Tales of the Parodyverse

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CrazySugarFreakBoy!
Fri May 28, 2004 at 02:50:12 pm EDT
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Kirk Boxleitner turned 29 years old on May 28, 2004, and received the following story as a gift from a friend in his e-mail on the same day ...
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Denise Murray is a kick-ass chick I first met a few years ago now over on the long-since defunct forums of X-Entertainment, whom I've been trying to persuade to start posting over here for quite a while now, and while she still feels a bit nervous about diving in the deep end of the Parodyverse with both feet, I have nonetheless succeeded in recruiting her as a moderator on my own recently-created forum, Radio Free KBOX Online, where we discuss the sex lives of fictional characters from comic books, cartoons, science fiction and fantasy stories together.

However, while she still doesn't feel totally ready to enter into the fray over here just yet, she did manage to make my birthday a very happy one already by penning the following self-contained tale, centering around a character whom the reader may be interested to note is not too terribly dissimilar from herself, and since I have obtained her permission to do so, I shall hereby share with you all the brief but entertaining costumed crime-fighting career of Denise the Librarista:




The library's doors close at 10, but I'm usually there for another hour making sure everything is really locked up and the damn kids haven't left any surprises for us. This particular night had been especially trying. People who didn't want to pay fines, people who didn't understand check out limits, screaming children, teenagers getting naked in the bathroom, babies drooling all over expensive science text books, stoners smoking in the lobby, obsessive older men trying to pick up the young shelvers, and--of course--the computers were down for two hours. People wonder why I don't drink. It's because I'd never stop.

There was a bright side, though. I wouldn't be spending the hours until dawn chasing down the poor excuses for humans that committed all those infractions during the day. No, my unnamed vigilante persona had been retired. Normally I'd never think myself the Masked Avenger type, but one night I just got sick of it and started playing some creative pranks. You can read about them in the paper--I have copies if you'd like. I was actually thinking of working on my scrapbook that night but I was too damned tired. So much for me being a night owl.

Walking down the dark streets I was struck again by how much they looked like a movie set. No wonder I'd been caught up in my little fantasy. This place just begs for its own cast of kooky villains and a mythical protector. I know there are such types out there. The Legion of Something Or Another. Unfortunately those of us in this particular city are too lazy to make our own good and bad guys. I tried for a few weeks, but just got grief for it. Well, not so much "grief" as "a crazy hyper guy in a neon suit" that followed me around for a night and basically talked me out of it. I think he hit on me, too. But he was moving so damned fast I had a hard time keeping track. By the time I realized he, say, grabbed my ass, he'd be over reading a newspaper and talking about the poor state of politics today. I still have his card. Hard to miss since it glows in the dark. And the light. And from under the stack of Time-Life Mysteries of Time.

So I gave up my night-time antics because of one night-long talk. I really enjoyed breaking into patrons' homes and taking all their change or stealing their DVD players or rescuing their overdue books. But I also had a lot of fun that night and though Freaky Hyper Man Guy was always smiling and making jokes I got the message that if I didn't behave he or someone like him would stop me. I'd rather hang out and trade barbs than fight for my continued freedom. I'm not so good that I can fight and be witty. Maybe in a few more years I'd get that talent, but we'll never know now, will we?

At least I got out before the press really caught on and gave me some cutesy name. And it's not like no one would be able to figure out who was doing it--assuming the cops caught on to the similarities of the victims. Now rude patrons can sleep soundly. Like to say I can too, but now that pent up anger is back and I've given up the best release ever. Just going to have to find a new one. Hm. I got a package the other day in a Day Glo orange wrapper. I've been pretty drained lately so I when I couldn't figure out immediately what the thing inside it was, I tossed it aside. Man, how beat does a girl have to be to not realize she's been sent an Authentic CrazySugarFreakDildo! by an honest-to-goodness superhero? And what's her excuse for still writing in her boring diary instead of giving the thing a test drive?

Thank you, Denise.



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