(Except for Timmy)



Little 12-year-old Timmy Softburg lives in a world where everyone is a super-hero. Everyone that is, except for him. As he grew up, he noticed sadly that all the other kids had amazing super powers. Many could fly, bend steel and teleport, while others could write brilliant novels and direct groundbreaking motion pictures effortlessly.

But not little Timmy. He sat meekly in the bleachers while his classmates accomplished feats of greatness that would enshrine them all forever as gods. He skulked timidly as everyone else shared their awesome talents with each other on Facebook, garnering millions of followers and billions of likes.

One of his classmates, Hunter Powers, recently levitated back from Mount Everest, where he uphill skied all the way to the summit while creating a stained-glass cathedral window with one hand. Elizabeth Strong, who sits behind Timmy in math class, invented a faster-than-light space cruiser while doodling on a napkin. And Timmy’s own brother Kevin, won six marathons and a Nobel prize for literature by lunchtime.

“What’s wrong with me?” whimpered Timmy to his therapist. “Nothing,” his multi-millionaire therapist replied. “It’s just that everyone in the world is extraordinary. Except for you.”

Timmy walked through his neighborhood, looking for another ordinary person like him. But the teeming crowds were all costumed in glittering tights and capes. Their teeth were dazzling white, their cheekbones chiseled, their mane-like hair shimmering and blowing in the wind. He caught a bus to the next town (because he couldn’t fly), only to find more hordes of muscle-bound, hyper-confident, swaggering alpha personalities. He felt invisible, as they all high-fived and chest-bumped each other, bragging about their latest mega-achievements.

Timmy ran out of bus money. He wandered the streets, trying to find the way home. He noticed his shoe was untied. So he kneeled down to relace his sneaker. Just then, a Hummer full of drunk superheroes ran a stop sign. It braked violently, just missing little Timmy, and veered right in front of the passing Trump Presidential Motorcade. The column of sleek black SUV’s swerved, plunging through a guardrail. One by one, the entire motorcade plummeted a thousand feet down into a cauldron of liquid hot magma.

All of a sudden, poverty, climate change, ignorance, greed and racism vanished. All the superheroes stopped and gasped, completely awe-struck. Little Timmy smiled at them as he walked home. “My name's Timmy. I'm an ordinary kid with no super powers. And today, I saved the world.”


Anti News ©2019 Chris Hume