It isn't always successful. Roger can't always hold his cool about being Leviathan.
A couple nights after the thwarted bank robbery we were out at our favorite bar. Roger still was euphoric about "crushing the robber where he stood!" While I was just grateful the cops hadn't come knocking at either one of our doors demanding to know why a high profile staff member to our congressman was gallivanting in spandex in public.
Roger is a charmer anyway, he has to be to be moving up in politics the way he is. When Roger drinks he's even more generous with compliments, and though I learned long ago it's mostly the alcohol talking and though I sometimes get taken in still, it is amusing to watch. He's forgotten about me sitting on his right and instead is putting the moves on the college girl to his other side. She's way too young for him and sober he wouldn't have stood a chance. Luckily for him they're both so drunk they're practically holding each other up, forehead to forehead over the bar top.
I can only hear every few words, catching "yer eyes ser so perty, deep lichk a meadoo." at least twice. Next time I look over they're kissing. All tongue, saliva, and lots of side to side head movement. More licking each others' faces rather then kissing. For some reason I'm reminded of cows. I catch the eye of the girl's friend across the way. She has a pitying expression on her face. At first I think it's for her friend. I get a little miffed, he's not that bad! Then I realize she's pitying me. Oh.
I know how it must look to outsiders. Guy and girl come into bar together. Guy ignores girl and started chewing on other girl's face. It would appear that I've been blown off. It happens occasionally. And occasionally I'm the one that hooks up with someone in the bar. Sometimes. Ok, yes most of the time it's Roger that will leave with someone else, but he's trying more. I prefer to sit, drink my beer, and yearn for a smoke rather then pit my self esteem against male ego. Don't get the wrong idea. Neither one of us is having a bunch of one-night-stands. We do usually try to date the people. Not one has lasted more than three weeks.
Roger suddenly stands up, placing his hand on each of our shoulders he leans his head between the cow girl and me. "Is gotta pees." And he stumbles to the back of the bar towards the restroom. I sit drinking my beer and wonder how the girl will react if she ever finds out that Roger sits down to pee more often then not, especially when drunk.
A minute or two goes by when I hear a large yell from the back of the bar. There's a man taking exaggerated strides, holding his arms widely to his sides, and he's yelling my name. "Sam! I forgot and washed my hands!"
Oh shit. Roger usually uses hand sanitizer to 'prevent' something like this from occurring. Roger now thinks he's Leviathan.
"Fear not, bar patrons!" He bellows. "I will do my best not to crush you. Just stand aside." The others in the bar are staring, trying to work out if he's serious or just seriously drunk.
I put down my beer, throw enough to cover our tab at the bartender, smile at the cow girl, "Well, okay then. See ya." Grabbing my purse and Roger's overcoat, I slide off the stool. Acting as a ramp agent guiding a plane to the terminal I steer Roger out the door and into the night.
"She was pretty," Roger yells down at me (I am quite a bit shorter then him anyway, but he thinks I'm far far away at the moment).
"Yes, she was."
"Maybe I can go back and get her number?"
"No, I think that's the last time we can go in there."
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Bank Robbery (part two)
I was certain I was about to see my friend shot in front of me. My poor delusional friend, who at that moment thought his head was grazing the ceiling.
I'm still standing by the door, grateful only that Roger's antics have distracted the robbers from the tellers, giving them a chance to press the silent alarm, or whatever it is they use in banks. But Roger was still challenging a bank robber with a loaded gun.
"Leviathan!" I called. The robber looked over at me. Even with the ski mask on I could see the utter confusion cross his face.
"What the fuc-" The robber only got the first bit out before Roger, my amazing Roger, bounded across the lobby and body slammed him. (Later Roger would claim that he only took one step and simply tapped the robber, which was enough to knock him down.) The gun skidded across the floor and a teller picked it up. The other robber, sensing the tide had turned ran out the door, without any money.
I ran over to Roger, his shirt in my hands. I wrapped the shirt around his body, pulling him up to a standing position, dragging him towards the door. Over my shoulder I'm pleading with the tellers that they omit the costume craziness during their statements to the police. I know that the bank cameras will capture it all, but perhaps they won't have a clear shot of Roger's face before his reveal.
Roger is mumbling about his transformation not lasting as long as normal. He keeps apologizing for not getting both of the robbers. I'm telling him to shut up as I'm snatching the eye mask off of his face. Neither one of us have a car near-by, so we stand in the square behind a tree as I search my purse for safety pins and paper clips to replace the buttons on his shirt, my shaking hands making it that much harder.
Though I'm terrified I have to admit it was all rather amazing. How did this loony pull it off? Was the delusion so strong that he would actually be able to fight crime? My hand on his elbow, I sped walked Roger back down the street to my bookstore. Ignoring the look of surprise on Leah, my summer help's face, I steer Roger into the back room which I use as an office as well as for storage. Pushing him down onto a box, I have to snap my fingers in front of his eyes to bring him around.
