The Superhero Fan

The sun let out an eye piercing heat wave as Ken Morrison, living in 6897 W, Orchosacharian Shea, sat in his car carrying a pile of books from the library. His curly and dark brown hair soaked up the sun’s attack and warmed him. His cotton shirt was turquoise. He had a matching color of Under Armor shoes and shorts. His photo-chromatic eyeglasses were shaded. The glasses were absorbing the heat completely. His face was beaded with sweat. He was sitting just beside the driver’s seat. In the driver’s seat, sat his mom. She was wearing her aviator ray-ban sunglasses. The Air conditioner vents were turned to full speed. It was 105 degrees F.

         They sat in their gleaming white Mercedes. And so they headed for their home.

         Ken’s mom really had the taste for driving. She made the car slither uncontrollably. Then, she made a U-turn and veered straight to Orchosacharian Shea.

         There were houses piled up neatly in the street. Ken’s Mom gently parked the car around the address plate saying, The Morrison’s.

         Ken stepped outside the car and ran to the door. He rang the bell five times impatiently as if he was about to miss his favorite television show.

         The door was opened by a tall man about 35 years of age. He had short, black hair. His polo shirt looked too big for him. He welcomed the two of them in.

          On the sofa was Ken’s baby brother. He was sleeping peacefully. Ken let him sleep and went upstairs to do his own matters.

         Ken was a seven-year-old boy who studied at Decurion National School. He had an unexpected taste for reading books. And the majority of that was superhero comic books.

         Ken was fascinated by the superhero comics. He was amazed by the twists and concerns the protagonists had to face from the antagonist.

         He took out the books from the bag. On the top was a superhero comic. He turned down the page and started reading.

         By the time he was finished reading it was lunchtime. His mom had called him down when he was at the last page. He swiftly finished the last page and headed downstairs.

         By that you could probably come to a positive conclusion that Ken was a slow reader!

         Ken’s mom had told him that if he could help other people, he would be a superhero in a different and needful way. And that was it!

         He helped his mom serve the food. His mom had made a fair deal that if he helped her with. . . well, mostly whatever she told him; she would reward him money. Ken had thought about that for a whole day and had brainstormed a final conclusion, he would accept the money. Besides, the comic books costed like two bucks. He could buy the comics.

         The author of the superhero comic books was Degaru Kalamtigor. Ken had thoughtfully downloaded kindle on his iPad and had followed Degaru Kalamtigor for further updates. He was literally addicted to reading.

         Oh, and he was also a fan of Marvel Studios. (I mean, who isn’t?)

         He loved the avengers.

         Anyway, Ken sat at the dining table for lunch after serving food to everyone. He ate hungrily and talked about comic books to his family.

         After lunch, Ken went up to his room and took a quick nap. He fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

         As he fell asleep, he dreamed about collecting comic books. He always collected the comics from the library. But his dream consisted of something he had never thought, until now. He sighed and slept more, brainstorming ideas on how to convince his parents.

         He woke up late evening. He refreshed himself and headed downstairs. He saw his parents sitting at the couch in the living room. They were discussing about what they should/shouldn’t buy for future investments.

         Ken passed them and headed towards the kitchen. He saw an article lying on the dining table. He picked it up with his numb hands. He sneezed! And again!

         He had caught a cold. That would mean no school for him. He glanced at the article again.

         He turned the page over and read, ‘Best way to earn money at home.’ He held the paper tightly, and lost in thought about the article, took the paper in his room.

         The next day, he woke up and after eating his breakfast, came back to his room. His cold had deflated, making him feel better. He had left the article at his desk yesterday. He picked it up again and started reading it after jumping on his bed.

         He first read the introduction that talked about what was happening in the world, about people losing their job because of investments and negotiating. Then it came to the beginning of it. It said, ‘Our company’s decisions will give you the happiest life you can get! To set things right, we think you should do something you always passion, like reading, playing instruments, sports etc. Use that passion of yours to master that same thing in an exciting way. Thank you for using our help!’

         Ken had never been excitingly serious before. (Other than the time he found something inappropriate in a school book. That had not been the best day for that school. Long story! Cheesy gossip. Ask me later!) (Oh, another time was the time he had peed in his pants in public! That had not been the best day for Ken. Also, he was serious, not excited. Long story! Cheesy gossip! Do NOT ask me later!)

         He was about to pluck to the next page when his mom cried, ‘Ken, do you know where the article that was lying on the dining table went?’

         Ken replied, ‘Yes, mom, I have it! I’ll bring it to you!’ And with that he went downstairs with the article.

         ‘Achoo,’ sneezed Ken. His mom passed him the medicine. She grabbed the article from him. ‘What were you doing with the article last night?’ ‘Um,’ Ken managed, ‘I was. . . uh, doing, oh, I was keeping it on my desk in case you forgot about it. Right, because you have a bad habit of throwing stuff away!’ ‘Mm- hmm,’ she said as if she was chewing off of a chicken leg, ‘so that’s what it is? Oh well, I guess I can do nothing about kids who are looking for ways to earn money while at home. Such imagination!’

         Ken shuddered. How did his mom know about this, I don’t know? But Ken just let his mom go away to keep the article to his father who wanted to read it.

         His mom and dad didn’t question him about the article incident in he further days, which was perfectly fine by him. He was at school, in the library. He didn’t have his cold anymore.

         He and his classmates were making their wish list for the scholastic book fair. The books had arrived a day ago. Ken had been eager for this. He took a pen and paper and started jotting down the books (or should I say comics) on the paper. After jotting down the books, he silently waited for class to end. Mainly because library was the last period of the day. After library, his mom arrived in the Mercedes. He told his mom about the books he wanted to buy at he at the library.

         Ken didn’t notice but after he had turned his head away, his mom had the slightest lines of worry on her forehead.

         Ken went up to his dad. He asked his dad for some money. But he declined him straight away. Ken tried again a few hours later. Still a no.

         Ken wasn’t the happiest person that day. He remembered about the article that he had read about money. ‘Things you passion,’ he recalled.

         He took out his computer and worked on it for a few hours. After finishing whatever he was doing, he went to Gmail and emailed it to his dad. After that, he went downstairs.

         Luckily, his dad was checking his emails, because when Ken came downstairs, he saw his dad lost deep in thought at the computer screen. His eyes moved down and down. Which significantly meant that he was reading Ken’s story. After a few minutes, his father lifted his head up. He went up to Ken and said that was a great story. Guess what, his story was about superheroes. Later on, Ken got his story published in his school. He earned tons of money. And with that money, he got what he had wanted, his comic books. He bought tons of them. He later became an author just as great as Degaru Kalamtigor. His collection was piled in his bedroom. And it became his childhood’s memory. . .