SG: Sporkman #24 - A New Respect - (DCB 9/12)

[Greg Fishbone]

     Number Thirty-One jumped into the mall fountain and twirled
around an oversized statue of Spoonman spouting water from his mouth.

     "Little sis! What are you doing?" asked Number Twenty-Two.
"You're ruining your Old Navy wardrobe!"

     "What, these ugly things?" The tiny underling stomped up and
down, splashing water all over herself. "I told you I needed something
cute."

     "But-- you're navy blue all over like a little blueberry-themed
bakery mascot! You're absolutely adorable!"

     Number Thirty-One stood still and allowed the water to smooth out
enough to present her with a decent reflection. "Perhaps," she
admitted, "but I'm still not maximizing my potential."

     "Maybe another color?" Number Twenty-Two suggested.

     "Mmmmmmaybe."

     "Well then, you're in luck! This mall has an Old Burgundy, an Old
Teal, and an Old Sunshine Yellow!"

     "Hooray!" Number Thirty-One threw her navy beret into the air in
a manner so cute that all the bystanders stopped running to safety,
pressed their hands together, and let out a chorus of
"Awwwwwwwwwwwww!"


*************************************************************
**               The Sporkarific Sporkman
**             Featuring the Preteen Patrol
**              Episode #24: A New Respect
**                  By Greg R. Fishbone
**
**              Dillweed City Blues #9 of 12
**
** Mickey Dunne, a former child superhero, has reinvented
** himself as Sporkman, savior of the Supersonic Airship
** Unsplodable. Can he save the future by confronting the past?
*************************************************************


     Although Martini remained tight-lipped, Mickey soon got
directions to the Spoonside Galleria from a helpful pedestrian. The
mall was a half-mile away but the Spoonmoblie and patrol car
collision, along with the partial demolition of a nearby office
building, had brought traffic in that part of downtown to a
standstill. "We'll have to go on foot," said Mickey which, because
their vehicle had been crushed into a metal pancake, probably could
have gone without saying.

     "Forget it, rookie," said Martini. "That mall isn't part of our beat."

     "I don't know what beat you're on, Martini, but the one I signed
up for involves pitching in wherever I'm needed."

     "No, it doesn't." The older offer clamped a hand on Mickey's
shoulder. "I know what you think of me. That I'm lazy and useless,
right?"

     Mickey met the other man's steely gaze. "I never said that."

     "You don't have to say it. I was once a hotshot rookie myself,
back in the day, and I was constantly embarrassed by my worthless
piece of crap of a partner who wouldn't lift a finger for nobody. That
was before I got beaten down by the years until now, I've become just
like him. All good cops in this city get beaten down like that, turned
into mediocre cops, because mediocre cops with their heads down are
the only ones who make it to retirement."

     "I wouldn't call you mediocre," said Mickey.

     "Don't flatter me, kid."

     "I wasn't. Mediocrity requires a basic level of competence that I
haven't seen in you yet."

     Martini growled. "Listen up, rookie. I'm trying to help you out
here, giving you the benefit of my experience. Do you know how rare it
is for a cop in this city to keep his edge over an entire career? Of
all the officers I know, only the Captain is still as sharp and
determined as he was on the day we graduated the academy together.
Good old Captain Philip Dunne--putting in the long hours, charging
toward every fight, collaring every crook he can find, and still not
making a bigger dent in the crime rate than slackers like me. It must
drive him out of his mind!"

     Mickey clenched his fists at the way Martini was talking about
his father. "What's your point, Martini?"

     The veteran sighed. "All I'm saying is, as much as you might
respect and admire your father, it'd be better for you to be more like
me. When that supergirl was here, Spoonstryke, I saw the way you
looked at her."

     Mickey's eyes narrowed to slits of laser intensity. "The way I
looked at her?"

     "Yeah, like she was just an ordinary person. Like she was your
equal. Like you could go toe-to-toe with her and come out of it
without a scratch."

     Mickey ran a finger over the scar on his forehead. "Maybe not
without a scratch."

