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Rated: 13+ · Draft · Fantasy · #962651
Ever wonder about the word of sidekicks?
“Once again the day is saved and the world as we know it is safe. I don’t see why we do this. It’s not like they’re concerned about what happens after they leave. They’re going to mess it up again tomorrow anyway. Could someone tell me the point?” A female voice rich in agitation and ill humor.

Piles of debris littered the street. Automobiles lay strewn about like discarded toys. Sign post resembled broken twigs and branches. Streetlights flickered off and on. Smoke and dust hung in the air. Voices faded in and out mixing with the sound of collapsing constructions. Burn rubber was the perfume of the day.

The sound of sweeping stopped a male voice was clear through the mess, “The point is to make them look good, so it has to be clean.”

“Why, when neither side takes us into consideration when we’re the ones that have to clean up their mess.” The sweeping resumed as a female voice responded.

The sweeping stopped again, “Look if all you are going to do is complain why did you take this job?”

“I couldn’t cut it in superhero school and my sidekick license was revoked.”

“So you took a job with a clean-up crew.”

“Yes, what kind of job could I get with only ‘sidekick goof-up’ as experience?”

The two continue to work in silence.

“Sooo,” the sweeping stopped. “Does it bother you to be cleaning up after successful superheroes, sidekicks and villains?”

“What makes you think I wasn’t successful at what I did? Why are you suddenly obsessed with knowing how I feel when I see what I could have been? My goal in life since childhood.” She wiped at her eyes suddenly.

“All I was doing was asking you how you feel about it. People have the tendency to flip-out when they are repeatedly reminded of something they enjoyed doing but can not anymore.”

“Look I’m not going to flip-out on you or anyone else.” She sighed, “I’ve come to grips with it.”

“Sure you have. Go take a breather.”

“You don’t believe me do you?”

“Of course I do.”

She shook her head. “No you don’t. Look I know its true and so do you, so please don’t lie. Show me some respect as a person at least.”

He stopped picking up the chunks of concrete and looked at the young woman standing downwind of him. She stood with fists balled up at her side. Her breathing was erratic in an attempt to restrain her anger. She was nearly a foot and a half shorter than his six foot two. He realized that her stance was one of defense, done out of habit and guessed based on the reactions other gave to her when she talked about her former job. He held out a hand to her, “Look I am sorry if I hit a sore nerve. If you had told me about your former position I would have given you a better position than out doors work.”

“Do you think I can’t handle manual labor? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. Just as long as I have enough money to pay my bills and feed myself I’ll do whatever.”

“How about we compromise. What if I take my break with you and we can talk.”

“Whatever.” She said shrugging.

“It will give you a chance to vent some steam.”

“Who said I needed to vent some steam?” Her eyes narrowed.

“If I were you I would want to.”

“ Well you’re not.” She snapped.

“Or it could be that steam coming out of your ears,” he mutters under his breath.

“I heard that. Don’t assume you know me.”

“Look I’m trying to be nice.”

“No one asked you to.”

“But since I’m the boss,” he said ignoring her last comment, “I am going to do it anyway. Think of it as a required stress management seminar. Come along.”

He grabbed her hand and gently tugged her behind him. They both knew the other three people on the crew were watching, but they wouldn’t say anything. They knew not to upset the site boss. If you upset the boss, he’ll up set your check.
© Copyright 2005 EnonMeekachu (enonascribe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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