Jesus was a Super Hero

The leaves danced like ginger girls hopscotching their way through suburban streets. From the step, Kieran could see the garden path splitting the lawn, leading to the gate. Opening clasps, one and then two, he looked into the lair of his purple, yellow and black lunchbox. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, wrapped like see through Christmas presents, blackcurrant cordial that camouflaged itself with the inside lining and frilled no-frills crisps lay inside. Biting into triangular crust free, gluten free, wheat free bread, jelly fell out and onto his little finger.

‘Dunner, dunner, dunner, dunner, Batmaaaan,’ he sung whilst chewing thirty three times. He readjusted his thin-framed glasses, getting the red splodge on his cape.
‘Timmy’s gonna love this suit,’ he said, replacing the box, still open, on the step. Kieran leaped up and rang the doorbell again.

‘Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.’

No answer.

He slumped back down, but then readjusted his posture so not to stretch the Lycra. Two kids road past on bikes, shouting ‘Gay’ and ‘Poof’ at Kieran, but then they carried on and sped off down the oak shaded road. He didn’t bother looking up, instead he got out his merchandised notepad and matching pen, and thought how he wished Mum had packed Cheesy Puffs.
‘I’ll write him a note I think. I can’t spend the last days of summer on a doorstep…’
He noted ‘stop talking to self’ down on his pad, adding to ‘buy Bat Gun’ and ‘ask Mum for a pet bat – say I’ll clean my room everyday for a year – if she says ‘no’ it can be my Christmas and Birthday present,’ and tore away a page to write his note.

KABLAMO!
KABLAMO!
KABLAMO!

This is in
Riddle

So others can’t
Fiddle

Come to my
Lair

If you
Dare.

He signed it – ‘Your caped brother has gone into the night’ – and he was done. Folding it up into halves, then three-quarters and finally in a triangle, for added security. He tucked it under the doormat, with its head poking out, just enough for Timmy to see.

As Kieran was dusting the bristle from the mat off his thighs there was a
‘Beeeeep!’
He jumped up and turned around from the mat. A white Honda was creeping up the drive now only yards away from him. He knew it was Timmy and his mother before he saw the noon sun reflecting off the bonnet, highlighting the dent in the hood magnified by his glasses. Saluting to shield his eyes from the rays he shouted,
‘Timmmmmmmy!’
And he was saluted back.
‘Why are you dressed like that?!’ Kieran said.
‘Permission to speak sir.’ Timmy replied, leaping out of the back door.
‘Erm, yes…’
‘Because we’re playing soldiers, Mum just bought me all this camo stuff, it’s really cool. Check out my gun.’ Timmy pulled a black piece of plastic from his belt. ‘Pow, pow, pow! You like it Kieran…? Hey why are you dressed… you look like Batman…’
‘Hello Kieran, I like your costume, how’s your mother?’ Timmy’s mum said.
‘Thank you, Mum’s okay, she just bought it for me actually Mrs. Sanders.’
‘Well you and Timothy can play, right after he helps me unpack the shopping. You can stay for lunch if you want, we’re having dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. But bring those bags in first Timothy, maybe Batman can help.’
Kieran ran over to the boot, uprooted two bags and with the help of Timmy went inside. The house was like that from a Mr. Muscle advert; clean and disinfectant white. Even though Timmy tried his best to ruin it by running through after soccer practices, treading mud through the hall, it didn’t work.

Kieran and Timmy took the bags and went into the kitchen hurling them up on to the counter, which now they were seven and three quarters they could finally reach.
‘So why do you look like Batman?’ Timmy said as he sat on a stool, elbows on the counter in anticipation for lunch.
‘Because playing Army is boring. We’re going to play superheroes. They’re way cooler,’
‘Yeh, but I just bought this outfit, I thought we agreed on playing Army until school starts.’
‘Reisse Patterson thinks Army is lame. He plays Spiderman, and he has a Spider gun and everything. It shoots webs. He showed me yesterday.’
The smell of the dinosaur chicken pieces was drifting through the air, both boys breathing it in between words. Kieran opened his lunchbox, looked inside, and ran to the bin behind Mrs. Sander’s back, carefully placing each item in the bin so not to make a sound. Running back to the counter he asked,
‘Mrs. Sanders may I please have some lunch, I forgot my lunchbox’, whilst tucking it behind his cape.
‘Of course you can Kieran, you need to fill out that Lycra suit of yours. Just let me finishing chopping this celery. Then I’ll have a cigarette and lunch will be ready.’
Chop, chop, chop went the celery. She grabbed a firm hold of the stick and went out of the kitchen reappearing in the window to the back garden. She had her cigarette in hand puffing away. The twirling smoke made her look like Puff the Magic Dragon.

