🚀 go-pugleaf

        Widget #1

        By Dan Regewitz


        High atop a craggy cliff, past a nearly overgrown path rested an
ancient monastery. Within this monastery was a great decorated chair upon
which sat an old oriental figure dressed in samurai garb. His dark eyes
gazed off into space, as the wind softly rang the wind chimes outside the
main temple. He mumbled something softly in his native tongue. If I were
closer and knew chinese, I might be able to relate his words to you, but I
don't and I'm not.

<->
        Half a world away in 'Yet-another-big-city-on-the-east-coast
city,' it was a clam peaceful night. At least it was relatively calm and
peaceful. At least calm and peaceful as a big city can be late at night.
Correction, as calm as the BAD part of a big city can be late at night.
All RIGHT! It wasn't that calm at all OK?

        A figure lie slumped in an ally-way. He tries desperately to gain
some shelter from the bitter autumn air, to no avail. Our subject here is
one of the petty nameless faces of the homeless of the big city. But we
follow his story for a good reason. This nameless face is about to receive
a purpose, he is about to be plowed over by that car that is coming around
the corner at high speeds. *SCREECH!* "Why the Hell(tm) did you stop man?"
came a city accented voice from within the vehicle.
"Cool it, this isn't a street, it's an alley, I gotta back up." A second
voice, obviously not raised in the city, replied.
"Hurry man, the cops are gonna get us!" the first man exclaimed,
frightened.
"Relax, they prolly don't even know what happened yet." The second voice
replied, as he backed out of his turn, back into the main road.

        Imagine this my friend, you are a homeless person, you haven't
been having the best day anyway, you just got woken up by the screeching
of tires, that would have killed you if they had gone their way. Aim
Smyth, our afformentioned, until now nameless street bum, was in this very
situation, and suffice to say he wasn't to happy with it.

        Aim got up, and wrapped his trenchcoat around him. He just stared
at the two men in the car. They stared back at him. He could make out the
latino on the passenger side say something about Aim as a possible
witness. Aim did not allow the two ruffians any chance to contemplate
whether to kill him or not.

        Aim knew instinctively what he must do. He concentrated on the
offending driver, sending out a mental bolt causing the driver to be
unable to act.

<authorial intrusion>
        At this point you may be wondering where the heck did our friend
Aim get this amazing power. All right you may not be, but I would like to
tell you. No, really I'd like to tell you, but I won't. Sorry!

<back to the story>
        "What was that about killing me?" Aim calmly asked the
un-paralyzed individual in the car.
        "Oh, shit, the homeless guy is a superguy." The latino provided
for our less intelligent readers. Now, Aim had never thought of himself of
belonging to that particular class of citizens. In fact he had always
thought of himself as a lowlife homeless person (don't get me wrong, after
all that IS what he is). Aim mentally crossed his fingers, and tried to
fire another mind-paralyzing bolt at the latino.

        We all know that homeless people can't be very lucky, after all
they would probably be a bit better off if they were. Aim, failed to fire
that mental bolt. He crossed his real fingers hoping that the latino
criminal would not notice. "Hey, stupid hero, lost his powers. I'm gonna
score me a superguy!" With that the vile scum got out of the running, but
not moving car, and started walking toward our hero with a nasty looking
grin on his face.

        A light dawned upon Aim, as if a sacred boon from above came down
and caused him to gain some insight into his new situation. Aim performed
a strange sweeping motion with one hand, then began to dance his fingers
in the air. "What the Hell(tm) are you doing? What is that some mystical
shit?" The smile had dropped away from the criminal's face.

<authorial intrusion>
        If I could take a certain amount of liberty here and step into
Paco's mind (that latino criminal Aim is freaking out), we would see a
most confusing and psychedelic warping of color and light. Unfortunately I
can't do that, so I will leave Paco's
experience to your vivid imagination.

<back to the story>
Needless to say Paco, out of sheer confusion, ran away.

        Aim counted himself lucky. It was not every day a power informed
him that he had another power at his disposal. Within that brief moment of
light, Aim knew that he gained new powers. Which meant of course that he
would probably never see the old one again. One of the boons that was
granted to him was a slightly more efficient intelligence. However, on his
way to the homeless shelter for breakfast (for it was actually getting
close to that time), the slight hyper-intelligence faded, only an hour
after Aim had achieved it.

        You see this was Aim's problem. Ever since his 'accident' he has
had powers, but never for very long. He was almost constantly relearning
how to use what was at his disposal. Ah, here's that shelter. Aim sniffed
the air just outside the door, and determined that like always they were
serving powdered eggs, and spam.