I barely have to bend over to be eye to eye with him even though he's sitting. I watch as a goofy grin of utter joy spreads across Roger's face. Just looking at him I know that this has broken the last tenuous grasp on reality he had. He is now irretrievably convinced that he is a superhero.
I'm still standing by the door, grateful only that Roger's antics have distracted the robbers from the tellers, giving them a chance to press the silent alarm, or whatever it is they use in banks. But Roger was still challenging a bank robber with a loaded gun.
"Leviathan!" I called. The robber looked over at me. Even with the ski mask on I could see the utter confusion cross his face.
"What the fuc-" The robber only got the first bit out before Roger, my amazing Roger, bounded across the lobby and body slammed him. (Later Roger would claim that he only took one step and simply tapped the robber, which was enough to knock him down.) The gun skidded across the floor and a teller picked it up. The other robber, sensing the tide had turned ran out the door, without any money.
I ran over to Roger, his shirt in my hands. I wrapped the shirt around his body, pulling him up to a standing position, dragging him towards the door. Over my shoulder I'm pleading with the tellers that they omit the costume craziness during their statements to the police. I know that the bank cameras will capture it all, but perhaps they won't have a clear shot of Roger's face before his reveal.
Roger is mumbling about his transformation not lasting as long as normal. He keeps apologizing for not getting both of the robbers. I'm telling him to shut up as I'm snatching the eye mask off of his face. Neither one of us have a car near-by, so we stand in the square behind a tree as I search my purse for safety pins and paper clips to replace the buttons on his shirt, my shaking hands making it that much harder.
Though I'm terrified I have to admit it was all rather amazing. How did this loony pull it off? Was the delusion so strong that he would actually be able to fight crime? My hand on his elbow, I sped walked Roger back down the street to my bookstore. Ignoring the look of surprise on Leah, my summer help's face, I steer Roger into the back room which I use as an office as well as for storage. Pushing him down onto a box, I have to snap my fingers in front of his eyes to bring him around.
I barely have to bend over to be eye to eye with him even though he's sitting. I watch as a goofy grin of utter joy spreads across Roger's face. Just looking at him I know that this has broken the last tenuous grasp on reality he had. He is now irretrievably convinced that he is a superhero.
The Bank Robbery
How we didn't end up arrested, I'll never understand.
Roger doesn't always wear his costume under his clothes. If he did I would be even more worried. It's only on certain mornings that he feels the need to don the orange and yellow costume under his suit and tuck his eye mask into his jacket pocket. He says that those mornings he just gets a feeling that he might need it. There's no flash of a vision or anything of the sort, he admitted after I pressed. Just a simple feeling. Most days nothing happens, and he ends up having to hand-wash his costume in the kitchen sick (while wearing gloves), hang it to drip dry over the bathtub for nothing. But about three months ago shortly after he left for work with his suit hiding his other identity, he actually revealed it to the world.
The first half of the day was ordinary. He reviewed the congressman's agenda, checked the online newspapers and blogs for mentions of the congressman's name, and left early for lunch to drop off the congressman's dry-cleaning.
We were meeting in the square before heading to lunch. I was planning on depositing money from yesterday's sales at the bookstore in the bank before I met up with Roger, but was running late. It was just supposed to be a quick stop before we walked to the cafe. I could tell something was up the moment we entered. I'm in the bank almost every day and know most of the tellers by name. When no one looked up and smiled at me, I stopped in the middle of whatever mundane thing I was saying to Roger. He didn't notice and continued talking about the congressman's latest interview.
Fuck. Bank robbery. There were actual robbers with actual ski masks and actual guns in the bank. I know the moment Roger realized what was happening because his whole body stiffened. It was just for a moment and then the fool burst into action. He had his eye mask on so fast I swear he must practice in front of the mirror though he denies it vehemently.
The buttons on his suit jacket popped off ricocheting across the room, hitting one of the robbers above his left eye. If you've never seen a grown man bound, it certainly is a sight to behold. Roger, all thirty three years of him with his slight pouch pressing against his costume, bounded across the bank lobby to the drinking fountain. At this point I think the bank robbers were just as in awe of the spectacle as the rest of us and that is the only reason why Roger wasn't shot.
Flexing his left arm high as if he were kissing his bicep he kicked on the fountain and held his right hand under the stream. At this point he gave the most ridiculous laugh. Roger believed that he was growing and was delirious with his own power. He suddenly withdrew his hand, pointing a finger at the nearest robber.
The robber tilted his head, leveled his gun at Roger, and began to squeeze the trigger.
