Super 0

by Paulson, Daniel

  It wasn’t long before Tommy was up and semi-functional again, he’d only been out cold briefly for reasons that he couldn’t fathom. He concluded that he must’ve passed out from sheer frustration at the loss of his perfect pumpkins. There was one more pumpkin to unveil, however, given the fact that he had just been out for the count, Tommy decided that it was likely that his heart couldn’t take another crushing blow. He brushed himself off and returned inside with nothing for his labour and months of cultivating gone to waste. It was time to throw in the trowel.

  There were many other activities that Tommy could pursue aside from cultivating lewd vegetables. He was a keen stamp collector in his youth but with the invention of e-mail, stamps were becoming increasingly obsolete. Fencing had always appealed to Tommy, the idea of putting up a fence was quite satisfying and then getting to paint it afterwards sounded like a real thrill, the only downside was that he would have to tear down people’s fences in order to erect new ones, the serious fencers would do so with abandon and not ask for permission from the fence’s legal guardian. Tommy didn’t think he could compete with the serious fencers and so went off of that idea reasoning that if he couldn’t be the best then there was no point trying. An old school friend of Tommy’s had taken up glass blowing and was pretty well known for her creations, amongst other things, he thought that he should give her a call to learn the ropes.

  Phone books became redundant long ago therefore looking up her name and address in that beefy tome was out of the question, besides, she could’ve moved out of the region by then. All he had was an old class photo from decades prior which only contained a list of the pupil’s names in a vague sense of order in relation to where they were on the photo. Much to Tommy’s chagrin, there wasn’t so much as a forwarding address on the class photo, simply her name and an image of what she used to look like nestled between a young boy with his tongue sticking out of his mouth and a girl who looked more like she belonged in the school of dour. On a side note, that girl did indeed graduate from the prestigious University of Dour where her final paper was on the virtues of looking like a bulldog who just licked piss from a nettle – she graduated top of her class. The boy with his tongue sticking out did not graduate from any university and was rumoured to still be in elementary school in the very same class.

  It was a fruitless and half-hearted search for his former classmate, Tommy wasn’t really interested in glass blowing and only had the passion for cultivating lewd vegetables and the occasional fruit. Broken could aptly describe Tommy. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and be done with the day, perhaps the new dawn would herald a new beginning blossoming with fresh inspirations. He made his way to the bathroom and undressed. Placed one foot in the bath and then hauled the other in after it. Standing upright in the bathtub, he turned the shower dial… and exploded all over the bathroom.

  Several days later, a rather nosey neighbour was peeking into Tommy’s garden. In the allotment they saw a stalk rising proudly from the earth. The neighbour approached the stalk on tip-toes so as not to disturb Tommy, whose entrails were plastered all over his bathroom but that’s beside the point, the stalk was too inviting. The neighbour firmly grasped the stalk but softly pulled upwards. The earth fell away gently to reveal the most sumptuous pumpkin ever seen. The neighbour wept at its beauty.

  PETER

  Ever noticed how most secret identities contain alliteration? There’s that guy who’s not really fantastic, the big hulking one, the pool of death, honestly, it’s a big list. Carmichael had also noticed this trend in comic books, he’d noticed it even at the dawn of his comic reading career. That’s why as soon as Carmichael was old enough, he legally changed his name to Peter. The newly dubbed Peter Piper took another mighty step on the road to becoming a superhero.

  Hold up, let’s rewind a little to when Peter (A.K.A. Carmichael at the time but I’ll just refer to him as Peter because Carmichael has too many letters that I can’t be bothered to type…. Sue me) was a child. One of the most frustrating, and in a way convenient, aspects of being a child is that his parents didn’t allow him to bring uranium into the house, they also didn’t allow saffron into the house but for wholly different reasons. Peter didn’t like going outdoors much and instead preferred to immerse himself in the latest issues of comic books. He’d spent days pouring over each frame to gather clues as to how to become a superhero. It didn’t matter to him when everyone told him that superheroes didn’t exist, he believed that if they made comic books about them then they must exist. Needless to say, Peter never did too well at school.