        Aim mulled over his situation as he got in line. It must have been
the enhanced intelligence, now gone, that told him he had that mystical
confusion ability. At least now he 'knew' how to use that if the need
aroused. "Hey Kit, how are you?" despite the fact that Aim was Aim's name
everyone he knew at the shelter called him Kit, and he had no idea why.
Aim looked up at Susan. Ah, she was pretty as ever, that long brown hair,
those maze-like brown eyes, that somewhat weighty but pert bodice.
<Susan let's out a sigh of relief, and thanks the author for using the
word 'bodice' instead of some other words he could have used.> Aim
remembered her before he dropped out of college, but wasn't sure if she
knew that he even went there.
"Eh." Aim replied not really wanting to face the buxom lass.
"You look a little different, are you sure you're OK?" Susan persisted.
"Yeah, I'm sure." Aim replied as he took his food and moved to a far off
corner of the cafeteria. No-one knew Aim's problem. Everyone who knew him
thought that either he had a *achem* habit that kept him in the gutter, or
was a chronic failure. Aim sat there toiling over his powdered eggs.
Remembering . . .

<meanwhile in a secret hideout somewhere>
        "Zo let me get thiZ Ztraight, you could not get the CHemicalZ I
require because you were prevented by a Zuperguy who called himself,
'HomeleZ guy', how unimaginative." A voice from the darkness inquired.
        "Yessir, Mr. Dr. sir, that's what happened." Paco told his employer
a half-truth.
        "I will find thiZ 'homeleZ guy,' I will show him not to deal with
Dr. Generic Germanic!"
<dissolve to black with maniacal laughter by Dr. G.>

<authorial intrusion>
        What am I insane? where did that name come from?
        "I don't know Zir, but I AM Zupposed to be thiZ generic mad
ZcientiZt type who happenZ to be German." Dr G pointed out.
        Well I can't go back and change it now, better keep going.

<Back to the flash-back Aim is having.>
        Aim was not always a street bum. In fact it had been a little over
a year and a half ago that he dropped out of college, and hit the streets.
At the time he did not have a place to stay. He tried to get an apartment,
but was refused. His first set of power(s) was a curse, not a blessing. A
blatantly obvious hard armor shell that made him a deject of society.

        Aim eventually pawned all the stuff he owned, in attempt to merely
survive. He became one of the countless thousands on the streets. Aim
would have loved to retreat to the safety of hearth and the place he USED
to call home . However his parents refused to believe that his new form
was their son Aim. Needless to say they thought that he was some cretin
playing a sick and twisted joke on them.

        It wasn't until a year later that Aim's true power became known.
Aim accidentally got the way of a bus that was out of control. Stopped it
quite nicely, but after Aim arose from under the bus he no longer had his
armor. He had a new set of powers which basically included the paralyzing
mind-bolts, and that was it.

        Aim did not return home. Heck, a year of poverty will severely
limit one's options. Aim had half convinced himself that he didn't want to
go home and his parents didn't want him home.

        Aim recalled using the mind-bolt once to prevent himself from
getting beaten up by a gang. Having your leader paralyzed, and the rest
will follow. So Both of his prior powers worked only long enough for him
to get two uses out of them. What happened this morning was odd though. He
did have two enhancements on him, granted the enhanced intelligence was
temporary, but still that makes his ability all the more random.

        "Hey, Kit, how is the spam?" A fellow homeless person interrupted
the flashback.
        "Oh, hi Gar. I don't know haven't tried any yet." Aim replied. The
man's real name was Gary, but Aim just called him Gar. As much as Gar's
story as Aim could make out he was a tugboat and ferry captain all his
life. Managed to send his eldest to college. The ungrateful bitch returned
the favor by putting him in a home early. Gar of course escaped, but can't
go back home cause his daughter will put back in a home, if she still
thinks he is alive.

        Gar warily tried some of the spam. He was an old fart. He had
greasy thinning gray hair, and an old captain's hat which you never saw
him without. He dressed in the typical rags, and old coat. A stubble was
always on his chin. "Mmn, it's good spam, you should try it!"
        "No offense Gar, but I never liked spam." Aim droned
medocratically.
        "Oh, really? do you mind if I take that spam that is on your
plate?" Gar looked at Aim hopefully through his squinted eyes. Aim nodded
a little too engrossed in his own thoughts to disagree.

<meanwhile back at Dr. G's secret lab>
        "I need a plan, I need to Ztrike where thiZ HomeleZ guy hurtZ
moZt." Dr. G remarked aloud..
        "What about the homeless shelters boss?" Paco sugested mildly.
        "Paco, I have a fabulouZ idea!" Dr G exclaimed.
        "What is it boss?" Paco sounded interested.
        "I will attack Ze homeleZ ZelterZ! But wait how, Mmn." The Dr..
trailed off softly. Paco mearly stands there giving empty space this 'I
knew that was gonna happen' look. "Paco, go out and round up Zome of your
leZ lawful friendZ, I have a plan!"
<Fade to black, Dr. G once again offering some maniacal laughter>

<On the streets of philadelphia, I mean
'Yet-another-big-city-on-the-east-coast, City.'>

