All My Friends Are Superheroes Read Free Page B

of emotional energy and release it in one blinding bolt. But beware: the Battery’s allegiances aren’t to good or evil, but simply against whatever stands in her way. Friend, foe or innocent bystander – the Battery’s emotional energy bursts are unpredictable and she will strike at will.
    THE COUCH SURFER
    Empowered with the ability to sustain life and limb without a job, steady companion or permanent place of residence, the Couch Surfer can be found roaming from couch to couch of friends’ apartments all across the city.
    The Couch Surfer is not only able to withstand long periods of acute poverty but is also able to nutritionally sustain himself with only handfuls of breakfast cereals, slices of dry bread and condiments. Mysteriously always has cigarettes.
    THE STRESS BUNNY
    If you arrive at a party and suddenly find yourself completely relaxed, there’s a good chance the Stress Bunny is there. Blessed with the ability to absorb the stress of everyone in a fifty-foot radius, the Stress Bunny is invited to every party, every outing.
    Her power originates from her strict Catholic upbringing.
    THE DANCER
    The Dancer has direct communication with God, much like a personal phone line. The telephone she uses is her body and she dials by dancing. As such, her dancing is a very, very sensual thing.
    In the past, whenever she went out dancing, she got hit on and hit on and hit on. She didn’t like this at all. She hated it. It wasn’t what she was trying to do. She just wanted to talk to God. She almost gave up dancing altogether. Then she got an idea.
    Now, just before she goes out dancing, the Dancer straddles a photocopier and makes copies of her vagina. When guys come up and hit on her, she just hands them a copy.

FIVE

THE ANXIETY MONSTER
    The Perfectionist still hasn’t boarded. Tom watches her wait in line. She takes a baby step. She sets down her luggage. She waits for the man in front of her to take a baby step. He does. The Perfectionist picks up her carry-on, swings it over her shoulder and takes a baby step. She sets down her carry-on. She waits.
    Tom squirms in the plastic chair and looks away. He could never do what she’s doing. It would fill him with anxiety, something Tom learned to avoid at the end of his first official date with the Perfectionist.
    The dinner had been Italian. The movie had been black and white. On the walk home, their arms brushed threetimes. She invited him up and made coffee. They sat four inches apart on the Perfectionist’s white sofa.
    The Perfectionist tilted her head slightly to the right. Tom swallowed. She leaned towards him. She closed her eyes. Someone knocked on her door.
    ‘Just ignore it and it’ll go away,’ the Perfectionist said. She leaned in closer. Tom felt her breath on his lips. There was another knock.
    ‘I’ll ... I’ll get it,’ Tom said.
    The Perfectionist sighed. Tom wiped his hands on his jeans. He got off the couch and opened the door. He had almost no time to react – the monster at the door was struggling to claw his face off.
    Tom slammed the door shut. He locked it. He put his back to it. The thing started screaming. It sounded like a blender.
    ‘Was it tall?’ the Perfectionist asked him.
    ‘What?’ Tom yelled. The thing was screaming very loudly.
    ‘Was it tall?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘Pointed fingernails?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘Long, scabby arms?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘It smelled like cigarettes and cough syrup?’
    ‘That’s it!’
    ‘That’s an anxiety monster,’ she said. ‘I’m having a bath.’
    ‘What?’ Tom screamed.
    ‘It’s for you, not me. I’m having a bath,’ she stated. Tom didn’t reply. His back remained firmly pressed to her front door. She saw the look of terror in his eyes.
    ‘Do you love me?’ she asked him.
    Tom did love her. He’d been in love with her for four months. He could remember the day it had happened. It had snowed overnight and the linoleum floor was cold under his feet. Tom wore nothing but a