  Irrespective of his poor academic performances, Peter could name a list of superheroes and all of their powers on a list the size of your arm if your arm was akin to one belonging to an orangutan. He’d spent careful hours studying the origins of superpowers, making a chart of each. There were the lucky folk that were just born with it, people that were scientifically experimented on, and some who actually used technology to simulate having superpowers, the latter group are in fact pseudo-super and the kind of people that Peter despised. Ultimately, Peter had boiled down the number one cause of superpowers to *drum roll no thank you* radiation. It was a lightbulb moment for Peter, therefore he made his way towards the switch and turned the light on because it was getting dark outside. Peter devised a strategy to obtain superpowers because by hook or by crook he would obtain them alright, obtain them to the bone, obtain them, OBTAIN THEM. Alas, he had certain obstacles to face until he could live out his dream, those pesky parents and the pesky school would have to occupy a lot of Peter’s time, and inevitably the dream would have to wait.

  And so, each day Peter waited for the day when he could move out of his parents’ house and resume his ultimate quest. Even though what he should’ve been doing was studying instead he was reading more and more comic books and devising a clever strategy to become a superhero. His grand scheme hadn’t accounted for failing his exams and being forced to take a low paying job at a supermarket but he just considered it a mere roadblock, eventually he would start his journey, even if it meant bagging unsavoury people’s food and doing it with a smile even though you’re really trying hard not to breathe through your nose due to the horrific smells emanating from the customer. The customer’s always right, except when concerning matters of hygiene.

  After years of toiling and telling people to have a nice day with about as much sincerity as a walnut choking someone with a severe nut allergy, Peter had earned enough for a trip of a lifetime. And that’s enough rewinding for now, we pick up again as the newly christened Peter Piper stepped out of the municipal building where he changed his name. His parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their Carmichael changing his name to Peter but then again they were very much dead by this time so they weren’t really too keen on anything. If only Peter had the foresight to choose another name beginning with ‘P’, he hadn’t considered the famous tongue twister that also concerned a Peter Piper, doubled with the fact that he worked at supermarket meant that colleagues would often leave a pair of peppers on his checkout and at one time a pair of pickled pyjamas in his locker.

  But it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, Peter Piper was, in his mind, a winner. Peter had at last earned enough money to go to his dream destination and enact his plan. Peter was going to Chernobyl.

  After the resounding failure of his first holiday to Nagasaki, Peter decided that for this year he had to up the ante and so bought tickets to Kiev, from there he would venture to the wasteland of Chernobyl and be the hero he always knew he could. Throughout the epic journey, Peter was engrossed in his comics, the airport had a decent selection of the new issues which he was devouring with hungry eyes. It didn’t matter if they were dark and gritty, light and comical or dimly-lit and erotic, Peter would consume them all. He stuffed them delicately into his hand luggage as he disembarked the flying metal bird, the airport processing was arduous and devoid of fun as you’d expect. But as soon as Peter was free from the mundanity o
f the airport he made his way to the hotel to prepare for the next leg of his journey.

  The morning sun rising over the skyline of Kiev heralded the start of a new day as it does after every few hours or so in a period of twenty four hours around 365 days per year regardless of the city, village, town or hamlet that it rises over the skyline of. Yes, it was a new day. Like any other day. Except on this day, a dream was about to come true, a lifetime of dedication was about to be paid off. Maybe.

  Peter had arranged for a local guide to take him to Chernobyl, he’d been in contact with this guide for months and so felt like he had developed a rapport with him. Vlad was his name. Despite the months of contact online, Peter had never seen a picture of Vlad and so was met with a pleasant surprise when a large hairy figure entered the hotel lobby and walked right on passed Peter because Vlad was in fact the smaller, more rotund gentleman that was previously obscured by the hulking mass.