        Aim wandered down a nameless street he must have walked down a
thousand times before. Gar tagged along beside him, chewing on a bit of
spam. Aim wordlessly checked his various pockets, and came out with five
dollars in ones and loose change. He returned the money to his coat, and
continued walking, not really knowing where he was going. Sirens could be
heard in the distance.
        "Hey Kit, something wrong with you? You look different." Gar
inquired.
        "Let's just say I have a reason to think a lot." Aim replied.
        "Eh, what are you planing to do today, Kit?" Gar continued his
inquisition. Just then off in the distance a window shattered, and a
scream was heard. This being nothing out of the ordinary in a bad part of
town, Aim just kept on walking.
        "I don't know." Aim replied. Another scream sounded, from the same
direction, but was more intense than the first. Aim looked up at the
buildings around him. That punk had thought he was a superguy when he
paralyzed the other one. Perhaps, he should check this out, for no other
reason than to find out what's happening.
        "Tell you what Gar, I'll meet you at the shelter tonight, I gotta
do some thinking." Aim told his companion.
        "Um, sure Kit . . ." Gar trailed off, a little disappointed, as
Aim walked quickly towards the sound of the last scream.

<perspective change, to Aim>
        I stumbled into a second floor apartment, the place looked
ransacked, in addition to it being a hole in the first place. A figure
lied on the floor huddled, weeping, a trickle of blood flowed from beneath
her.
        "Holy, are you OK?" I exclaimed.
        "Get away from me!" The woman reared upward, tears still in her
eyes. She was holding onto something that was wrapped in a blanket,
covered with blood.
        "Whoa! I have not come here to hurt you." The woman looked at me
with these shock-filled, tear-stricken eyes, still sobbing slightly.
"Relax, just tell me what happened." I said calmly.
        "What happened? What happened! The fucking bastard killed my baby
is what happened!" With this the woman continued to weep. I stood there in
shock for a moment, wondering what the heck I could do next. I reached
over to see if I could get a pulse from the limp form. The mother pulled
away from me.
        "I can help." I said simply and calmly. She quietly offered her
bundle for my inspection. I weekly felt a pulse. It is truly amazing how
much blood the body can loose and still function. I despite my first aid
class I took when I was still in school, didn't know what to do for the
baby. A glimmer of hope shone in the mothers eyes, as I realized I didn't
know what the heck I was doing, but she thought I did.

        I reached into myself, hope beyond hope, that I might have another
power to help this child, and something clicked. I looked closely at the
baby, attempting to determine what effect I was having on it. I thought it
was nothing, but inexplicably, the child started wailing like there was no
tomorrow. "My god!" exclaimed the mother. After a minute of wailing, I
made a cursory observation of the child's wounds, and found most were not
serious. What an oddity, with this amount of blood you would think that
there would be something more serious.
        "Are you OK?" I asked the Woman. She nodded silently, taking her
child into her hands. I noted the trail of blood to the open window.
Whomever it was made it down the fire escape.
        "Sir, who are you?" The mother asked me, tears in her eyes.
        "Me, just another nameless face in the crowd of thousands." I
remarked, trying to determine if a pursuit was in order.
        "Oh, no sir, you ain't a nobody, you a somebody, you is an angel."
The mother smiled down at her child.
        "I want you to report this to the police, and see to it that your
baby receives medical attention, I've got to go." I said making a excuse.
The woman just smiled at me, as I left the room.

        The rest of my day was uneventful, spent some money on lunch at a
fast food place, walked around, sulked, etc. I met Gar at the shelter as I
said, for supper. Supper was of course the same thing they always had
synthetic turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes with sides of canned
vegetables. I avoided Susan like the plague, I didn't want her prying into
how I was doing, probably would just make her depressed.
        "There you are Kit, how does it feel to be a hero?" Gar surprised
me from behind.
        "What are you talking about?" I asked confused.
        "It was on the six o'clock news. Some artist drew a pretty good
picture of this 'angel' who saved a baby boys life!" Gar explained. "And
it was a dead ringer for you." Already I had begun to look around me,
pointed fingers and hushed whispers surrounded me.
        "Damn." I said referring to the uncomfortable position I found
myself in.
        "Yeah, and every body here now knows that," I quickly covered his
big mouth with my hand.
        "Gar, I got news for you, that wasn't me, OK?" I pounded into his
thick skull, as I lied royally.
        "OK Kit, if you say so, I believe you." Gar replied meekly.

<returning to authorial narrative>
        Aim had a problem, two events had transpired. Both events he was
involved in. In both cases the witnesses mistook him for a superguy. There
was only two things he could do, (1) become a supper-hero, why the heck
not or (2) attempt to run away from this foul situation. "To bad you ain't
he though Kit." Gar remarked rhetorically.
        "Really, why is that?" Aim replied.
        "The news people are offering a thousand dollars to get an
interview with the guy." Gar informed him.
        "Really?" Aim asked a rhetorical question. Outside he attempted to
show nothing, inside Aim had a big smile on his face. Why not become a
superguy?

<------>
Yes, why not become a superguy?
What about Dr. G?
Is the author high?
Where did he get this character anyway?
Will he get good reviews and continue writing?

These answers and more can only be found in the next episode of: "The
Widget!"
Only on ZUPERGUY, I mean SUPERGUY!
<----->


-From "The Critique of Pure Weirdness"
-Dan (Maniac) R.