Scared To Fly
Molly noticed instantly Gregory's discomfort. "What's wrong?"
Help me!
"'Tain't nothing, Miss Molly - I do have to use the ol' outhouse."
"Outhouse - oh, the bathroom! There's one on the fifth floor..."
Jerry took umbrage to that. "I wouldn't hear of our boy
wonder using the public washroom! That
rear end belongs on an executive toilet seat!" Lawler brayed, pulling open
his desk drawer. After a bit of
fumbling, he tossed a pair of golden keys onto the desk. "You can use the can in Molly's office,
boy."
"Thank you, Sir!" Gregory seized the keys with
unseemly haste and ran out of the office.
He could hear his boss wondering if his new
hire had some form of colitis as Gregory backtracked to Molly's office. He took no notice of the pink-checked
interior, turning to the door and fumbling open its
lock.
Once secured inside, he popped open the buttons on his
two-piece suit, doffed his newsboy hat, and let fly his sensible brown
pants. Beneath them hid the truth of his
origin, his secret identity. In a final
touch, he pulled his mask, cleverly disguised as a handkerchief, from his
breast pocket. He tied it on, then examined himself in the mirror.
"Here comes the
Hurricane," he whispered to himself.
"Dang, that sounds official!" He ditched his suit behind the toilet tank, then exited the bathroom.
Molly's office window was open just a hair, and he jimmied it until it
opened. He hoped that being in the city
wouldn't impair his ability to fly - a futile thought as he threw himself into
the alleyway.
Mercifully, his body took flight, gaining altitude, quickly
cruising above the rooftops. He cocked
his sensitive ears to the cry of the victim, honing in on the sound of their
voice, tracking the frequency to a street corner. He landed beside the distressed party, a
little girl looking up into a branches of tree and
crying.
"What's the problem, little one?"
The girl, no more than five and a redhead with thick
pigtails, began to back away from him.
"Stranger danger!" she shouted.
"Fear not, good citizen! It's just me, your friendly neighborhood
Hurricane!"
"Hurricanes aren't friendly!" the little girl
cried out.
He puffed out his chest.
"This Hurricane is! How
would you like to be the first person to be helped by Titanopolis' new
superhero?"
"Okay," the little girl looked back at the
tree. "It's my cat, Mister
Snowfoot. He climbed up in this tree and
he won't come down!"
"There, there, fellow metropolitan! I shall rescue Mister Snowfoot!" He
extended his fist. "Hurricane Powers, activate!"
He took flight once more, then reached through the brambly branches and
took hold of the angry-looking white cat.
Snarling, hissing, its claws dug into Gregory's wrist.
"Son of a blizzard!" He
cried out, but didn't let go of the cat until he landed. He thrust his arm out at the girl, who pulled
the cat off of him in an agonizing blitz of pain.
"Oh, thank you, thank you mister!"
"You're welcome, little girl," he rubbed his
wrist, his good hand coming away with a thick brown substance. Another facet of his secret - when injured,
he bled pure chicken gravy. He smiled
cordially to the little girl. "Now,
if you ever need any help, call the Hurricane.
Tell your friends and neighbors, too!"
"I will, Mister!"
"Call me Hurricane!
As in Hurricane, Away!!"
The little girl watched him with wonder in her eyes, and he
knew that his legend would begin growing healthily.
***
The work day proved mind-numbingly dull. Jerry organized his schedule for the week -
he would be interviewing Governor McMahon on Tuesday, covering an international
trade summit on Wednesday, and then a dog show on Thursday. But on his first day Jerry insisted he try to
learn the way of the company - there would be plenty of time to earn his mettle
tomorrow.
Molly treated him sympathetically as she went through her
day's activities. Gregory knew he was
tolerated, but felt unsure if Molly really liked him or not. Foremost in his mind was awe - the world of
the city differed from what he had lived in the country. He tried to keep himself out of the way, but
it was impossible. The phones didn't
even have cranks here - everything was so shiny and modern, like a metallic
fever dream.
They ate lunch together - Molly's treat.
"I want to be internationally syndicated one day,"
she fantasized. "Just think - one
day everyone in the world will open their papers and see my face!"
"That's the prettiest thing to wake up with."
"Gregory," she scolded. "We must have a strict work-only
relationship!"
"But my heart works when I look at you!"
"Aww, that's sweet - and creepy. What do you dream about?"
"I don't rightly dream no more."
"Everyone dreams!" She insisted.
"Not all of us, Miss Molly. Sometimes, we don't got
the time to dream."
She looked at him oddly, but he couldn't rightly tell her
that superheroes were too busy living their dreams to make new ones. She
noticed his wrist. "Are you
hurt?"
"Oh, they ain't nothin' but cat
scratches, ma'am."
"A cat? You have a cat?"
"Uh...yeah."
"What's his or her name?"
"Mac."
"Mac the cat," she tapped her pen to her
lips. "Interesting..."
He spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding her probing
gaze.
***
Gregory Helms had a little apartment on the corner of
While checking his mailbox, a sudden impact against his back
nearly made him fall over.
"Excuse me!" A high-pitched voice entreated.
He turned around to face a young blonde girl, trying to keep
her balance on rollerblades. "No,
ma'am, it's my doin'."
"Are you new? I
haven't seen you around."
"Yes, I right am.
Name's Gregory Helms."
"Stacy Kiebler."
"And what do you do for a living, Ms. Kiebler?"
"Actually...nothing. My parents are supporting me while I go to
college."
"College - ahh, I remember that...good times...I miss
Bovine U...Many a night I spent, drinkin' grain alcohol and playin' cow
bingo..."
"Ew...well, I have to be going. I need to finish my workout routine before
six."
"Oh, that's quite all right. I'll be seeing you."
"Okay!"
Gregory thought the young woman fairly interesting.
He had been in his apartment no longer than a few minutes
when a knock sounded on his door.
"Molly?"
She stepped inside with a gesture of importance. "Oh, I wanted to give you a housewarming
gift," she brandished a bag of cat litter.
"Here! I hope Mac uses this
brand."
He wondered if he had the power to make cats appear -
unfortunately, he didn't.
"Yeah...I'll hold on to it for him."
"So, do you have any plans for tonight?"
"Nah, I was just planning on a little TV."
"TV? Titanopolis is the nightclubbing capitol of
the world! You're coming out with
me!"
"Uh...okay!"
In a wink, they were out the door.
***
Malicious eyes watched
Gregory Helms. It seemed that a rival
had at last presented itself for Titanopolis' latest supervillian.
She wanted to strike
immediately, but watching and waiting seemed to make much more sense. Her sensitive eyes were trained upon
him. She would not allow herself to lose
sight of him this night.