The Rise and Fall of Super Town

by David HENNE
 

Well, the free ride was over. Our alien super suits had had enough. Without a word, they tore themselves from our naked bodies and floated off into the night.

We didn’t know it then, but our super suits were disappointed in us. Apparently they came here from a dying planet to help mankind advance to a New Golden Age. Maybe they’d given us this information three months ago, when they first landed in our town, but we didn’t remember that stuff anymore. We didn’t have to remember anything — we were in super suits.

We could fly, shoot lasers, manipulate time, and lift up cars and throw them at any depression lingering from our former lives. And if a bank robber was behind our depression at that time? All the better.

Word of our new alien super suits traveled fast. “Super Town Suited for Super Future” the papers wrote. Folks came from five counties over to take our pictures and touch us. But after watching us fly around exhibiting our super powers for several weeks, the public suddenly expected us to usher in a new golden age. We kindly declined. All we wanted was to be left alone to happily fly around or shoot lasers in our Laser Range (formerly Town Hall). We learned quickly that we weren’t allowed to be happy. Happiness was reserved for those who complained about everything we were doing.

Shortly after our fallout with the local public, the entire world started to harass us too. Folks expected us to solve every world problem, cure every disease. We even made it to the New York Times “Fashion and Style” section under the headline “No Style.” Which was even more insulting because we thought we’d had a damned good amount of style.

Just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse, the super suits decided they’d had enough and abandoned us in the night. It was a horrible revelation to wake to — especially since our legs had atrophied from inactivity. Apparently, in addition to the New Golden Age speech, we were instructed not to stay in our super suits for a prolonged amount of time. But how were we supposed to remember that when we could manipulate time?

Devastated and alone, we crawled out of our houses that morning naked as the day we merged. We watched as our alien super suits gathered in the sky. We thought this spelled the end and waited to be smote. Then, it got even worse. The super suits redeployed to Earth and flew right past us and into the woods surrounding our town. There, slowly and deliberately, they attached to nearly all the available woodland animals.

Almost seconds after the Great Sacrilege, the super animals sprung into action. And as if immediately promoting ceasefires, curing global ills and helping mankind progress to a new golden age wasn’t enough, the super animals decided they’d build a new utopian society for themselves, right in our woods, right where we could see. The super animals’ utopia wasn’t great. It mostly ran on wood and water and other boring junk. But the papers were all over it, like everything else the super animals did. “A Society Where Guns Only Exist in Museums,” they called it.

We let the vermin know exactly how we felt about their new society. We dragged ourselves to their utopia and knocked over important pieces of it in the night. We crawled around, spitting on everything we could find and generally raising hell.

Hard as we tried though, the super animals didn’t care enough to engage us. They just quietly rebuilt any destruction we’d caused the night before. And when the animals would spot us crawling around trying to hide from them, they’d use the super suits to create wheelchairs for us. A deer even manipulated time and offered us the future’s cure for muscle deterioration. But we spat on those offerings. We were men and we didn’t take charity — especially not from filthy, Godless animals.

After we’d seen enough of the animal utopia and how its inhabitants reacted to our aggression, we decided that was that. We held a town hall meeting in one of our more popular alleyways (the original Town Hall now rubble from past laserings) and invited the super animals to listen as we read a prepared statement. We issued our temporary surrender in the human/animal war of attrition. We admitted partial defeat and told the super animals they had quasi-won. We asked them to go back to their utopia in peace, but to also go to hell while they were at it.

These days we are quietly regaining our strength. We live off the baskets of fresh fruit that are mysterious left daily in front of our shanties. As our muscles grow, we’re using our newfound energy to build a new town — a place where people can happily remain apathetic but also turn violent when they get strong enough. It will be a town that openly rejects all alien super suits, government and animals. A town to rival any utopia. A town where museums only exist in guns.

You Might Consider Visiting

Our Online Shop

or

Ten Memories of John Wooden (RIP coach) »

« The Antietam Whore