Roger doesn't always wear his costume under his clothes. If he did I would be even more worried. It's only on certain mornings that he feels the need to don the orange and yellow costume under his suit and tuck his eye mask into his jacket pocket. He says that those mornings he just gets a feeling that he might need it. There's no flash of a vision or anything of the sort, he admitted after I pressed. Just a simple feeling. Most days nothing happens, and he ends up having to hand-wash his costume in the kitchen sick (while wearing gloves), hang it to drip dry over the bathtub for nothing. But about three months ago shortly after he left for work with his suit hiding his other identity, he actually revealed it to the world.
The first half of the day was ordinary. He reviewed the congressman's agenda, checked the online newspapers and blogs for mentions of the congressman's name, and left early for lunch to drop off the congressman's dry-cleaning.
We were meeting in the square before heading to lunch. I was planning on depositing money from yesterday's sales at the bookstore in the bank before I met up with Roger, but was running late. It was just supposed to be a quick stop before we walked to the cafe. I could tell something was up the moment we entered. I'm in the bank almost every day and know most of the tellers by name. When no one looked up and smiled at me, I stopped in the middle of whatever mundane thing I was saying to Roger. He didn't notice and continued talking about the congressman's latest interview.
Fuck. Bank robbery. There were actual robbers with actual ski masks and actual guns in the bank. I know the moment Roger realized what was happening because his whole body stiffened. It was just for a moment and then the fool burst into action. He had his eye mask on so fast I swear he must practice in front of the mirror though he denies it vehemently.
The buttons on his suit jacket popped off ricocheting across the room, hitting one of the robbers above his left eye. If you've never seen a grown man bound, it certainly is a sight to behold. Roger, all thirty three years of him with his slight pouch pressing against his costume, bounded across the bank lobby to the drinking fountain. At this point I think the bank robbers were just as in awe of the spectacle as the rest of us and that is the only reason why Roger wasn't shot.
Flexing his left arm high as if he were kissing his bicep he kicked on the fountain and held his right hand under the stream. At this point he gave the most ridiculous laugh. Roger believed that he was growing and was delirious with his own power. He suddenly withdrew his hand, pointing a finger at the nearest robber.
The robber tilted his head, leveled his gun at Roger, and began to squeeze the trigger.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Introductions
My name is Samantha. Roger is my friend. These are our stories. Well, actually they're more Roger's stories.
Roger is a super hero. When he touches water, Roger grows to colossal heights. When this happens he likes to be addressed as Leviathan. Not the most original, I know. But it makes him happy.
The thing is you see, it's all in his head. Roger doesn't really grow. There's no possession of magical super powers. He just thinks there is. No, he's not crazy, at least not in any other areas of his life. He doesn't go around telling people (has to protect his secret identity) and he doesn't hear voices or think he's Napoleon. There are no anti-psychotics prescribed in his name. He just thinks he grows when he touches water. I chalk it up to reading too many comics when he was younger.
Most of the time, Roger leads a normal life. Some might even say he's successful. He's on staff for a state representative. He glad hands, schmoozes, takes people out to business lunches, and runs embarrassing errands. He is intelligent, good looking in a boyishly handsome way, and has a smile that charms most. He's been engaged, but never married. He has lots of friends that he considers himself close with, but only one that he has confided his secret to. Me.
Me, I'm just a friend of his. We met in college when we both worked at a restaurant. We dated for a minute, but work better as friends. I don't know why it was me that he chose to share with, but he did. It was cute the first time he "grew" for me, but I quickly realized that he wasn't the most stable person when he was in that state. So I became his protector. Roger liked that. He thinks I'm his side-kick. He calls me Mini-Might, because I'm "small but feisty". I do what I can to keep him out of trouble, but I'm not always successful.
These are our adventures.
Roger is a super hero. When he touches water, Roger grows to colossal heights. When this happens he likes to be addressed as Leviathan. Not the most original, I know. But it makes him happy.
The thing is you see, it's all in his head. Roger doesn't really grow. There's no possession of magical super powers. He just thinks there is. No, he's not crazy, at least not in any other areas of his life. He doesn't go around telling people (has to protect his secret identity) and he doesn't hear voices or think he's Napoleon. There are no anti-psychotics prescribed in his name. He just thinks he grows when he touches water. I chalk it up to reading too many comics when he was younger.
Most of the time, Roger leads a normal life. Some might even say he's successful. He's on staff for a state representative. He glad hands, schmoozes, takes people out to business lunches, and runs embarrassing errands. He is intelligent, good looking in a boyishly handsome way, and has a smile that charms most. He's been engaged, but never married. He has lots of friends that he considers himself close with, but only one that he has confided his secret to. Me.
Me, I'm just a friend of his. We met in college when we both worked at a restaurant. We dated for a minute, but work better as friends. I don't know why it was me that he chose to share with, but he did. It was cute the first time he "grew" for me, but I quickly realized that he wasn't the most stable person when he was in that state. So I became his protector. Roger liked that. He thinks I'm his side-kick. He calls me Mini-Might, because I'm "small but feisty". I do what I can to keep him out of trouble, but I'm not always successful.
These are our adventures.