Superhero Free Jazz

I am going to do a series of interconnected superhero short stories in this thread. They will not be your traditional take on superhero stories. I am just going to be doing my own thing for fun. Free jazz style. I am just gonna go in with a name of a superhero and wing it from there. None of the stories will be very long. I will just be writing them and then posting them immediately after I am done.

This whole experiment is just me taking a break from my longer fantasy story tales of nehovia escape from apotheosis. Which is on part 4 chapter 20 now. The prologue and first two chapters of part 1 are linked in my sig. I will be posting the last three chapters of part 1 soon. I will not be posting part 2, 3, or 4. Not that anyone cares lol.

Well I hope some of you enjoy these superhero stories. Thank you for reading in advance.

GO BOOM
________________

Go..Go..Go..BOOM..Says the dynamite
The little voice inside that says I’m right
Whispering in my ear that I am special
Residing in my soul a next level devil

I am on a train with my head phones on. The world is drowned out. The beats of the heart of a poet, are blazing in my ears. I feel the rhythm in my bones. Just like the lyrics. I feel the music enter my soul and carve itself a home. The more I listen. The more I feel one with the artist. One with the world. One with the universe. One with myself. Which is not an easy thing to accomplish. Since I hate myself. Everyday I look at myself in the mirror and loath the man I see. He is skinny and weak. He is lonely and pathetic. He is a coward. He is afraid of everything he can not control. He is everything I hate in this world. He is me. I am him. Two peas in a pod of despair. But when the music plays. I am at peace.

A brown chihuahua runs by my feet and brings me out of my musically induced religious experience. The world crashes back in on me. The little rat dog yaps, yaps, yaps, as it runs down the aisle of the train. No one cares or even seems to notice. Why would they. Three seats down a homeless guy has his hands in his pants. A young Hispanic mother across from me has four kids screaming and yelling at each other. She does nothing but stare at the wall with a blank expression. I can see the emptiness in her eyes. The soul crushing emptiness of a life that has taken a wrong turn. At one end of the aisle. The end that the chihuahua came from. Three teens are laughing about sucker punching some guy in a super market. Lamenting the fact that they did not record the act with their phone. So they could put it on Facebook and get likes.

I am not surprised. That no one seemed to notice a dog running down the aisle. The people around me are obviously caught up in their fantastic lives. The teens might have noticed if the dog updated his status, while running down the aisle. The young mother is trying to escape her kids. Everything blends into the background for her. The homeless guy is having too much fun. They are all living in their own reality bubble. Since no cameras are recording the dog. It is not real to anyone but me. I lean forward in my seat and look down the aisle towards the opposite direction of the teenagers. The direction that the dog ran passed my feet towards. The dog is just sitting patiently looking up at the door that leads to the next car. The dog notices me staring because it looks back at me. The dogs brows furrow in what seems like deep thought. Then the dog does something that surprises me. It winks at me with one eye. Then goes back to looking at the door to the next car.

The dog stays like that for ten minutes and three stops. After the third stop. The dog seems to bark into its right paw. The door to the other car opens. Someone steps through, picks up the dog, turns around, and walks back into the other car. I notice the dog being picked up. But for the life of me I can not describe the man who picked the dog up. The memory of the man is confusing. Its as if the universe used Photoshop to blur everything but the dog and the mans hands. Hands that had rings on every finger including the thumbs. I can not ponder the man for long. One of the young mothers four kids, runs at me, and kicks me in the knee. The mother yells at the kid in Spanish. But does not even say sorry to me. She just looks me in the eyes and shrugs her shoulders. As if to say, welcome to my world.

The teenagers use their phones to record the kid kicking me. Then laugh and laugh as they watch the video on their phones. Its as if they can only understand the world. When it is shown through a small little screen. If I was braver, I would say something. To the mother and the teenagers. Instead I ignore them all and look at the homeless guy. Who is now passed out. In a way I envy him. He does not care what the world thinks. He does his thing with his hand in his pants. Then he sleeps. He is primal. He is the savage beast that lies in wait at the center of us all. Only caring about his immediate needs. Not having to dance the dance of civilization. He lives with no mask on. While the rest of us cower in fear behind a multitude of masks. Afraid to show the world the truth that is the real us. What did God tell Moses his name was. I am. That is the name of every single one of us when our masks are off. I am.

