours. You need to use the Orange2-FI4 cleaner! This ain’t rocket science man!”

He kicked my bucket over. “You’ve been the slowest guy on the crew this month. What’s with that? Go back to the supply building and pick up the right stuff! We still got to clean up the green slime from Gray Gunner’s fight with the Green Blob.” Randy pointed across the street to the park. Puke-green slime covered the place, even dripping from the trees. Moving ladders around to clean the branches was gonna be a real pain in the rear. “And”—Randy nodded toward the street—“we need you to help remove the nuclear waste Atomic Lord left behind while taking on The Alpha Defenders league.”

“Man, that means I’ll have to wear one of those RAD suits. Those things are so hot—”

“Quit whining!” Randy’s gravelly voice grew deeper. “And get the job done.” He stomped away up the street, yelling at his next victim.

“You gotta be kidding me. That guy thinks he’s Captain Awesome.” Climbing slowly to my feet, I threw my cleaning brush on the ground. A brief breeze gusted past, and a bit of gray cloth fluttered on the ground before me. It had the Gray Gunner’s G on it. I grabbed the cloth and held it up to my chest. I straightened and gazed towards the horizon.

“Mommy, is that man a superhero?” A little boy stood behind one of the barricades that had been erected after the battle.

“No honey, that’s just a janitor.” His mother tugged him away.

I looked down. Just a janitor, Petey. Closest thing you’ll get to a superhero is using that new cleaner Dr. Immaculate slapped his name on.

The tagline for the recruitment video for the SSME echoed in my mind. Join the Supreme Society of Maintenance Engineers. See the world while you assist our world’s greatest heroes!

What a bunch of nonsense.

I tossed aside the scrap and trudged back to the supply building, a small structure SSME left onsite. I searched the shelves, grabbing the bottles I needed.

A burst of static then Randy’s voice came on the radio. “Petey.” His voice was higher pitched than I’d ever heard before. “There’s something… shhhk… it mutated… crackle… shhhnn… it’s coming! … watch out!”

I ran out of the supply shop, then stopped in my tracks. A large, pill-shaped blob, a little over ten feet high, floated toward me down the street, emitting a grape-purple glow. Hair-like appendages waved from its body.

I couldn’t move. My stomach clenched in icy fear.

“Don’t worry son, I’ll stop that thing.” Captain Awesome bounded down the street, his abs and long blonde locks rippling as he ran. A wave of relief washed through me. We were saved.

I watched eagerly, the little boy in me ready to see some superhero action. But as the new threat drew near, the captain slowed and started to cough. He reached out and tried to grab part of the purple being, but he turned gray and fell to the ground, shivering.

My shoulders slumped. What the heck am I going to do?

The being hovered less than twenty feet from me. How could I stop it? What could I do that a superhero couldn’t?

I stared wildly at the purple pill shape, and something hit me—I knew exactly what it was. I’d only been a C student in biology, but I remembered the pictures from my old textbooks. This was a bacterium that must have mutated from the nuclear waste left by The Alpha Defenders’ battle.

“I know what I need.” I dashed toward the supply building. It should be there, the bottle they never talked about in training class. Running through the doorway like a jackrabbit, I searched the shelves.

“Come on, come on.” Sweat streamed down my forehead. There! In the back corner, almost hidden by the Slime-B-Gone. I reached for it just as an eerie purple glow filled the room. Turning, I tore off the cap and threw the contents at the giant bacterium.

The liquid hit dead center, and the monster’s purple turned black. Within seconds the entire being collapsed before me in a dark husk.

I dropped my hands to my knees and caught my breath.

Randy’s voice came on the radio. “Hey, Petey, you okay?”

I fumbled for the radio. “Yeah, I killed it.”

“What? How?”

“An old hand like yourself has probably heard of it.” I read off the label on the bottle in my hand. “Bleach.”

I got a promotion from that and a picture with The Alpha Defenders. The mayor even gave me a commendation. Once in a while, a kid will see me and call me “Captain Clean.” I kind of like it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Austin Grisham originally hails from Princeton, New Jersey, but happily moved to San Diego, California, a decade and a half ago. He loves the sunshine, taking walks on the beach, and writing entertaining fiction. He has self-published three novels (The James Christianson Chronicles) and seven short stories, all available on Amazon.

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