Sometimes I want to use my powers for evil. Okay, not really evil but. . . revenge. In the moment, I tell myself I'd be doing the world a favor and that the people I would . . . "correct" deserve it.
But those days come when my superpowers are at their weakest, those days like today when I'm (apparently) invisible to the world. Do you have those days?
You do. I know you do. Because if you read this blog you are smart, intelligent, witty, and erudite, which means the evil MagmaSplotch who drives hate and selfishness into the spirits of men (and women) is after you, too. And occasionally gets you.
I see a hand raised over there. . . yes, what is your question? Oh, you want to know what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about the motorcyclist who swerved across two lanes to occupy the spot I was in, and then gesticulated in a manner most unpleasant, as if he'd reserved that patch of tarmac earlier in the day. I'm talking about the little green VW Bug that does not, in fact, fit into the small gap between me and the car in front of me, and wouldn't fit even if it had signaled. Which it didn't. I'm talking about the black Ford truck whose driver has the magical ability to conjure up a lane where the rest of us see nothing but hard shoulder. Such talent.
And most of all, I'm talking about the woman sitting quietly in her car as traffic drifts along, the woman who has made herself immune to my penetrating, fiery-hot, "glare of destruction." I know, I know, you can't imagine someone not suffering under that glare. I think I know why she was immune though: she was too busy applying eye-liner while watching the road while driving while taking sips of coffee from a regular (not travel) mug. Even more impressive talent. You can imagine how impressed I was when she lifted a bowl of cereal (I assume it wasn't soup) from the passenger seat and started feeding it into her mouth.
Lord knows what she would have done if her phone had rung. I suppose I should be grateful she wasn't driving a stick-shift. At least, I assume she wasn't.
On the plus side for today, when a defense lawyer approaches me in court this morning and says, "Hey, can we talk about my client's case? He's the one who shot three nuns while they were helping a blind Nobel Peace Prize winner across the street," I'll probably just say, "Oh, that's all he did?" and mean it.