Big Little Feelings

“No.” The little boy stamped his foot and put his hands on his hips. He was barely three years old, yet had the adamant expression of a fifty-something.

“Come on, Arty.” The man sitting on the sofa was as disheveled as a cardboard box that had been left outside for weeks, attempting to endure the onslaught of wet-dry-wet-dry.

“Nooooo.” Arty grabbed a stegosaurus toy and banged it against the coffee table, growling for it as the plastic beast searched for food amongst the piles of unopened letters and random puzzle pieces that had found their new semi-permanent home on the only available surface in the house.

The doorbell rang. The sad old tune chimed through the walls, equally as tired and strained as the exhausted fellow on the sofa. The man pressed his hands against his knees, and heaved a sigh as he rose and made his way towards the hallway. He looked back at his child, who was still banging his toy against the wooden table and making over-the-top eating noises for his plated toy. “Five minutes, Arty. Then we have to go.”

“No.”

The front door creaked open and the bright light from outside blinded the man. His eyes squinted, adjusting to the sun disturbing the inside of his dark house.

“Delivery for…” the driver, wearing light brown shorts and matching button up shirt, turned the package in his hands, searching for an address. The package froze as he read the label. “Ohmigods,” his words ran together in excitement, “are you…?”

“Yes.” The owner of the house looked unimpressed.

“But shouldn’t you be…?”

“Yes. I’m working on it.”

“Can I get a picture?”

Arty’s dad failed to hide the lack of enthusiasm, but pushed the door open more to allow the delivery driver to turn and lift his phone for a selfie.

“I’ll just get a couple,” the driver tapped the white button on his phone screen, as it blinked memories into its picture folder, “the guys won’t believe this.” He turned and thrust the package into the man’s hands and hot footed it back to his truck that was purring out exhaust fumes at the end of the front yard.

The man with the box in his hands looked at the label.

Mr. Energy. 642 Spure Eroh Drive.

As the door closed, and without looking, Mr. Energy rolled the package out of his hand and it plonked upon a pile of more unopened boxes, eating up space behind the door.

“Arty. Come on bud. Daddy has to go work now.”

“No. Arty stay.” The boy tapped his chest as his dad walked back into the living room.

The man had an old bathrobe that had seen better days, and tartan pyjama pants with a hole in the knee.

“Bub. You can’t stay. You’re too young.” Mr. Energy sat back on the sofa and reached for the small remote laying in a fold of the cushions, resting against a car with shark teeth emerging from the plastic hood. He tapped the red standby button.

…dozens are injured and the giant robot still rampages the city. Some say it’s the evil Laysor controlling the contraption…

The TV flashed up shaky footage of a massive long limbed monster firing blasts of red into buildings and cars. People were screaming and calling for help.

Mr. Energy laid his face in his hands, mumbling through his palms “Arty. We really have to go now.”

The young boy stood up and stamped his right foot. It cracked a hole in the floor.

“Arty. Remember we don’t use our powers in the house.”

“I want my Mama.”

“She’s on vacation right now, bud. We have to go to Daddy’s work right now.”

The toddler threw his stegosaurus at the kitchen. It blasted a hole in the bottom compartment of the refrigerator, spilling bags of frozen peas out onto the hardwood floor.

Mr. Energy stood and threw off his robe, revealing an 80s band tshirt with ROCK in huge silver letters. 

“I haven’t got time for this.” He scooped up the little boy and made his way to the back door.

Arty screamed. Mr. Energy winced at the noise piercing his ears and vibrating through his skull. Out in the back yard, were holes and craters of various depths. Each had its own story for how it came to be. Mr. Energy, with a three year old tantrum kicking under his arm, crouched and leapt into the air, whooshing into the sky with his unhappy toddler. 

***

He landed with a crash as the tarmac exploded under his feet, raining rubble outwards towards onlookers. Arty was screaming louder than before, drawing awkward stares from the crowd of people hiding from the monstrous metallic creature ahead.

Mr. Energy put Arty down, his scream echoed between the buildings and scared the glass in the windows above. Folks looked at the man in the blacktop crater and whispered to one another. Mr. Energy held up his hands, “Oh no. No no. If I was going to take a child, don’t you think I’d pick someone quieter.”

Relief rinsed the concern from the crowd, and Mr. Energy looked at his sobbing son. “Daddy will be right back. Stay here. Okay?”