‘Yeh, so anyway, Mum won’t let me get another outfit. She said this Army one is my Christmas and Birthday present, it cost like forty pounds.’ Timmy said.
‘I’m going to get a Bat.’
‘Cricket?’
‘No, the animal durgh…’
‘Wow! That’s mega cool! What other superheroes are there? I wanna be one! Wow, a bat…’ Timmy replied.
‘Erm I don’t know, I just Googled superheroes and found Batman. And Reisse is Spiderman, so you can’t be that, cos’ then you’re be a copy cat.’ He had his hand on his beard. He didn’t have a beard, but his Dad would stroke his beard when thinking, so Kieran did it too.
‘Why are you stroking your chin?’
‘That’s what you do when you’re thinking…. Let’s go check the Internet and search “HardMen” and “Mega Cool Guys”.’
‘Wow, that chin stroking thing really works, can I try?’
Timmy lent over, thumb and index finger pistol shaped, and stroked Kieran’s chin.
‘It’s not working… Try your own…’ Kieran said.
‘Okay…hmm…what shall I get my sister for her Birthday….’ Rub, rub, rub. ‘A water pistol! Wow! This chin stuff is cool, we should tell all the guys at school, it’ll be like Pokemon, but better, and we’ll be really cool. It’s like Aladdin’s lamp on the bottom of your head! Wow! Let’s go to the Internet.’ Timmy said swivelling three hundred and sixty degrees on his chair.

The boys then bounced off their stools and ran up the ship-decked floors. Kieran thought it was from a real Pirate ship. When they used to play Pirates they would skid around the overly polished floorboards battling with swords in hand. They left Mrs. Sanders outside doing a hand jig, alternating celery and cigarette in some kind of mesmerizing union, like a Riverdance between the two. The boys ran on up.

When they reached the dimly lit office of Timmy’s dad Kieran sat at the desk, shook the mouse in a type of epileptic fit and woke the screen up. Even though it was midday the room was dark, the blue curtains drawn creating a glow that crept out into the glaring white hall. This was Timmy’s Dad’s place, his secret base.
Kieran typed; h-a-r-d m-e-n into the search engine. But the boys quickly changed the page, searching; m-e-g-a c-o-o-l g-u-y-s instead. That turned up more promising and like a lighting bolt from Olympus one search result stood out. It read, ‘JOIN ME AND SAVE THE WORLD’ in big bold font. Timmy was sold and nodded furiously,
‘I want to be him! Let’s have a look…’
The machine gurgled and the page loaded. Kieran opened it.
‘Wow, it says he is real.’ Kieran said slack jawed.
‘Look, Kieran,’ Timmy poked the screen, creating a pond of plasma, ‘Mexicans pronounce his name HeyZeus.’
‘It’s better than the other guy we found, HardMen have to be oiled up, and you’d slip all over the floor boards if you were one of them,’ Kieran said starring transfixed and the image.
‘He came back from the dead?! That’s better than Spiderman! And if I stick one of Mum’s wigs on, and wrap a rose bush around my head I’ll look just like him,’ Timmy said eagerly.
‘Yeh! And a robe! You can use a bed sheet for that,’ Kieran replied.
‘Shiiit yeh! Kazooga!’ Timmy screamed running out of the study. He turned around looking to see if Kieran was following him, from the hall the room looked as if it was swimming in blue light like an aquarium, and then out of abyss stepped Kieran, hands on his hips then fist in the air.
‘Alright HeyZeus! Let’s go!’ He screamed. And they ran back down the stairs and into the kitchen ready for dinosaur chicken bits.

