So Says The Mouse In My Hair

In Which Pablo Solidifies His Alter Ego

"Yo," Lucy said. Lucy loved to begin conversations with yo. She figured it was genetic, because her parents had told her that it was the first word she ever said. "Sup?"

"I need a suit," Pablo replied. "Black with a purple stripe down the side."

"Hot date, huh?"

"And I need it to be spandex."

"Spandex? This is serious, dude. Do I even want to know?"

"I have been forced into battle against the most stupendous force of evil known the entire universe. It is a matter of life and death, good versus evil, David against Goliath, celebrities against the paparazzi, Coke versus Pepsi-"

"Right. I get it. So you’re doing the superhero thing."

He nodded, his expression solemn.

"All this time, I’ve been the personal assistant of a superhero? This is big. This is like hair dying big. A superhero’s assistant should have really cool hair. I’ll find a nice purple to match your suit. But I’m forgetting something. What is it?"

The car was silent for a minute while she thought. Pablo’s face maintained its stony façade.

"Ha! I know what it is. Don’t superheroes need superpowers?"

"You would not believe me if I showed you, but I have been blessed by the gods with an unusual ability to doctor a photograph."

"No wonder I’ve always been strangely attracted to you all this time. I just figured I’ve been trying to get ahead. But it’s really your heroic magnetism that I find so sexy. What are you doing this weekend?"

"This weekend may not see the light of existence if all goes ill today. Why don’t we concentrate on that suit right now?"

Oh, sure. Of course, I mean duh! But Ilike after that…"

"We will talk of that in time."

The truth is that Pablo had been meaning to ask Lucy out for two months now. But whenever the opportunity came within one mile of him, he felt queasy and his nose started running. Asking nice girls out on dates just wasn’t his forte. So since he didn’t keep any tissues in his car (a huge metaphysical error, but we won’t go there), he really didn’t want to get started.

"So that suit?" he asked, scratching at his nose.

"Right, It shouldn’t take long, I’m a whiz with the sewing machine. Heck, maybe I should make me a cool outfit so that I can be Super Sewing Girl. Dude, that would rock. Call me that from now on, right?"

"I’ll see what I can do. Ok, Super Sewing Girl, go forth and find me that which my body has been craving my entire life, the black body glove with the purple stripe on the side."

"You got it… ummm… Pablo. Hey, that’s not going to work for your superhero name. Got anything better?"

"Go forth, and make haste, we have not many fractions of fractions of moons to bring about the salvation of this, our planet. Whence you return, I shalt give you my name."

You may or may not have noticed dear reader, that since Pablo’s run in with Mr. Sam, his countenance has changed. His words have become cryptic, and his muscles have grown somber. If you should wonder at this transformation, it can be explained as such: to each superhero, his own. It was Pablo’s way to react to such grave news as the demolishing of those quarters in which he had spent so many contented hours with the gravity that he felt it deserved.

And so It was with all due seriousness that he pondered the name to give his alternate identity. Fortunately (at least for his house) there was no need to think on this too long. He would call himself-

The light bulb went on over his head again. This of course meant that Lucy—excuse me—Super Sewing Girl had returned. Only now she wore a purple spandex suit with a black trim and her hair was purple. She tossed a handful of black fabric at him.

"There you go. Need a phone booth or something?" She asked.

Pablo looked at his watch. "It hasn’t even been two minutes. Do I even want to know?"

"I had to settle for a wig. The dye wasn’t going to happen." As if that was supposed to explain something. "So anyway, about that name thing…"

"I’m thinking, The Negative. You know, a pun on the whole photograph thing."

"The Negative? That sort of works. Sort of. It’s not going to win you any awards at Marvel or anything."

"Number one, way short notice," He snapped. Mr. Serious had pretty much vanished. Don’t ask. "We’re up against a giant diabolical clock here. Number two, me and names? Not the best of friends. Why do you think I don’t have a dog? I couldn’t think of a name. Number three, I’m not trying to win awards. I want to save my house."

So Pablo was not so good with teasing. Hey, nobody’s perfect.

"Right. Check. You’re The Negative. Maybe we can rework that all later. If we get the chance and everything. But right now, you need to change. And then you have that thing you need to be working on. And I’m your personal assistant, so I’m just going to…"

"Fix my computer? It froze on me this morning. I think it was connected to this whole Sam mess that I’ve gotten into, but it’s hard to tell. You’re good with supernaturally indisposed technological equipment, right? I thought so. How nice. That means we’re rolling."

Now since I know that the time table on all this is important to you readers, you should know that at this moment, Pablo has one hour and forty minutes to save his house from the utter indignity of being turned into one of Sam’s Supercenters.

At one hour and twenty five minutes, The Negative, now in full The Negative regalia, and Super Sewing Girl are pacing Pablo’s study, back and forth in front of his de-chilled computer, deep in thought and conversation.

The Negative: "What we need is a picture. If the world can see photographic evidence that Sam really is worse than George Steinbrenner they will tear down his buildings, and send him back to that pit of Hell where… Where…"

Super Sewing Girl: "You need a mask. Sure, an outfit is a start, but you have to accessorize. Thing is, do you want a full face mask, or just one of those ones that covers some of it, like the Phantom of the Opera has..."

The Negative: "Maybe if I can link him to something that is universally acknowledged to be disgusting and evil and worthy of actual hate. What have we got like that? Say he’s incestuous? He’s buddy buddy with Osama? He invented the filibuster? No, I need something really good…"

Super Sewing Girl: "And Super Sewing Girl seems pretty limited. I think I should get a more encompassing name, like Rockette Woman, or Lady Dude. Yeah, Lady Dude! With the exclamation point as part of my name. That’s it, I’m Lady Dude! from now on, and I can swim like an otter and fly like a hawk, and dig like a vole, wow, I’m totally awesome!"

The Negative: "What was that you said?

Lady Dude!: I’ve got a new name. It’s-"

The Negative: "Vole? You said something about a vole? You are totally awesome!"

And with that, the Negative made a mad dash for his computer screen, and the gems contained within it awaiting his nimble mouse. This was going to be good.

To be continued…

Once more I must apogize for dragging this on so, but there comes a limit to how long one's blog ought to be, and I keep going past it. A sad state of affairs, I know. We'll see.

posted by Sarah Eliza @ 6:18 PM