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Writer
Join Date: Jan 2008
Location: South Africa
Gender: Female
Posts: 43
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Vincent's Big Day - 1 656 Words
Vincent slapped wildly at the screeching alarm hanging precariously close to the edge of a small wooden bookcase on which it stood. He did not reach the desired object. Instead Vincent plummeted five feet from top bunk to floor, crashing into the scale model of Mordor he had been laboring over for months. A small wail escaped his semi conscious self as a tear dropped onto a ferocious looking orc. Vincent cradled the pint sized beast as he sobbed over his terrible luck.
No, today is different, Vincent mused to himself.
And indeed it was a day of monstrous importance to the pimple scarred man that cowered in the shadow of his bunk bed. Today he would prove to the world his worth. With these thoughts fresh in his mind, Vincent was able to untangle himself from Mordor debris and space ship themed bedspread. With these thoughts Vincent was invincible!
Vincent placed the tiny fiend on a bookshelf as he waddled across to his wardrobe. An immeasurable amount of self consultation occurred before he finally began to dress. Pudgy hands moved passed the hand washed, steam dried and well ironed Darth Vader, Frodo and Harry Potter outfits. Small beady eyes inspected each item before taking it out and placing it on a small pile.
“Shirt?”
“Shirt?”
“Check!”
“Check!”
“Socks?”
“Socks?”
“Check!”
“Check!”
“Bra?”
“Bra?”
“Check!”
“Check!”
Vincent mumbled his self check out loud. His Ruby Macaw sat on her perch echoing his every word. She bobbed her head as she watched him perform his daily routine. First the shirt, long sleeves, green. Next came the Hoodie, sleeves ripped off and bright red. A Giant “S” had been printed in the center of this with a black marker. Vincent mumbled the lyrics of a long forgotten backstreet boys single as he pulled on pink jogging shorts over black tights. Finally he slipped his arms through the shoulder straps of a yellow bra. Vincent struggled with the buckle for only a few minutes. - He had practiced the art of bra removal many times in his youth in the hopes of wooing a willing lass.-
Vincent stared into the mirror and grinned at himself. The Macaw fumbled with this problem for a few moments. How could a 40 year old man dress like that and grin at himself? The bra only served to enhance his growing man boobs, yet this new addition to his outfit seemed to delight the over-weight man child second to none. She shook her head in perplexed defeat and screeched out in imitation of Vincent’s mother, “Too much TV! Caw! Too much TV!”
Vincent bounced down the stairs and seated his large behind on a wooden chair by the breakfast table. His mother grinned at him as she placed a funny face waffle on his Mickey Mouse placemat, “For my cute little schnookums!” she sing-songed as she pinched his cheeks. Vincent whined in an embarrassed tone, “Mooooom!” But secretly he enjoyed her affections. She stepped back and surveyed her son. A well manicured hand picked idly at the yellow strap across his shoulder. “Vincent,” she said in a soft controlled tone.
“Yes mom?”
“Why are you wearing a bra over your shirt?” She maintained a very calm voice. Her son had many “oddities” and after all these years, she knew it wasn’t wise to argue with him (most cases would end in Vincent locking himself in his fort for a month at a time) and so the grin remained.
Vincent looked up at her, his eyes showing the frustration of being questioned on such an obvious action, “Mooom, ALL superhero’s wear underwear on the outside.”
She sat down next to him and patted his arm lovingly, “You’re not a superhero sweetie.”
Vincent’s blood boiled. It rose into his cheeks and cast a menacing glare into his beady eyes. He whipped a green sleeve back and thrust his arm forward, “LOOK! Look there mother! I have the mark!”
She inspected his arm carefully. Right there, just below the wrist was something foreign. The skin had taken on a dark reddish sheen and seemed to be raised slightly. It wasn’t an intricate design. On the contrary, it was rather simple, depicting a badly drawn “V”. On further inspection, it was deduced that the mark was nothing more than a burn from an ironing incident. Rather than voice these thoughts out loud, she smiled sweetly as she stood, patted his thinning hair and said, “That’s nice dear”
Vincent clenched his fists; he glared down at the half eaten face smiling up at him. The voice that issued from his lips was cold, calculation, “You don’t believe me. You think your son a liar. Its true isn’t it, mother?”