The boy stopped crying and scrunched his face into a grumpy pout. His dad locked eyes with a woman in the crowd and mouthed watch him. She nodded a concerned agreement. 

Racing towards the huge robot, Mr. Energy launched forwards, dodging red blasts and showers of concrete as the robot fired heat and flame towards the flying man. Metal chimed like a dull gong as he landed on a flat part, in front of a transparent window. Inside, a man with stringy red hair and thick glasses laughed maniacally. “Colin. Where have you been? I’ve practically destroyed this city.”

“Tammy is still on holiday. I’m not cut out for single parenting.” Mr. Energy’s fist punched a hole into the chassis.

“Ah. I wondered where Lady Jet was. I didn’t expect you to turn up alone.” A long robotic arm flashed past Colin’s face, missing him by an inch.

“I’m not alone. My boy is down there.” Mr. Energy backflipped up, away from another metal tentacle attack.

“You brought… what is he called?”

“Stomp. At the moment. We’re still working out his S.H. name.” A large steel claw grabbed the man hovering in front of the robot, squeezing tight.

“Stomp? Well that’s…”

A phone rang - a shrill call that interrupted the crashing machine and the screaming people far below. Colin reached awkwardly into his pocket and with his elbow pinned to his hip, held the phone out so he could read the name.

Tammy.

“Oh gods. I’ve got to take this,” he tapped the green speaker button, “Tammy? Love, I’m a bit busy…”

“Great news Col, I’m coming home. I just missed my boys. I’ll be back in about an hour.” The phone practically shouted the information.

“Oh. Oh great. Yeah. Um… I’ll see you in a bit then. Love you.”

“Love you. How’s Arty?”

“Busy love. He’s fine. Bye. Bye.”

The phone shut down. Mr. Energy glanced at Laysor, then to his boy in the distance, sitting quietly in the round crater.

“Now I can finally end this, Mr. Ener…”

“Wait!” Colin called out, “give me a moment.”

His thumb tapped a message on his phone.

Mom.

Tammy coming back.

House disaster.

Need help.

Less than an hour.

Col. 

“Mr. Energy. Can we do this?” The impatient straggly hair man called through the glass cockpit of his silver monster.

“Sorry, Lays. It’s been a long week.” The man trapped inside the clasping prison strained and stretched. Screws and bolts pinged outward as Mr. Energy flexed his body outward, shattering the steel that surrounded him. Another claw came hurtling towards him, colliding with his fist and shattering on impact. “What do you want, Laysor?” Mr. Energy flew out of harms way and floated above the robot.

“I want all the money in the cit…”

Colin’s phone bleeped a message reply.

Sorry love. Can’t help. Getting my nails done.

See you next weekend.

Mom.

XOXO

Colin pressed his face into his hands, resting his eyebrows on his palms, and scrunched his messy hair between his curled fingers. Air forced through his pursed lips. 

“What’s the matter, Mr. Energy? Family life too much for a superhero?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He leaned forwards and dived towards the machine, his dark tshirt rippled in the breeze. A large robot arm swiped at the diving fly, knocking him cartwheeling through the air. He landed on his back, right by the dent in the road where he arrived not too long ago. More black debris landed and tapped a tiny applause as it trickled onto the hard surface.

“Where… where’s the boy?” He stood, searching around for Arty.

The woman in the crowd pointed towards the robot, still breaking buildings and throwing vehicles around.

“Oh shi—“ Colin pushed up and headed towards Laysor, speeding through the air towards the cockpit of the heavy creature.

“Stomp,” yelled Arty, as the roof of the cockpit crumpled inwards. “Stomp. Stomp.”

The robot swayed, and its arms dropped with a booming crash against the world below. The body of the beast followed, and orange and blue sparks fizzed and sprayed out from the pitiful monster, now laying crumpled on the ground, with a three-year-old standing on top.

“He…lp…me?” An arm reached out from a gap between twisted metal and shattered Perspex, before collapsing in an unconscious drape over the edge of what was once a well built screen. 

“Sorry Laysor. You’ll be okay. But we’ve got to get going.”

“No!” Shouted Arty, his hands back on his hips.

“Mama will be home soon. Don’t you want to see her?”

The boy stamped his foot again, crushing more metal beneath him. The hand stretched a reflex and a muffled voice cried “ow!” Arty dropped to a sit and pouted. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” echoed the voice from inside the crushed cockpit. Arty wailed more defiance.

“Oh come on! I haven’t got time for this,” said the very tired man.