Well folks I hate to break it to you but being Superman sucks. Why exactly God chose to give all this mighty power to ME, still evades my mind, but I struggle through it. I try to...
I hate flying. Never liked it, never will. The first time I was on a jet, I threw up four times. Once across my moms lap and into her purse. She wasn't pleased. I didn't learn about my superpower till I was seven.
It was an accident, but I ended up levitating myself on top of our garage. That's when I learned I was, for lack of a better word, "special." My bother and I were playing "wall ball," when I through the ball so hard at the wall, it landed well above the target, and bounced up onto the roof, rolling down the tin sheets till it was stuck in the gutter. Frustrated, I playfully attempted to jump and reach the ball but quickly found myself floating gracefully through the air to the roof top.
Thirty years later, and I am till queasy even after the shortest flights, despite the regular dosage of pepto bismol. Will I eventually grow "the stomach" even to handle a short flight? Probably not. Its embarrasing and leaves me looking like a pansy. Remember I am sopposed to be Superman! I have no problem busting thieves and villans, but I would rather take a taxi to get there any day.
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