By Bethy <firstname.lastname@example.org> and ShivaSaavik <email@example.com>
Submitted: September 2001
Summary: A look at Superman's daily life from a unique perspective.
I will not be defeated. I have survived teenage boys, John Travolta in *Grease*, and Prom nights. I will not let one tights-wearing, underpants-showing, flying man beat me!
He puts me through so much, though… Fire, rain, explosions — not to mention that infernal wind! Sheesh, you'd think he could manage to fly a *little* slower then that! What's his hurry? It's not like the fate of the world depends on how fast he gets there! Well, maybe it does. Still! There's only so much SuperGel can stand.
And the SuperGel is name only. I do not have super strength. I do not shoot eye beams. I do not fly. I hold hair in a position that is dictated by the person to whom the hair belongs. I am hairgel. Supergel, maximum hold guaranteed. But I am not super. It's just a name. 'Hair gel for those who do daily activities' was taken.
But he is Superman and since so much of his life is spent doing 'super' things, I suppose he would be drawn to the SuperGel. A liiiiittle warning might have been nice! 70 mile- per-hour wind velocity is *not* conducive to my capabilities.
I didn't even recognize him. He stood in front of the mirror with his red boots (which would shame a fire engine), bright blue tights (tights, can you believe it?), red underwear (yeah, right — what idiot in his right mind lets his underwear show? Especially *red* underwear. There are easier ways of getting a lady's attention without flashing passion- red briefs at her. Really.) and swirling cape. I just thought he never outgrew childhood tendencies. You know, a kid whose parents made him read the dictionary for fun. I thought something wasn't right in the head, but then, who asks me? All I do is hold hair.
I thought my job wouldn't last long. After all, the first thing he did after applying me was go jump out the window! Dressed as he was, though, I wasn't surprised. He was obviously seeking attention, and suicide definitely will get you that! Especially with a cape swirling behind…
Boy, was I in for the surprise of my life. We went down, sure, everything's hunky-dory. But then we came right back up. And fast! I wanted to protest — I wasn't made for this kind of abuse! I wasn't made for any kind of abuse! Naturally, any protests I considered went…well, out the window.
Instead, we flew. (Which people aren't supposed to do. More importantly, which I'm not supposed to do. Except in airplanes.) Fast. I was straining my limits, trying to keep his hair in place, but the wind almost blew me right off! Finally, we slowed down and I breathed a sigh of relief. I could relax again.
But no. No, instead, we went from the frying pan into the fire. A one-block blaze, to be more precise. Heat + SuperGel = a big no-no. A smelly, big no-no. Fortunately, he moved too fast for the fire to take affect, but still. Fire???? Well, he stopped the blaze, soaked in the praise and then decided to soak in the water.
Now, I know water will put a fire out, but he took it to extremes. He zoomed off to the Arctic and jumped right in. Fully clothed. In water. Water! Not exactly helpful to a gel's job — even 'SuperGel.' So what that there was an oil spill? So what that he had to save the marine life? Did he ever stop to think of me? Of course not! I don't even like fish, anyway! But dolphins are kind of nice…
And then he was done and in this building somewhere. He hopped in the bathroom for a quick change…and that's another thing. You put your clothes on and then apply the hairgel. Not the other way around! When he was done, he looked in the mirror and I cringed. His hair was a mess, all loose and hanging and… Eugh. He didn't even re- apply me! It was the lowest point of my career.
Until the next day with the explosion. And then next day stopping that asteroid. And the next, and the next…and let's not forget the instance where the crocodile bit his head. I haven't. But I bear it with the best of my ability. No one will ever accuse me of shirking from my duty. Even though I secretly long for the boy who used so much of me that his date's face got stuck in his hair. Instead, I face everything else. From fire to water to stuff I don't even recognize. Or want to. Or need to.
Sigh. It's not easy being me.
Author's note: Blame ShivaSaavik, not me. It was her idea. <g> (ShivaSaavik wants to know why she is the first with this idea. Especially since she doesn't watch L&C!)
Anyway, no, we were not on drugs. Or drunk. We hadn't eaten in a while, though…
Never mind, this is how we are normally. :D
Bethy (and ShivaSaavik)