The Super Pals

Have you ever slept through your alarm and had to skip breakfast? Have you ever wished for more protein in the morning than what bland oatmeal could provide? Have you ever been stranded in the woods, starving, with nothing but a raw egg?

If you answered “yes” to at least one of these questions, Lenny Livingston could have helped. You see, Lenny had a superpower.

…Well, it was less a superpower, and more a “specific issue resolver.”

Lenny Livingston could [insert drumroll here] fry an egg under any circumstances, provided he had a frying pan handy.

No, he couldn’t create fire to heat the pan. No, he didn’t have laser vision to cook the egg. And, no, he didn’t switch the uncooked egg for a fried one when you weren’t looking. He merely cracked the egg open, dropped it into the pan, and shook his fist at it threateningly. Moments later, the egg was so perfectly fried, Gordan Ramsay himself would call it “the most amazing” thing he’d ever eaten (before remarking the burnt toast that came with it was “a real shame”).

I imagine some of you might be asking questions about Lenny’s power’s limits. How about an omelet? What if you wanted sunny-side up? Could he do an ostrich egg?

Remember I called it a “specific issue resolver” a few paragraphs back? No omelets. No variations on preparation. Only chicken eggs. Lenny couldn’t even fry two eggs in succession. It was a once-per-day kind of power.

When Lenny had first discovered the power (shaking his fist at an uncooked egg in the pan – he’d forgotten to turn the burner on) he was amazed. He replicated the feat the following day, and the day after. Then he tried experimenting.

If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll have already concluded that his experiments were unsuccessful.

Some people would be happy with a superpower, even with such constraints. Lenny was not. He’d tasted greatness (here referring to both his minute ability and its delicious result) and he wanted more. If only he could grow his power, think of what he could accomplish! He’d open a breakfast restaurant, for starters. Then he’d expand it. After that, eradicating world hunger would be just over the horizon. But none of this was possible until his power grew from a specific to a general issue resolver.

Then, one day, after frying an egg more from frustration than because he was hungry, Lenny found a note in his pocket:

TOP SECRET! You are cordially invited to join The Super Pals @ 12 Chestnut Drive, 7pm tonight. Knock three times. Tell no one.

How the note had gotten into Lenny’s pocket was a mystery. He’d been home all day and hadn’t seen anyone. His pants were fresh out of the dryer. Clearly, whoever had put it there must have had some great superpower, like invisibility or super speed!

At 7pm, Lenny skipped all the way to the noted address (a modest rowhome within the city) and knocked upon the door. An elderly woman in a nightgown greeted him. Not exactly the guard he’d been expecting. “I’m here to see The Super Pals,” Lenny whispered.

“Eh?” the woman said. “Speak up, sonny.”

Lenny cleared his throat. “The Super Pals.”

“There’s a gas station down the street,” she said. “They have a commode. First stop on the trail. Restroom’s for customers only, though, so you’ll have to buy something.”

“Ma!” someone from within shouted. “Who is it?”

“Another pedestrian on the Pooper Trail, Steven. Never you mind. Go back to playing dragon dungeons with your friends.”

“I’m here to join up,” Lenny called inside. “The Super Pals.”

There was a thunderous stamping up the steps. Steven – a greasy, heavy-set fellow – appeared and pulled Lenny in. “Shh! What if someone heard you! Didn’t you read the note? Top secret!”

The woman groaned. “Fine. But wash your hands when you’re done. And don’t tell me you always do. We’ll both know it’s a lie.”

“We’re hungry, Ma,” said Steven.

“I’ll bring you some cookies, dear,” said the woman, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

Steven beckoned Lenny to follow, and led him into the basement. Four cheap lawn chairs were arranged around a collapsible brown card table (lacking cards). Two other people – a freckly, red-haired boy and a shifty-eyed woman wearing overlarge glasses – sat with their hands folded, regarding Lenny with suspicion.

“This is Jimmy,” Steven said, indicating the boy, then gestured to the woman. “And that’s Louise.”

Lenny shook their hands and introduced himself.

“Please, sit,” said Steven. He and Lenny took the two empty chairs. “Welcome to The Super Pals.”

“Wait ‘til you try one of Steve’s ma’s cookies,” Jimmy said. “They’re the whole reason I come to these meetings.”

“They are divine,” Louise agreed, squinting suspiciously at the newcomer.

“Can’t wait to try,” said Lenny. “And I’m happy to be here. Only, I hope there isn’t some mistake. My superpower isn’t exactly useful in fighting crime.”

“We don’t fight crime.” Louise’s shifty eyes shifted to Steven. “Did you change the note I gave you?”

Steven held his hands up defensively. “Snuck it into his pocket right away. If I edited it, he’d have seen me.”

“Sorry, I just assumed,” said Lenny. “You are all superheroes though, right?”

“We all have superpowers,” Steven said with a shrug.

“So… is this a school of some kind?” Lenny asked, daring to hope. “Maybe a training program?”