At the next stop. The young mother and her four burdens get off. At the stop after that. The teenagers and their interconnected window worlds get off. Now it is only the homeless man and I. The homeless man and I. A new sitcom coming this fall to Fox. A quirky but shy twenty something and a drunk but misunderstood baby boomer. Traveling the CITY, there is really only one, a cancer replicating across the globe, by train solving crimes. Its the Odd Couple, meets Scooby Doo, meets anything on HBO. I smell an Emmy and pee. Since I am on a train.

I look up and at the homeless man. He is still passed out. I study his face. I count his dirt spots and wrinkles. When I get to the number twenty three. His eyes pop open. They are all white. He shakes his head and begins to look towards me. Before our eyes meet. The train enters a tunnel and it goes dark. I try to listen for footsteps. All I hear is the thwump, thwump, and electric fizz of the train as it wars with the tracks. If the homeless man gets up and freaks out in a drug fueled rage. I want to be ready. I do not need some homeless guy giving me HIV. By trying to eat my face off. Because he is hopped up on bath salts. Do bath salts give you all white eyes.

Let there be light. The train shoots out of the tunnel. The homeless man is standing right in front of me. He is looking down at me with ice hot hate in his all white eyes. His shadow dances and his soul sings. He spits in my face and puts a foot in my groin. In this position he reminds me of an evil Captain Morgan.

Evil Captain Morgan then puts a hand on my chest and says, “Hallelujah..Hallelujah..The day of judgment has arrived. The destroyer of worlds walks amongst us. You have become death, son of forever. I witness your birth and I weep in joy. The malformed children who dosey doe on my black heart welcome you. To this place in this time..Hallelujah..Hallelujah.”

Evil Captain Morgan then falls backwards and begins to shake. Blood starts pouring from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. His chest explodes outwards and ants begin to crawl out of the cavity. As the ants pour out, the homeless man sings, “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching one by one. The little one stops to bite my thumb. And they all go marching down... to the ground. To get out of the blood, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

On the last BOOM! The world explodes outwards. My brain blinks. I feel every atom in my body contract, then expand. I become one with it all. I am the young Hispanic mother. I am the teenagers. I am evil Captain Morgan. I am God. I am Lucifer. I am everything. I am nothing. I feel myself come undone. I feel my body being destroyed. I feel the train going with me. I GO BOOM.

******************************************************

“How long do you think until he reassembles?,” says the Blur.

“You never can tell with these abstract avatars. It could be a day. It could be a month. It could be a year. It could be never. It all depends on his willpower. He has to rebuild himself molecule by molecule,” says the chihuahua.

“We have to have someone here around the clock. Maybe Mr. L or Super Cool Awesome Girl. When he reappears. We have to get to him first. If we don't... Well, you know better than I boss. The other team worships these world killer level guys. He took out three train cars when he exploded this time. Next time it could be a city. A continent. The whole world.” says the Blur.

“It is what it is. You know the recruitment speech. I gave it to you myself. Time is a river and all that jazz. The war has happened and it will happen again,” says the chihuahua.

THE END

I hope this continues as you have gotten me hooked. Nice flow. I'm kind of surprised no one else has commented.

Honestly I usually don't read the posts in this forum. For some reason today, I did, and was pleasantly rewarded! We at ATS have been blessed to have such a diverse talent pool. Researchers, Debaters, Meteorologists, Scientists, Minsa level Minds, A$kholes, Idiots, Musicians, Artists, Writers, and any other title we can think of to learn from. Any field you seek knowledge in can be found here along with every type of personality there is. I'm thankful I found you guys!

