The Night I Gave Roger Permission

Of course I gave it to him. Dear reader, did you really expect me to deny my best friend a chance at happiness? Looks like you don't know me at all.

Shortly after Roger returned from the restroom (he had something in his eye apparently) we ending up discussing the night on the corner. The night he was stabbed. Roger was still certain that the reason he didn't grow was because of the knife wound. The shock to his system had halted the transformation.

I had long since given up trying to convince Roger that he never really grew to tremendous heights when he came in contact with water. He believed that I would say such 'lies' to stop him from putting himself in danger or other such nonsense. While that was partly true (I did want him to stop putting himself in danger) he failed to see the elephant in the room.

Roger had been cultivating and nurturing the Leviathan part of himself long before he shared it with me. By the time I became privy to his secret, it was already so deeply ingrained there was no changing it, at least not without intensive psychotherapy.

Now I had given him the means, unspoken permission, to continue as Leviathan. Part of his depression the previous weeks had been because of my obvious joy. Look at it from Roger's point of view. Imagine if the thing that you felt set you apart, made you special, was so embarrassing and annoying to your best friend that they would revel in the absence of it. Yea, I felt like a shit. Giving him the free class at the martial arts school was essential giving my blessing. It meant more to him then my putting on a costume, riding around in a bright orange sports car, and answering to Mini-Might.

The very next day after I gave Roger the gift certificate he joined his first class. Basic self-defense. Starting small was a good thing. I thought it best to not observe him during lessons, didn't want to add any pressure. Plus I had suspicions that he was more out of shape then he ever let on. I did however keep track of his progress. It was not hard to call up the school's owner, Braylon, seeing as we'd been friends back home. Somewhere along the way during one of my phone conversations with Braylon, I decided to take some lessons myself.

Leviathan and Mini-Might were the farthest thing from my mind when I signed up for the class.