  “Ah, Piper Peter, welcome to Kiev. I hope you’re ready for a tour to remember by me Vlad the Limpaler!” Vlad’s pronoun game was a little off in places, but he had such vim and vigour that Peter didn’t have the heart to tell him. He presumed that Vlad had simply mispronounced impaler until Vlad approached him with a noticeable limp.

  “Great, yes I’m ready. Been waiting my whole life for this moment”

  “Good, good Piper Peter we go now, no time to. How to say. Dilly dally!” Despite this, Peter had to slow his pace considerably to allow for Vlad and his limp to keep up on the short journey to the car.

  “Where we go. Very dangerous. But I know a secret way in. No trouble. Do you have the cigarettes I spoke you about” In their communications, Vlad had indeed instructed Peter to bring a pack of cigarettes with him, Peter had assumed that this was to bribe any guards in case of trouble, however, he was disappointed and felt somewhat used when Vlad opened the pack and took a cigarette for himself.

  They trundled along beaten paths in their 4x4 which was more of a 2x4 length of wood with wheels and about as comfortable. Until they finally arrived at the edge of their destination. Vlad opened his car door to regain circulation in his legs. In so doing a cloud of smoke followed him as it at last escaped the confines of the vehicle and was free to breathe. Peter followed suit and also stepped out of the car, a cloud, albeit smaller, followed him out of the car too. Quite needy things those clouds of smoke.

  “This is the border between where it is safe. And where it is not” Vlad helpfully said despite Peter clearly reading the same sign.

  “This is where I leave you, Vlad no go inside. Vlad wait here”

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  “No. No. You go. Vlad wait. Vlad said so in email” Vlad had him there, Peter reflected that not once did Vlad ever state that he’d go in with him. He’d actually made it pretty clear that going in was a stupid idea and that he wanted no piece of that pie. Peter had no choice but to accept that and trust that Vlad would be waiting for him when he was done. After all, he felt like they had developed a rapport.

  It was beautiful in a way, the run-down abandoned streets of Chernobyl. Nature had reclaimed the most part of it with trees sprouting as tall as the collapsed structures surrounding them. Beautifully dystopian. Vlad had told Peter that he would be waiting at that exact spot where he left him for two hours, after that he was gone. Peter didn’t spare a thought for how Vlad would be spending those two hours as he figured it was probably best not to think of such things, besides, the dilapidated buildings and air full of radiation occupied the most part of Peter’s mind. He took long deep breaths when he was at the point of the nuclear explosion. He wanted it all, kind of greedy in a way but also kind of selfless as though he was absorbing all of the radiation in an effort to return life to the once great place.

  Peter trod paths that had long since been forgotten, there were remnants of a time when they were in frequent use, the odd shoe lining the streets, a burnt out vehicle of sorts, all indicators that at one point this place was alive. That’s not to say that there were no signs of current life in Chernobyl, Peter saw the occasional fox lurking about and a stray dog. There was a host of insect life as well, one such caterpillar was watching Peter with a keen interest, or about as much interest as a caterpillar can have, which is to say not a lot. Perhaps it was due to the radiation or perhaps this was just a relatively intelligent caterpillar, regardless, the bug crawled its way towards Peter, ensuring to keep a safe distance, and then when Peter had stopped for a water break, the caterpillar made a break for it and leapt into his bag. Peter was oblivious of course, he was far more fascinated by the angle of the crack in the nearby building to notice such trivial things as potentially radioactive insects crawling into his bag. If you must know, it was at a 66 degree angle.

  Disappointment was what Peter felt when it was time to leave the devastated wasteland, he’d hoped to spend longer there but could only afford a brief weekend trip away. He felt much more positive about that experience than his last trip to Nagasaki. On that trip, he came home thinking his transformation was about to begin when he felt a little ill upon his return. He was ill but excited for he knew that all superheroes go through a stage of illness and then emerge as the heroes they are. Sadly, it was just food poisoning.

