Nobody tells me what to do. I'm a
superhero, damn it. But right now a teacher is giving me the rules of
conduct while talking to a bunch of junior high kids. I hate junior
high kids. They're the worse. Junior high is where you learn how to
be an asshole. I've never met someone that was one way between the
ages of 12 and 15 that turned out different than what I expected.
But what do I know about junior high
anyway? I was home-schooled. Sorta. I've had these powers since I was
little so keeping me in class would've been stutarded. How could they
force me to do homework when I had the ability to physically toss the
school across the city? They couldn't! That's how! So I picked up
stuff along the way from reading books like Dragonball Z and watching
Beakman's World reruns.
“Remember to not curse.”
“Okay.”
“These are children.”
“Okay.”
“You will be speaking for one hour.”
“Okay.”
“Are you listening?”
“Okay.”
“That's not an answer, Mr. Panic.”
“Okay.”
“Walter” my lady, Ronica, says to
me. She gives me a look. I told her to start working on her looks
because I tend to confuse the “Get on top of my body right now”
look with her “I never want to speak to you again” stare. “These
are children.”
“They won't be when I'm done with
'em” I say.
“What does that even mean?” this
teacher asks me. She isn't even hot. That pisses me off. When they
asked me to do this they had this hot young thang plead to come say
something inspirational to the kids at her school. I get here and
Morgan Freeman with a wig is nagging me. She honeypot me. “What is
he doing?”
“He's thinking things he shouldn't
say out loud” Ronica tells her. That's my lady. “I'll be
monitoring him to ensure that everything runs smoothly” she says.
“Nothing he does is smooth” my best
friend and human pillow Zazz chimes in while texting friends he
doesn't really have.
“You know what's smooth?” I ask and
in a moment remove his shirt. “Look at that chest. Not a single
hair!”
“Give him back his shirt” Ronica
says. I fly away and come back a few moments later and hand it back
to Zazz. He eyes it suspiciously.
“What did you do to my shirt?”
“Nothing” I say.
“Why is it wet?”
“I may or may not have dipped it in
the ocean” I say. Zazz sighs and I hate when he sighs like that.
Not because its sad but because I know his diet and it makes his
breath stink. “Fine” I say and heat his shirt with my hot hands.
“You're lucky I'm so nice” I tell him. “Otherwise these kids
would be seeing a wet t-shirt contest. You know what I'm talking
about.”
“I do not” the school
principal...official...whatever she is says. “And what is that
smell?”
“I told you your breath was...” I
begin.
“My shirt!” Zazz screams. Its
smoking but okay. Until he opens it and its covered in burned hand
prints. It looks kinda cool.
“That looks kinda cool” I tell him.
Judging by everyone's faces they do not agree.
“This may have been a mistake”
teacher librarian says.
“You know, Super Nintendo Chalmers”
I say. “Some of the greatest people in history said the exact same
thing. Jesus. Gandhi. Amelia Earhart. Optimus Prime...”
“Oh, god...” Ronica, Zazz, and Dean
Wormer moan.
Click here for previous Johnny Panic.
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