I dig your style! I get bored with reading quickly and did not at all when reading your story. In fact I was disappointed to reach the end... Keep 'em coming! You are a talented writer my friend. Use it and you will go far... The "It" people talk about... You got "IT"! "I smell an Emmy, and pee" great stuff!

originally posted by: onehuman
I hope this continues as you have gotten me hooked. Nice flow. I'm kind of surprised no one else has commented.

Thank you. It will continue with more interconnected short origin tales of other superheroes. Then at the end I will write something with them all in it.

originally posted by: wastedown

I dig your style! I get bored with reading quickly and did not at all when reading your story. In fact I was disappointed to reach the end... Keep 'em coming! You are a talented writer my friend. Use it and you will go far... The "It" people talk about... You got "IT"! "I smell an Emmy, and pee" great stuff!

Thank you very much. Reading things like this is what keeps me writing. I have people all around me tell me I am a good writer. I just do not always see it. I have not been writing long and I am extremely critical of myself and just view all my work as average. I wish I started doing this when I was younger.

a reply to: karmicecstasy

Great Job here Karmic!! ( I set out an air freshener to cover the pee smell......)
Keep em coming!! And You are WAY Beyond Average in Writing My Friend!!!
Looking forward to the next in the Free-Jazz Stories!!! Syx.

THE BLUR

As soon as night falls and the moon comes up. The fat inbred retard in the muumuu is going to eat me. I can see him in the corner slobbering all over himself. Licking his fingers and staring at me cross eyed. I wish he would start playing the banjo. So at least I could get a good laugh in before I die. Normally, a 5'7, 900 pound fat guy, who can not move. Would not scare me at all. I am not in the greatest shape. But I am fairly confident I could outrun a fatty too large to move. Unfortunately for me. Nothing about this situation is normal. I left normal at the starting line a long time ago and never looked back.

You see the fat inbred retard. Does not live in a trailer park. Or a swamp. Or the mountains. Or the hills. He lives in a mansion. A mansion in Connecticut. Specifically, Greenwich Connecticut’s Golden Triangle. The richest neighborhood in America. This fat son of a you know what. Lives in thirteen thousand square feet of American awesome. When I was being dragged through one of his living rooms. I saw a 105 inch curved ultra high definition television. I am not going to lie. The sight of it. Turned me on just a little. If I told you his last name you would not recognize it. Were not talking Bill Gates rich. Were talking secret rulers of the world rich. Before the Illuminati imploded. This guys inbred family had a seat on the inner council.

Why would a family of retarded inbred hippo sized people, have that kind of clout. Well, its because they are werewolves. Duh. They are inbred and retarded because they have to breed with each other too keep the werewolf gene in the family. They are extremely fat because a werwolf can only transform whatever mass he already has. So a 150 pound human can transform into a 150 pound werewolf. A 900 pound human can transform into a 900 pound death machine. When human, they are fat, dumb, and slow. When werewolves, they are smart, deadly, and fast. Its an even tradeoff if you ask me. Cows during the day. Werewolves at night. Welcome to the world of the rich and powerful. So now that you know. Try not to judge them too hard on all the icky fat sister cousin loving. Doesn't the bible say only those without sin can cast the first snarky tweet on their phone.

Now your probably wondering two things. Who am I. Why am I talking to myself. The answer to the second is. I am not talking to myself. I am talking to you. I have created a link between us. Maybe you are reading this on an online forum or a book. Maybe its a tall tale being told to you in a bar. Maybe your schizophrenic and I am a voice in your head. What it boils down to is this. I am uploading my story into your subconscious in case I do in fact get eaten. Its a trick I was taught by that wandering immortal prick Saint Germain. If I die and the link is broken. You will be compelled to tell this tale to a talking Chihuahua who goes by the name of Tiny. If I live, you will just have really weird dreams for the rest of your life. Either way you get to touch a world that is so far beyond you. You should count yourself lucky. Heck, I think a thank you is in order. You ungrateful douche.

