It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.

October 09, 2004

Drinking + patrol = disaster

By the time everybody starts to leave the work party I am loaded. Margo and Evil Val Kilmer are still bowling, but he looks bored. Margo's competitive nature is apparently enhanced by alcohol; she just wants to BOWL she announces repeatedly.

Time for me to split.

Fred Schneider staggers off towards his loft with a drunken, "Ta ta!" I flag a cab down for Corine, who has been trying to keep pace with me and Fred Schneider. I've got a superhuman metabolism and Fred Schneider is a professional martini drinker, and Corine's just this little thing, so she's drunk. I put her in the cab and pay the driver. She looks up at me, and for a second she sends out that "kiss me" vibe, but I could be wrong. Maybe she's had so many drinks that I look like David Boreanaz. Anyway, I close the door and she's off.

I stagger back to the Saab. Wait a second, where am I going? I can't drive, I'm tanked.

Then it hits me.

My spare armor is in the trunk - I should go on patrol! What a great idea! I'm too drunk to drive, but fighting crime - no problem!

I forget all about Margo and Evil Val Kilmer when I start putting on the suit in the back seat. And no, I'm not going to call him Brett Eastman. He's Evil Val Kilmer.

In a few minutes I'm bounding heavily across the rooftops of Queen's Row. It's funny, every time I jump I make a loud grunting noise. I wonder if I do that when I'm sober? I always thought of myself as catlike and graceful, but I'm pounding around making water buffalo noises. I have to pee.

Then I see Margo and Evil Val Kilmer walking out of the Greyhound. Oooh, I should follow them. Maybe they'll get mugged and I can save them! That would be awesome.

I can't believe they don't hear me as I'm scrambling around on the rooftops of all these old brownstones in the Row, keeping pace with them. Between all the grunting and the shingles I kick off into the night, I make quite a racket. I stop on the corner of a rooftop and look down at them, zooming in with my goggle optics. Still have to pee.

They're walking back to a car, I suppose. Margo's leaning on him, smiling sleepily. She has one arm locked with his, listening to him talk. It's a chilly night, and the steam from her breath floats around her head like a halo. Every once in a while she looks up at him, and the look on her face, the glow - she should be looking up at me. At me, not E.V.K. Boy, I gotta pee.

I sway a little bit - the binocular goggles can really fuck up your equilibrium - and I feel my center of gravity dangerously shift. It's a three story drop to pain and humiliation.

I lurch back away from the edge, get caught up in some wires, and fall on my ass. I try to rise, but I get tangled in the wiring. I have to get up, I want to see what kind of car this pud drives. My head swims. Gin is evil.

One of the reasons I like my current, upgraded costume is that it has a detachable codpiece that makes it easy to pee. This is a crucial and often overlooked feature that is often missing in suits of full body armor, which should be designed with more than just the user's protection in mind. The old version of the armor did not have this functionality, so that's the one I use as a spare. That's the one I'm wearing tonight. Now.

I'm suddenly gripped by the urgency of the situation. My bladder is dangerously swollen and heavy with gin and tonic water. I need to piss bad!

I look around on the rooftop. I'm just going to have to go up here. I start unbuckling my utility belt.

I'm not going to make it.

"Fuck!" My fingers are suddenly thick - I can't get the buckle open.

The utility belt pops off, and then I reach around back, undo the velcro seam along my spine, and start to unzip --

I pee in my uniform.

I fucking pee in my uniform.

"No, no, no!" I cry.

Hot acidic urine gushes down my legs, soaking into the poly underlayer of the suit. The warmth crawls down towards my boots. I collapse back on the roof, groaning. "Fuuuuck!"

This isn't right. God has given me these powers, these wonderful abilities with one hand, and with the other hand he gives me a humping superfreak in a bear suit [see post Yiff Part One, 10/4/04] and a costume full of my own pee and no Margo! That ain't right!

I howl in drunken outrage at the cosmic injustice of it all. I roar into the night, filling Evergreen City with my rage. I roar like an exiled lion.

"Whyyy?!!!"

I have got to be the first superhero ever - ever - who has pissed himself.


2 comments:

Apollo The Dark said...

LOL!
Oh my gosh dude... that's just wrong... but I can't help myself from laughing! LOL!

K.Fox, Jr. said...

Wow. And after I'd gained all that respect for 'im. Just wow. I can't think of anything else to say because, as much as I laugh, I'm a pretty serious guy. Wow. Well Velvet, you've got some ground to make up (I could put in a stupid, stupid pun- like groin; but then you might not get that he has a lot fo GROUND to make up with my respect for him). Wow.