Thursday, October 29, 2009

Shame

They say you always remember your first time.

Why do you suppose they say that? Aren't we prone to remembering our first everything? It's a phrase that we could do without entirely, I think. I would very much like to throw the next person that utters it into the sun, but, as my mother used to say, that's my solution for everything.

To their credit, though, I do remember my first time. I wish I didn't. I knew a girl in college who didn't remember her first time having sex. She mentioned it in a way that suggested a sad kind of satisfaction, as if she was sad she couldn't remember, but satisfied that the potentially horrible experience was absent from her memory. It was the worst feeling I think I've ever seen. Imagine, to accept, even express some sick form of gratefulness, towards some horrible event, not because it was narrowly avoided, or that it would never happen again, or that you were somehow vindicated, but simply that you couldn't remember it happening to you. That look on her face sent chills through me that have yet to be rivaled, and I've been to space. I suppose that was another first time for me: the first time I knew what I was to do with my life.

Which brings us to the first time I was alluding to from the very beginning. You know, the whole event was really rather droll, especially for me. There was a bank, some guns, some hostages, and me, stuck in a cliche. I suppose it could have been worse. I hear as near as 20 years ago people in my profession were still wearing fabric around our necks and colors that don't occur in nature, and the opposition was joining right in. No, I was fortunate enough to be able to work in jeans and my favorite suede jacket. He wore a suit, but there was, well, here, take a look at this picture. See?

You know, we have what you might call company parties. Christmas, well, I guess it's Winter Holiday now. Force of habit. Anyway, Winter Holiday, President's Day, Veteran's Day is a big one, and of course, Capes Day. I've heard Capes day was cooked up by the greeting card companies, or the Martian Colony Separatists, or by the capes themselves. The one explanation I actually think might lend itself most to the truth is that a bunch of collectible companies came up with the holiday so they could push out t-shirts and knick-knacks with the likenesses of people who never age and never die. Whatever the case, it's nice to have a day where we can get together and reminisce about the job.

On Capes Day there's a few of us that get together to really take in why we got into this business, congratulate each other on our triumphs, lament over our failures, drink to our fallen brothers and sisters, and imagine, as we imagined when we first started, the better world we're creating down the line. Anyway, one of our traditions is to show, on a projector mind you, the photo of our first collar.

There are a total of 254 members of the Justice Legionnaires. They represent a total of 54 countries, 39 planets spread out across 3 galaxies, 2 alternate futures, and 7 parallel dimensions. I am the most gifted of all of them. The strongest, fastest, most endurable, and I have to show them Cleetus here, and they love it. They laugh and cheer and, well, the one from planet Qxitl bubbles, but we're all pretty sure it's the same thing. I have surpassed the speed of light. I have destroyed rocks twice the size of earth and touched the core of a neutron star. Meanwhile, the Grey Wolf over there hasn't even left New Jersey and can't even lift a car and his first catch was a tyrannical despot guilty of genocide.

I always turn red. I can't even help it. I mean, just look at him!

The hair!

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