Chapter 3 – Aspirin lids
So, things in our little brownstone in Brooklyn suddenly went from ya average single father and son relationship to former super powered Pa and aspiring super hero son in one evening. Sure I lost my best friends (for reasons I can’t explain). Lori split town and Huey socked me good, but hey, I ate sour cream and salami bagels on my own before and I’ll eat em alone again. It’s probably for the best with that ‘great responsibility with power ‘stick I’m planning on.
Pa started working for Uncle Marvin on an evening. Uncle Marv hadda small tailor shop down in Hell’s Kitchen and with Pa’s past skills in engineering and toy making, he was ideal help for Uncle Marv in putting together his ‘custom suits’ and the what nots. He hadda do his shifts at night for the ‘special clientele’ which worked perfect for me to begin my own plan. Training ta rid the streets of villainy.
First few nights was what you’d say a bust, onna account that I didn’t even make it out the door. First night there was a great show on the tube and the second night I fell asleep after over indulging in homemade lasagne with fresh baked sough dough bread. But night three, I made it outta the door and my destiny began.
The Suit fit like a glove. It hadda look of a dark green wet suit, but on the inside it was layered with cables and gears in a skeleton thingy ma jig. It was all in one and you slid in from the top. The helmet kinda popped on like a jar top of aspirin. Although the two ruby eye sockets looked onna outside like the view point, but from the inside it felt like looking into a computer screen, with all kinda dials and fancy wave lengths onna display .It really opened up ya peripheral vision.
I’d never actually tried moving in the Suit before. I just would stand there and feel awesome. When moving the inner skeleton it tightened and gripped around my muscles and was like wading in h2o. I finally got down the stairs of the brownstone and headed out the back door on night three. I stopped to bask out in the yard for a while feeling pretty good about myself when I was suddenly startled by a familiar voice.
“Vinnie what the hell are ya doing for Christs sake”
Cranberry sauce. It was Uncle Wilbur. “I understand making dresses that shoot lasers may not be ideal, but Marv has given you a chance at going straight”. Uncle Wilbur sounded kinda ticked off. I thought best to run with mistaken identity, I can’t have Pa finding out this early in the piece. “Ummpppr grrrr,” I replied for reasons I can’t explain other than the loss of bodily function control.
“What are ya, drunk Vinnie?” Retorted Uncle Wilbur. “Yrrruurrrr” (nailed it).
“Well get ya green ass inside before the Kimble’s or worse, ya son, sees you”. It was at this point moving around in a simulated h2o environment can become quite difficult to manoeuvre and, in short, I tumbled over. Had I mentioned previously that I was never great at fixing those dang lids back onna top of aspirin jars? Push, pop and twist all very tricky stuff. Well in my graceful tumble the helmet lid blew off and so did Uncle Wilber’s.
I’m not going to go into great detail of the colourful display of Uncle Wilbur vocabulary, but in a nut shell, he wasn’t impressed to see me inside the Suit. Once the colour had returned to his face and he was able to articulate without sounding like a taxi driver, he helped me inside and back up to the workshop an outta the Suit. I gingerly made it down ta the kitchen where Uncle Wilbur had helped himself to one a Pa’s beers and atta Uncle Wilbur’s request I began fixing us up a sour cream an salami bagel whilst I explained my actions tonight.
It was hard to explain to him. This guy had been always been there for me. He’d helped me take on the dang horse and been family. I only wanted Pa ta be proud of me and maybe to right some of the wrongs he and my uncles may have caused. Ya know, balance the cosmic scales and make the Patilio name great again. My gymnastics made me more agile than ya average joe. I’m determined, and if some guy can run around Harlem wearing a tiara and yellow blouse, heck a kid from Brooklyn can make a difference in a mechanically enhanced assisted dark green suit.
“If ya going to do this kid, we do it right, but it isn’t going to be easy. You’ve got to train harder than you ever have. We start training tomorrow night at my place. We keep this between us and if I say it’s over, it’s over. You walk away. But if you work hard enough, and I think you can do it … you get to wear the Suit.”
I don’t care what people think or read in the Bugle. My Uncle Wilbur doesn’t need stilts to be a bigger man.