Now back to who I am. I am the Blur. Who is the Blur. A twat who had too much time on his hands. Since I had too much time on my hands, I read a lot. Since I read a lot, I thought I was smarter than everyone else. Since I thought I was smarter than everyone else. I wanted to find a way to be better than everyone else. Since I was such a genius. I figured out two ways to achieve my goal. I could build a mini Hadron collider in my garage, and smash really tiny protons and ions into myself. Or I could find ten magic rings. Being a rational man of science. I believe in evolution and everything. I naturally chose the ten magic rings.

Now I am going to tell you how I got my ten magic rings. Why? Because I still got time before the sun goes down and this fat retard inbred werewolf eats me. Thats why. You for sure, should just listen to everything I say. I am a freaking hero. I have saved the world and everything. Well I was right next to someone who did, one time. What have you done. Do you have anything else to do as I invade your mind. Huh, do you. I thought not. Its all just complain, complain, complain, from you. I mean you have not actually said a word. But my point still stands. My point always stands. I am the Blur. I am special. Your just you. Get over it and go with the flow. My flow. The first three rings I won in a series of games against three strippers named, Strawberry, Peaches, and Cream.

Strawberry is a red headed, green eyed, Mongolian girl. I am assuming from Mongolia. Mongolia if you do not know, is where the Chinese get their beef. Just go to any Chinese restaurant and look at the menu. They all say Monglian Beef. Once when she was gyrating on my lap. Strawberry told me she was related to Ghenghis Khan. I find it highly doubtful she was related to a Star Trek villain but I did not want to argue with her. Since you know, she was gyrating on my lap. Strawberry and I played a game of Senet. Since lady luck was on my side. I won the game. So Strawberry gave me the Bramham Moor Ring. Which is a ring made of electrum that makes my blood congeals faster than normal.

Peaches is a brunette with blue eyes from Georgia. The country not the state. Peaches has, how do I put this, gigantic assets. If you think they grow them big in Texas. They grow them bigger in Georgia. Again, the country not the state. She once said the reason her assets were so huge. Was because of a special gene that runs in her family. Her family originally came from someplace named Chernobyl, before they moved to Georgia. I did not ask any more questions at the time. I was too busy staring at those assets to care. Georgia and I played a game of Fidchell. I made sure to wear a blindfold so I would not be distracted. So I won easily. Georgia gave me the Kingmoor Ring. A gold ring that makes my bones re-knit real quick.

Cream is an albino with pink eyes and white hair from Brazil. Cream and I had a thing for a while. That's how I knew about the rings to begin with. She loved me more than anything. I loved me more than anything. You would think that common interest would make us a perfect match. Alas it twas not to be. The relationship ended when she caught Strawberry gyrating on my lap while I was staring at Peaches assets. I was just trying to help out the flailing economy by supporting a local business. Who knew a stripper would be jealous of other professionals in her own line of work. Go figure. Anywho, Cream and I played a game of Karnöffel. I had Strawberry as a partner. She had Peaches. I was dealt the Karnöffel, the Devil, the Pope, the Kaiser, and the Oberstecher. Since I am sure you are familiar with the game of Karnöffel. I mean who isn't, right. You know that is a guaranteed winning hand. No matter what anyone else was dealt. From Cream I got the Linstock Castle Ring. A ring made of agate that when worn in conjunction with the Bramham Moor Ring and the Kingmoor Ring. Enhances the attributes of said rings.

Now that I was a little harder to hurt. It was time to get the next ring. I performed a standard evocatio, to summon away the deity of the city I was passing through. If you do not know what that is. Learn Latin or go read a book or Wikipedia or something. Don't they teach anything in schools anymore. Since the city I was passing through, was Chicago. The Deity I summoned away was a giant anthropomorphic onion named Garlic. I burned a Packers flag and gave Garlic some deep dish pizza. In return he told me the current location of Solomons Ring. So I flew on a plane, not a broom, to Ethiopia. I traveled to the small town of Aksum. Where I was challenged to a rap battle by an Ethiopian monk named Kool Moe Dawit. I easily defeated him with my sick rhymes. So he was honor bound to hand over the Ring of Solomon. A brass and iron ring in the shape of a hexagram. That when worn, allows the wearer to control demons and speak to animals.

