I Am, I Am Superman [Short]

weiming

I dreamt again that bullets bounced off of me. I rose and wondered if Superman has to brush his teeth while I brushed my teeth. Big steps down the steps, I leap tall banisters in a single bound, and I run to the bus stop at over three hundred and forty meters per second. Faster than a speeding yell.

Mr. Grunham is droning on about physics again, about the acceleration of gravity while I sketch my symbol in my notebook. They don’t know the “S” doesn’t stand for “Super”. They’re so dumb. When I finish, I can feel the “S” on my chest radiating waves of heat through my T-shirt. Only I can see it, because only I have X-ray infrared vision.

“Mister Lieber, would you care to answer, or have you even been listening?” Mr. Grunham is trying to use his scariest face. “Huh? Oh—nine-point-eight meters per second squared, sir.”
I am, I am Superman, and I can hear a pin drop in the next room.

“He is not!” Benny is being stupid again. He’s drinking his milk and talking so big.

“All I’m saying is, ‘Gladiator’ was written in 1930…”

“Take it back!”

“Hey, hey! Relax…ok?”

Benny’s face is funny. His shirt collar is in my fist, and let it go. Benny’s face goes back to normal. Super strength.

I wait around after school, dropping rocks off the roof at nine-point-eight meters per second squared. I could fly home if I wanted, but that’s why I don’t. Because it’s so easy, I can do it anytime. Benny is sitting on the roof and writing in his notebook behind me.

“What’s the acceleration of light again?”

“Light doesn’t accelerate.”

“What? Of course it does!”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re wrong, again. It travels at three hundred million
meters per second from the moment it’s born.”

Just like Superman. I walk home slow, using my super vision to see the ants even in the dusk. They are no match, for super strength.

The car is in the drive. The screen door closes with a slam. The lights aren’t on again, which is bad. I’m in the hall but I can see mom through the wall, because of my X-ray vision. I can see her standing in front of the television with her back to me. The television is loud but I can hear her crying to herself. Maybe if I’m quiet…

“Go to your room.”

He sits in his chair, head resting in one of his big hands. He sits in shadow,
even to my infrared vision. No heat escapes him.

“Go…to your room.”

He never raises his voice, because he is cold inside as well as out, because this is the fortress of solitude, and there is no heat. I climb the stairs. One at a time. I lay down on my bed and pull my cape about me. I am, I am Superman, and the “S” doesn’t stand for “Super”.

Halla Basin

C

jetty1

thats so emotive & sad, and well written

randylonghorn

Nice piece, actually. It manages to suggest a lot without beating you round the head with it, and does so very economically.

Anouilh

Fine surrealist writing.

http://www.lyricsdepot.com/donovan/sunshine-superman.html

Sunshine and Superman link in my brain.

weiming

Thanks for the comments. I actually took the title from the R.E.M song (and a couple of other elements from various places that comic book connoisseurs might recognise). I also find it interesting how similar the content of the song >randylonghorn posted is to the R.E.M. song.

slavetothegrind

VERY nice.
Thanks for that, enjoyed it immensly and wanted to read on.