“We’re a support group,” said Louise. “For people with incredibly niche abilities. For instance, I can make a rose smell like a s’mores pop tart, but not the other way around.”

“Once a week, I can either add or subtract a freckle from my arm,” said Jimmy.

“And I can deliver messages to people’s pockets without them seeing,” Steven said proudly. “As long as they are written by someone else, and don’t have anything to do with government, military, or crime bosses.”

“That sounds like it could be useful,” Lenny said.

“Useful for a middle school student, maybe. Or if it was still the early 90s, before email and text messaging came to be.”

They all stared at Lenny expectantly. “Oh,” he said. “I can fry one egg per day, without a heat source.”

“Amazing!” said Jimmy. “That’s loads more useful than my ability!”

“And mine,” Louise agreed.

Lenny gave them half-a-smile. To say he was disappointed was selling his disappointment short. He was crushed. He’d really hoped to get on some kind of super squad; or at least be the cook for one. You know. Make real change in the world.

“Don’t look so glum,” Steven said.

“He’s allowed to feel his feelings,” Louise chided. She patted Lenny’s arm. “We’re here to support you in any way you need.”

“But you’re a group of superheroes,” Lenny said. “Shouldn’t you at least have a nemesis or something?”

“We’re not superheroes,” Louise said. “We prefer the term, ‘superfluously gifted.’”

“And there’re no villains in our story,” added Steven.

Jimmy raised his hand excitedly, as if begging for the teacher to call on him. “What about Rabbit Randall?”

“Rabbit Randall isn’t our nemesis,” Louise scoffed. “Even if he claims otherwise.”

“Who?” asked Lenny.

“Rabbit Randall.” Steven let out a long, defeated breath. “He’s my next-door neighbor. Has the ability to make rabbits scratch their ears.”

“It’s really cute,” said Jimmy.

“Super cute,” agreed Louise.

“We all know it’s cute!” Steven snapped. “Anyway. I invited him to our group. Very neighborly of me, I know. He was having a tougher time accepting his niche powers than we all did. Then, one day he called us all a bunch of…”

Louis gave him a sympathetic smile. “You can say it, Steve. That’s why we’re here.”

Steven took a shaky breath. “A bunch of losers.”

“And super-zeroes,” Jimmy grunted. “So original.”

“Then he went and started his own support group for people who wanted to increase their powers,” said Steven.

Lenny sat up a little straighter. “Is that possible?”

“Well, yeah, but at what cost?” Steven asked. “So, he can make a rabbit come sniff his finger now. So what?”

“What do you mean, ‘so what?’” Lenny laughed. “Don’t you want to deliver important secret messages, Steve? And Louise, what if you could make daisies smell like Funions? And Jimmy, what if you could…uh…”

“Change the color of my freckles to look diseased and get out of taking finals?” Jimmy asked.

Steven shot him a warning glare.

“What? Just trying to be helpful.”

“And I sure as heck want to be able to fry more than a single egg,” Lenny continued. “I want to cook two! Three! Make a western omelet for when I have people over for brunch.” He pumped his fist triumphantly. “I want to change the world!”

“You sound just like him,” Steven sighed.

“Don’t go down this road, Lenny,” said Louise. “Too much power leaves you wanting more. It’s a dark path.”

Lenny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. More power? Dark path? All he wanted was to do something useful. He didn’t want to be “superfluously gifted.” He wanted to be superbly gifted! It wasn’t much to ask. And these people weren’t offering it. They’d given up on themselves before even trying. They didn’t want to change the world; only to exist in it.

Steven began speaking – something along the lines of “being extraordinarily ordinary” and “maybe try adding a little old bay seasoning before you cook it” – when Lenny spotted the rabbit peering into the basement window. He locked eyes with it, and it hopped away.

“Look,” he said, cutting off Steven’s speech. “Thanks for the invite. Really. I just don’t think you can help me.”

“But you haven’t even had a cookie,” Jimmy said as Lenny made his way to the stairs.

“Let him go,” said Steven. “Cookie bribes are beneath us. We’ll be here when you’re ready to face your mediocrity, Lenny. Third Tuesday of every month. 7pm sharp.”

“I appreciate it,” Lenny said. He passed Steven’s mom at the top of the steps and took a couple cookies at her insistence, then let himself out the front door.

And there was the rabbit, sitting in the grass, scratching at its ear. So freakin’ cute! It sniffed the air and hopped into the arms of a man – hooded, and dressed all in black – who’d been kneeling behind a tree. The rabbit nuzzled against his ear, as if telling him a secret.

“Rabbit Randall?” Lenny asked.

“My associate tells me you’ve rejected The Super Pals’ weak offer.” He grinned wickedly. “Hand me one of Steven’s mom’s cookies, and we’ll find out just how many eggs you can scramble following the path of darkness.”

Lenny grinned back. He gave Randall a cookie, then took a bite of another. “Wow. Jimmy wasn’t kidding about these cookies.”

Rabbit Randall’s maniacal laughter filled the cul-de-sac.