The next two rings were easy. Using Solomons Ring. I commanded the demon/fallen angel Abezethibod, to go forth and find me a ring that would allow me to travel between worlds. If you have never had the pleasure of meeting Abezethibod. I highly recommend it. It is hilarious. He/she/it has only one wing. You should see he/she/it try to fly around and do your bidding. Its better than having one of those little remote controlled helicopters. Abezethibod returned with two rings. A green ring and a yellow ring. The yellow ring takes me to some crappy place with nothing but woods and no Starbucks. The green ring takes me from the crappy woods with no Starbucks to any other world and time in existence. Sweet and convenient if you ask me. The only downside is, I don't get to rack up all those air miles anymore. There is this all you can eat rib shack in Deluth, Minnesota. That accepts air miles instead of cash. Sigh.

With the yellow and green ring I went on a little tour of the multiverse. I did a lot of awesome things that would make you want to be me. I would tell you all of it but your head would explode from how cool I am. So I'll skip to the next ring. I got it from some annoying British guy with glasses and a scar on his head. He was all. I need it to stop some evil guy. When I asked the evil guys name. He said he couldn't say it. What a loser. So I just took the M G Ring from his discarded pants after I introduced him to the goblin red light district. The M G Ring is a gold ring with a black stone. That allows whoever is wearing it to communicate and interact with the dead. I needed it to uhmmm, chat, yeah chat. With Marilyn Monroe.

After chatting with Marilyn Monroe. The ghosts of John and Bobby Kennedy started to haunt me for no reason. I thought it was best I should lay low. So I set forth to find some rings that would make me invisible. I am a cautious person who believes more is better. So I thought I should get three rings to make me extra super invisible. I traveled to the past and beat the crap out of Plato. He knows why. From him I got the Gyges ring. Next I watched a play by some guy named Wagner. It was okay. A little long as it took days, but I like to think of myself as sophisticated. From inside his mind I got the Ring of the Nibelung. Which besides invisibility has the added bonus of making me the ruler of the world. The third invisibility ring. I caught at the last second before it sunk into a volcano. Some short barefoot guy with big ole hairy feet was throwing it in. I guess he never heard of custom made orthopedic shoes. One mans garbage is another mans treasure I say. Since it was the last ring of invisibility I obtained. I like to call it the one ring to fool them all. Sure the last ring makes me cranky but it also makes me feel special and precious.

So that is how I got my ten magic rings. Now your wondering how does someone as perfect and powerful as me, get caught by an inbred fat retarded werewolf. Why don't I use my rings to escape. Well the first thing the fat inbred tard did when he caught me last night,was bite off my hands. Luckily I foresaw such a problem. The rings have a spell on them that teleports them into a shoe box underneath my bed. If they are ever detached from my body. This is a dangerous, thankless, job. You can never be too careful. I was sent in to stop these rich fat inbred werewolves from killing and eating virgins. I mean I do not like to look down on anyones culture. But orders are orders. The dog wants these guys stopped. I stop them. End of story.

Or is it. Now that the sun has set. There is no longer a fat inbred retard in a muumuu in front of me. There is a 7 foot death machine with fangs in front of me. I can see pleasure in his eyes and glee in his heart. He wants me bad. More than Marilyn did. More than Strawberry, Peaches, and Cream combined. He leaps and tears the gate of my cage off. The last thing I want to tell you is this. I am a coward. I do not want to die. Also, I am a compulsive liar. You see this connection between us. Is not just me giving you my story so you can report to the dog. In case I die. This connection between us has been open long enough for me to crawl inside your mind and make myself a home. I am sorry, I really am. I know I am one of the good guys, a super hero, but its only because the pays better. The fact of the matter is. I am more important than you are. I am special. My mom and my rings say so. I am the Blur. Your just a loser. An average joe. So were switching places now. Enjoy being werewolf food. Peace out.

THE END

a reply to: karmicecstasy
Sorry I didn't see this earlier...but, better late than...unaware.
Just started reading the first one, and continue to thrill at your talent.
Will be back to read more after sleep and work!