When Mrs. Sanders came back in the kitchen the food was ready and she laid it out on Simpson’s themed plates for the boys. The light danced off the crusty T-Rexs like lard in a bowl of oil. Yum, yum, yummy. The boys tucked in.
‘We’re not playing Army anymore, Mum,’ Timmy said stuffing a Velociraptor into his mouth. ‘We’re gonna be superheroes.’
‘I just bought you that outfit Timothy. It was a lot of money. And I’m not buying you a SuperMan costume,’ she said.
‘I’m not going to be SuperMen or HardMen, I’m going to be HeyZeus! But I’m gonna make my own costume, I promise.’ He said as he devoured an Apatosaurus. ‘HeyZeus is cool.’
‘Hey-Zeus? Jesus Christ, is that another cartoon? I’m not buying into all that marketing crap Timmy.’ Mrs. Sanders said pinching some deformed crossbreed of a Tyrannosaurus and Diplodocus off her son’s plate popping it in to her mouth.
‘Well, you two eat up and put your plates in the sink. I’m going to Uncle Brian’s place. You know Brian? He just broke up with his wife. I’ll be back before Daddy gets home from work, okay?’ She said ruffling Timmy’s bowl cut auburn hair like she was polishing her floorboards.
‘Cut it out Mum, you’re embarrassing me.’

The boys finished their meals and did as they were told. By this time Mrs. Sanders had already gone.
‘Our first mission is to find a costume. You get the rose bush, and bed sheet. I’ll get the wig.’ Kieran said.
‘Lets gooooo!’ Timmy made a war cry.
‘Superheroes don’t do that Timmy.’
‘Oh,’ Timmy said and ran out to the garden. This was probably not the best order in which to do things. But he did it anyway too eager in anticipation of the missions they were about to venture on. Kieran went upstairs, down the hall and into the master bedroom. Tip-toeing his way around the bed, checking not to leave any trace of mud that might give him away on the beige carpet, he approached the doors. Tall and white they melted into the walls. A secret cave indeed. Checking all exits, he whispered ‘Open Sesame’ and the opened the door. Inside were trap doors, killer zombies, evil villains and fur coats. All invisible of course. Well, apart from the Fur coats but they were made of Mammoth fur. Batman entered the lair, watching out for volcanoes. And there it was at the end of the closet, on a dressing table, decapitated expressionless white heads with the Holy Beard. Kieran strolled up and slowly removed the brown wig off the mannequin. He was careful not to touch the book by its side that read ‘The Seven Step guide to dealing with Breast Cancer’. Reisse told him if you touch a booby you get cooties, Kieran didn’t want to take the chance. Cooties were Batman’s only weakness. But as he pulled the wig up, some of the hairs were caught under the book, and it tumbled like an avalanche down onto his foot.
‘Aaaaaaarghhhhh nooooooooooo!!’ Kieran cried.
Suddenly there were rushing footsteps, like a stampede from Jumanji tearing down upon him. He hid in the Mammoth skin coat and prayed for HeyZeus to rescue him. Batman was thinking how they should have spent more time practicing telepathy when they wanted to be psychics in sixth grade but it didn’t work.
‘What the fuck are you doing in Mum’s mink coat Kieran?! Get the fuck out!’. It was Natalie. Evil Natalie. Arch-lord-nemesis-Natalie. The older sister. Batman could only run, so he rubbed the beard, which was now dangling between his open palm and ran, ran, ran.
WHAM! KAPOW! BANG! POW!
And he was gone. Ducking under Natalie’s arm.

When Batman reached the kitchen HeyZeus was there, dressed in a rose bush and bed sheet. He was ready, minus the magic beard.
‘That’s going to look cool, let me put it on.’ Timmy said.
‘If you rub it it’s magic.’
‘Jesus Christ that’s cool!’
‘Mhmm. HeyZeus…’
‘Yes Batman?’
‘We have an enemy; she nearly fooled my capturing of the Holy Beard. Her name… BitchGirl.’ Batman said through gritted teeth. ‘I had to Kapow! her to get away.’
‘Good god that was a close call,’ HeyZeus sighed. ‘Kieran, what does bitch mean exactly? I mean, I know what it means, but what does it mean…? Uncle Brian calls his ex-wife it.’
‘Ermm, it means someone who has cooties.’
‘Oh, cool.’
‘Cooties isn’t cool.’
After the boys had sorted that one out they had their second mission – to infiltrate BitchGirl’s lair. Batman set about drawing up the plans, HeyZeus collecting supplies.