     "Yeah, well, whatever. You get that from your father. He once
even dared to haul Spoonman himself into jail for unpaid parking
tickets--but the rest of us know that superguys have their battles and
we have ours. That's what Directive 37 is all about, which is why the
Fraternal Order put their support behind it. Sure, your dad wasn't
happy, but he was vastly outvoted by guys like me."

     "I'm going to the mall," Mickey stated.

     "Then go," said Martini with a dismissive wave of his hands. "I
can't be responsible for you anymore. And if you get grieved, I'm not
sticking up for you at the inquest." As Mickey started off at a jog,
Martini called after him, "You're just like your father!"

     Mickey's lip twitched into a smile.

* * *

     "This way!" Ultimate Trapper Keeper Keeper announced, leading his
team of preteens through the West Wing of the Spoonside Galleria. He
rode his Trapper Keeper like a wakeboard, surfing invisible waves from
one side of the colonnade to the other, dodging artifacts from the
heroic career of the Great and Mighty Spoonman. Silver Shopper kept
pace with him, astride a gleaming silver shopping cart that looked
like an extension of her gleaming silver body, while Bedazzler lagged
far behind.

     "Wait...up...guys..." puffed the jewel-encrusted boy. Every step
he took set a cascade of colored LEDs pulsing all over his costume,
which made him extremely difficult to look at.

     Silver Shopper's cart suddenly screeched to a halt in front of a
jewelry store.

     Keeper banked his Trapper Keeper around to join her. "Did you
find the supervillains?"

     "Better." She pointed into the store. "There's a 20%-off sale on earrings!"

     "You...don't have...pierced...ears..." gasped Bedazzler, taking
the opportunity to finally catch up with his teammates.

     "She could ask her parents for permission," Keeper suggested.

     Shopper frowned. "My parents were purchased by Konsumor, along
with the rest of the people on my home world and the entire planet
itself. Only my service as Konsumor's herald allows my people to
afford the temporary lease-back of our capital city."

     "Ah right," said Keeper. "So I guess that means no earrings for you!"

     "Gaa-- Gaa-- Gaaaaa--"

     Keeper and Shopper looked over at Bedazzler, who was still out of
breath and desperately wheezing to get their attention. Following
Bedazzler's urgently-pointed finger upward, they saw a woman with a
leather costume and long red hair lowering herself by a steel cable
from one of the skylights.

     "The supervillain?" Shopper guessed.

     "Either that or a fellow hero we're destined to battle due to our
mutual misunderstanding before joining forces with her to subdue the
real menace," Keeper answered.

     "Sounds...good enough...to me..." said Bedazzler, removing his
bedazzling gun from its holster.


KIDS IN DILLWEED CITY ARE ALLOWED TO CARRY BEDAZZLING GUNS?

IS THIS REALLY WHAT THE FOUNDING FATHERS HAD IN MIND WHEN THEY WROTE
THE SECOND BEDAZZLING AMENDMENT TO THE BEDAZZLING CONSTITUTION?

WILL BEDAZZLING GUN CONTROL ADVOCATES BE ABLE TO CLOSE THIS BEDAZZLING LOOPHOLE?

Find out on the next bedazzling episode of "The Sporkarific Sporkman
featuring the Preteen Patrol", only on SUPERGUY!


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

[1] That little twist of a smile on Mickey's face was the main purpose
of this entire 12-episode arc. He'd never have had that reaction
before seeing the world through police-issue sunglasses. Just thought
I'd point that out in case anybody missed it.

[2] The teaser questions were written before the recent death of
Charlton Heston, one of our nation's most high-profile gun advocates.
During his final years he made detailed pronouncements about his
funeral arrangements--that they should be tasteful, respectful, and
include the forcible removal of a firearm from his cold, dead hands.
The question is, do you feel more or less safe knowing that Heston is
no longer roving the streets with a Revolutionary War-era musket
raised over his head?

[3] I've never used a bedazzling device.

-- 
Greg R. Fishbone - http://gfishbone.com
* Author: THE PENGUINS OF DOOM - http://septinanash.com
* President: Class of 2k7 - http://classof2k7.com
* ARA: New England SCBWI - http://nescbwi.org