  Vlad was as he said he’d be when Peter arrived, he’d set up a quaint blanket and held a nice little picnic. As Peter drew closer he noticed that Vlad was serving tea to one of the teddy bears tied to his vehicle’s grill. It goes without saying that Vlad’s pinky was out stretched as he poured the imaginary liquid into the bear’s cup. Even though Peter was now in full view of the tea party, Vlad was not abashed.

  “Ah, Peter. Vlad wait like Vlad said” As he returned the tea cup to the picnic.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt” Peter wasn’t sure what it was he had interrupted, perhaps it was something along the lines of a big hairy eastern European fellow hosting a tea party with all of his teddy bears that were inexplicably tied to the front of his vehicle.

  “No, no, no interrupt. Vlad serving tea to old friends. We go now” Just how friendly Vlad was with his ‘old friends’ was not something Peter cared to think about, the holes in various places indicated that Vlad was very friendly to say the least. “Did you have nice time in horrible place?”

  “Very serene, thank you”

  “Good, good. Engine on. We go”

  There was only one night left of the whirlwind tour, Vlad dropped Peter off at his hotel, they embraced a little too furtively for Peter’s liking and then departed on their separate ways to live their separate lives. After the experience Peter was sure that he wanted their companionship to follow separate paths for the remainder of their lives and then on into whatever afterlife Vlad believed in. When Peter showered that evening, the humble caterpillar left its new home within the bag and sought out a safer refuge. It darted around the room about as fast as you’d expect a caterpillar to go, first entering the rubbish receptacle, then the wardrobe until finally ending up in the suitcase. It nestled in the left shoe tucked at the bottom of the case. Why it chose the left shoe over the right is a philosophical, metaphysical, and every other kind of ‘ical’, debate that would take far too long to delve into. Suffice to say, the caterpillar was in the left shoe, tucked away quietly, awaiting to enact its grand plan.

  The pokey apartment that Peter called home was a welcome sight to return to after an epic adventure. The crazed sketches and plans of a madman (a.k.a. Peter, a.k.a. Carmichael) adorned the walls in haphazard fashion. A big poster of Chernobyl was opposite the front door, so as Peter entered with his small suitcase in tow, took a deep breath, satisfied that he would be a superhero soon. Unpacking is always a pain, pulling out heaps of laundry and putting all the useless trinkets and tat in drawers never to be seen again, its arduous to say the least. Meanwhile, the caterpillar could sense its surroundings rapidly changing as Peter unpacked, it debated whether or not to leave the safety of the shoe and determined that the best chance was to stay put until things d
ied down.

  Things did eventually die down. The suitcase was fully unpacked, the shoes now resting under Peter’s bed with the caterpillar still resting within. Before retiring to sleep, Peter used his Geiger counter to take a reading of his radiation levels. He was satisfied that he was adequately irradiated and so went to sleep to usher in the next day back to work. As Peter slept, the caterpillar removed itself from the shoe and crept up the bed post and onto Peter’s face. Thankfully Peter was a heavy sleeper and so didn’t feel the bug creeping over him. Manoeuvring around the face was a challenge for the caterpillar, it had to navigate past both the mouth and the nose which sent streams of hot air outwards, every now and then the mouth would open to form a deep pit that the caterpillar wasn’t sure it would return from. It was a treacherous journey, so the caterpillar aborted and headed for Peter’s neck instead.

  The neck ebbed and flowed gently with each breath but it wasn’t nearly as intense as the face movements and so the caterpillar sucked long and deep from Peter’s neck. It is possible that the caterpillar believed itself to be a vampire, it’s possible, but improbable considering the caterpillar probably had no encounters with vampires before and likely didn’t have a reference or the knowledge that vampires sucked blood from their victim’s necks. It’s also possible, and far more likely, that the caterpillar didn’t care about anything in particular as it was just a caterpillar.