After pillaging the house like a Viking drunk on mead HeyZeus hauled his box of supplies on the counter at which Batman sat, scrawling away, cape under his bum. The dark purple notepad hid the black writing on it, but it worked for Batman. It was harder to read. Harder for BitchGirl to decipher.
‘The plan is simple; climb up the ladder to the tree house a.k.a the lair of doom and cooties, and attack’, Batman stated. ‘What’s our ammo count HeyZeus?’
‘Thou hath a ladle, a frying pan, a Sabertooth coat and a bottle of wine.’
‘That’s Mammoth skin HeyZeus,’ Batman said bitterly. ‘Couldn’t you find any good things?’
‘Well I looked for my slingshot but Mum confiscated it.’
‘You are HeyZeus. You have no mother.’
‘I mean Mary. She must hath teamed up with BitchGirl.’
‘Ahh well the force of evil is strong, the time is nigh. We must go forth.’
‘Batman…it’s not night…it’s 3pm?’
‘Forth I said!’
‘Fifth?’ Timmy said.
‘Erm….let’s just go into the garden yeh?’ Kieran said.
‘Okay.’
Timmy and Kieran were gone.

Batman and HeyZeus stepped into the garden and hid in a forest that looked suspiciously like shrubbery. They sheltered from the sun, which was now dropping down through the leaves like lava from a volcano.
‘There’s the lair,’ Batman said as he pointed to the big oak tree that shaded the whole garden in its embrace of the sky.
‘The castle on the volcano?’ HeyZeus said starring at the tree house.
‘Yes. We must go now.’
‘Wait.’
‘What HeyZeus?!’
‘I read the other day that bats are nookie-turnal.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That they only go out at night,’
‘Jesus.’
‘Yes?’
‘I said Jesus, not HeyZeus.’
‘Oh,’
‘Well I must brave it, watch my back HeyZeus, I’m going in first.’ Batman peekabooed his head from out of the bushes, checking if the coast was clear and managed to reach the foot of the volcano un-upended. Lava couldn’t get him there, he was out of sight of the watchtower.

‘I like your cape…’ HeyZeus shouted across the vast desert that stretched at least fifteen yards from the forests to the volcano. Batman put his finger to his lips and simultaneously pointed it upwards to the castle. And HeyZeus parted the yard trekking to the volcano, leaping over lions disguised as Macavity, BitchGirl’s cat and snakes as garden hoses. He met Batman by the ladder that swirled itself serpent like around the tree trunk.
‘You nearly gave our position away HeyZeus, why would you do that?’
‘You said watch my back, and all I could see was the cape.’ HeyZeus replied. The afternoon sun lighted up the house like a pumpkin’s candle on Halloween compared to the shade of the Garden.
After a moment’s pause Batman said,
‘Can you hear that…?’
The sound was swirling above their heads, to the Superheroes it sounded like cooties, but it could only be eunuchs being raped. Or N’Sync. One or the other, but what Batman and HeyZeus could make out was how it was interrupted by cackles of different volume and pitch.
‘There’s more than one…BitchGirl’s sidekicks are here’ Batman said.
‘Let’s run.’
‘No, we have come this far. I’m going in.’ Batman clambered up the laddered mountain pass, looking back down ever so often to see if HeyZeus was following. He always was.

At an altitude of at least seven feet he stopped. The late summer air was being rudely interrupted by what smelt like a small forest fire. And then he heard,
‘Anyway, so Mum caught me smoking in my room and she like so totally like had a massive go at me, and I was like yeh but you smoke Mum. But she said that if she catches me smoking again I’m grounded and I won’t be able to go to the Prom. It’s so totally whack.’
‘My gawwd, your Mom is such a loser.’
Cackle, cackle, cackle.
‘I know, tell me about it.’
Batman turned around and whispered, ‘BitchGirl is with her sidekick, and they’re burning boys. I’m going in. I have to save them.’
And he leapt up surprising BitchGirl and her faithful accomplice ‘someone-or-other’. Batman leapt through the door.
‘Dunner, dunner, dunner Batmannnnnn!’, echoed across the plains of the garden over the music and screams, no longer cackles, and all HeyZeus saw from the ladder was Batman’s ass and cape.
But at the exactly the same time as the surprise attack, BitchGirl flicked, cart wheeling its way to the entrance from which Batman had come, a Nunchaku of a lit cigarette. Hitting Batman it burnt right through the Lycra. He screamed, higher pitched than BitchGirl, lost his footing and fell.
CRASH! BANG! WHALLOP! KAPOW!
HeyZeus could do nothing to save his partner from submitting to gravity. He just turned around, looked down and saw him, lying on the grass like a cockroach gassed to death. And in the dark shade of the oak tree that afternoon there was a scream,
‘JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!