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When skid marks on his blue and red superhero costume are in desperate need of a deliberate encounter with Tide – the proven deep stain fighter – I take it to the local coin laundry. I deposit my buck, and watch the soap bubbles ride the tide of the water through the sailor’s window on the washing machine. I am one with the deep cleaner; I am one with the Tide.
I officially oversee Spider-Man cleaning needs.
I am the source of encouragement for Spider-Man. Take our bowling outings. I’ve set up this program via super-scientific studies that prove the positive effects of encouragement through bowling. He reaches for the six pound ball, I stop him in mid-grab with a “whoa there fella,” pat him on the back, and hand him the 40 pounder.
He can do it, I tell him, he can do it. The key is to be, yes, you’ve guessed it, one with the ball.
But I’d like to think that I’m more than just a superhero’s coach and his sole inspiration for fighting crime. You see, (tear) we’re friends too. Best of friends. And even this, for him, I have down to a science.
Scenerio: girl dumps him. Remedy: Haagan Das. And we’re close, so I know that after a hard day of work he’s not simply aching for chocolate – oh no, not this guy – he wants his super fudge crunch. And I deliver the goods.
Sure, we do fun things together too, it’s not just all hard work; we hang out. Oh God, you should see us on roller skates. I’m wearing my new orange cotton blend sweatpants looking hot because I’ve matched it with the black and white striped t-shirt. It’s scrunched up on one side, and I’m looking fresh.
That’s how I got the nickname “Pumpkin” and when we’re in full gear he cheers me on and tells me to let my “pumpkin power” rip shit. Damn that Spider-Man, he’s a kidder. I’d like to think that even without the orange sweatpants I’d still be able to let loose some of my magic.
People ask me, “M.J., why are you so lucky? Why did he pick you to befriend?” I have to just nod and tell them as sincerely as I can that it’s not them. Truly, you’re all wonderful people and, had I not been around, it would have had to be one of you. But I’m here and I’m fresh and and I’m sorry, but it’s me, (lip quiver). He’s picked me.
I help him into his crime-fighting suit-of course it’s one I just cleaned. It smells like waterfalls and it’s as soft as snow. He thanks me, and we perform our super-top-secret handshake, smiling. Us two, we’re all smiles. God it’s beautiful.
I’m there for him, and likewise he’s there for me. He tells me someday I can make it as a superhero. He tells me I’ve got what it takes. While he’s away fighting crime, leaping from those tall buildings, I look out the apartment window and feel proud to know such a kick-ass dude.
As for me and my superhero status, I’m getting there. When the weather’s nice outside I take the skateboard and go go go as fast as I can until I reach the obstacle I’ve set up on the middle of the pavement. Sometimes it’s hard, really hard – but I do it. I do it because I’ve got what it takes.
I’ve been bouncing a couple of superhero names off of Spider-Man and whatever I bring to the table he tells me he still likes “Orange Sista” the best. I’m a little uncomfortable advertising that, but he’s Spider-Man. He’s already got the job, and he kicks ass.