She watched her son, but couldn’t respond. He was going to lock himself in the fort again and nothing she could say would prevent that. So instead, she watched as he rose, watched as he turned and stalked out of the home they shared. The door slammed and the sound reverberated along the walls. Only a sigh was given before she busied herself with daily tasks.
************
Vincent sat staring out of the grimy bus window. He didn’t notice when the freckle faced boy came to sit on the seat beside him. “Why are you dressed funny?” the juvenile with round inquisitive eyes asked.
Vincent jumped in fright, but soon composed himself as he noticed there was no threat. He grinned at the boy and then winked, “Can you keep a secret?”
The young boy nodded in earnest.
“What’s your name boy?”
“Benjamin Jones.”
“Well Benji, I’m Mr. Invincible, I’m a superhero!”
Benjamin rolled his eyes in disbelief, “Yeah right! What are your powers?”
Vincent squirmed uncomfortable, “Well, I um… I haven’t figured that out yet.”
The boy rolled his eyes again, “That’s what I thought. You’re a loooser” He made an “L” with his thumb and forefinger and in a taunting voice repeated, “Loser, loser, loser!”
“No, no!” Vincent dug hastily into a backpack he had retrieved from his fort; his hand came out holding a pack of cards. He waved these seductively in front of Benjamin, “Pokemon! It’ll make the bus trip go by faster.”
Benjamin rose from the seat, “Not just a loser; a boring loser.”
Vincent sat brooding over insolent youths as the bus suddenly grumbled to an unexpected halt. He looked up in mild interest. Without warning a large stone came flying through the window, covering him in shards of glass. Vincent cowered into the fetal position and whimpered. For a moment he forgot this was his big day, but as the realization returned, Vincent began to uncurl. Scenarios of his many dungeons and dragons evenings played around in his mind as he searched for a battle strategy. Vincent rose, slung his backpack across one shoulder and strode to the front of the buss.
A light saber flashed menacingly in front of the bus driver’s face as Vincent bellowed, “Open the doors!”
Not sure as to what materials the glowing stick was made of, the bus driver reasoned it would be wiser just to open the doors. He did not want to be hit over the head and discover that this was not a plastic imitation version but in fact the “real” thing. A man rushed in as Vincent tried to leave. They crashed down onto the steel floor in a crumple of flailing arms and legs. A few curses and violent kicks and punches later and the villain leapt free. Vincent lay in a crumpled heap cradling his manly bits.
The Villain pulled a knife from his belt and brandished it in the air. A commanding voice echoed through the bus, “Everybody will get to leave in one piece, if I have your complete co-operation. Now, what I want is simple. Starting from the front seats, I want you all to come forward, one at a time, and give me your valuables. Once I am satisfied, you may walk past me, and out of the doors. Lets start with you bus boy.”
The bus driver rose, handed over a wallet and watch and left. The rest of the bus occupants began to do the same as Vincent squirmed in pain. He fought through the pain, mustered all his energy and began to rise.
In one smooth motion he straightened out and flew at the villain, knocking and elderly woman square in the ribs. The senior citizen swung viciously with her walking stick, catching the crook in the elastic of Vincent’s tights. She pulled back with more force than a woman of her age should possess, ripping through the fabric. For a moment everything was frozen in time and then black and pink fluttered to the floor leaving Vincent exposed. He stood in stunned silence. The laughter that echoed through the bus was framed by the moaning wail of a siren.
***************
Indecent exposure? I’ve been arrested for indecent exposure?
Vincent sat with his head cradled in his hands, how did this happen?
A snickering echoed from a dark corner. The villain from earlier stepped out of the shadows. He looked Vincent up and down. “Superhero eh?” he taunted. A finger flicked Vincent on the back of his skull.
“Stop it!”
The villain flicked more violently as he laughed, “And what are you going to do about it, superhero?”
Vincent retrieved a pocket guide to world history from his jacket and idly flipped through the pages. He glanced toward the bars that made up the cell door and then he turned to the villain. In that cold, calculating voice his mother had heard earlier that day he said, “The way I see it, you have no escape and I do have a power. When I woke up this morning, I had no idea. It has plagued me this day, but finally I know. Oh yes, I have superpowers. I can bore you to death.”
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and one of my more random stories that pretty much came from nowhere... 
