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For a 7th or 8th grade project I was required to make a super hero that was an element on the periodic table of elements. Knowing children at that age, you would expect "Iron Man" or "Aluminum Boy" or something along those lines.
I'm a special child; I used the only element NOBODY could think of to use for a super hero: Calcium. Hence, "Calcium Man" was born! But Calcium Man had to have powers for this project, so I had to think of powers...well, I won't spoil, but it has to do with Calcium. Even after getting anA D on this project, I felt it was necessary to enlarge this Man into something BIGGER than life...I then deemed him with the name:
Mother Fucking Calcium Man. The story of his epic tale will be here shortly as I am still reading it.
It was a muggy December night in New York. Confetti was seemingly coming from the sky, people cheering as it poured. Only at a time like this could Eric Rogers find a time to hide in an alley and change. He knew that there was little time before the world was going to be destroyed by an evil group that called themselves “Cavaties”. Upon walking into this alley he came across the one person that could save the world and all that he loved, but he silently wondered…would he be able to take him out of despair long enough to save the world?
“Going out to lunch, Joe? If you’re an hour late again you know the boss is going to flip.” This was the common thoughtfulness of my friends, always concerned for my job. I walked out of the building and idly watched as people passed through the entry way. In an office building like this, you only work in cubicles. It goes without saying that it’s very hard to know who’s in an office building when they’re surrounded by white walls; though I can always recognize the sound of their voices.
I’m thinking a sandwich for lunch and a walk in the park. Did I say sandwich and a park? I meant beer and a stripper. Ah; the fruits of life are all coming together. In New York I constantly spot crime due to our ubiquitous failures of the police team. Gangs here, gangs there, muggers, rapists, rappers; they all get on freely. So…why shouldn’t I get away with crime freely? I should stop thinking like this, it’s thoughts like this that make society as shitty as it is. Speak of the devil, “Hey bro, you wanna buy a watch? I got rolex…something for the ladies? You in to that?” the moron persisted. Oh, look, a cop eating a donut. Well that’s real nice. I’m being sold stolen property and you’re chomping on lard. “Take your business somewhere else, scum,” I told him, shoving him down. That was a mistake…
The next thing I know I am running for my life down the street with a maniac holding a knife yelling at me for being some kind of “cholo?” My name is Joe; that’s not a Mexican name! I was running for dear life when I finally came to the strip club. What can I say? It’s my guilty pleasure.
I was approached by the usual brunette with a “Welcome Joe! Red head again?” They know me so well. She led me across the club, which reeked of smoke and perfume, to a pole with what seemed like a red haired angel. For a fee, strippers will happily do the nasty for you in a private area and that’s just what I came here for. Some people think that I’m a hypocrite for using a hooker but despising criminals; hey, she’s selling a product and I’m buying. It isn’t wrong if she’s okay with it. For the first time, though, she was a little bit…shy isn’t the right word for a hooker, but timid. She didn’t seem to want to be at her job anymore. I no longer heard the “Hey, Joe, my faaaaavorite customer!” that used to ring in my ears so violently (she had a voice so high it must have shattered glass). No, today she was different. For once I decided to take a step away from “customer” and be a friend.
For a 7th or 8th grade project I was required to make a super hero that was an element on the periodic table of elements. Knowing children at that age, you would expect "Iron Man" or "Aluminum Boy" or something along those lines.
I'm a special child; I used the only element NOBODY could think of to use for a super hero: Calcium. Hence, "Calcium Man" was born! But Calcium Man had to have powers for this project, so I had to think of powers...well, I won't spoil, but it has to do with Calcium. Even after getting an
Mother Fucking Calcium Man. The story of his epic tale will be here shortly as I am still reading it.
Pilot
It was a muggy December night in New York. Confetti was seemingly coming from the sky, people cheering as it poured. Only at a time like this could Eric Rogers find a time to hide in an alley and change. He knew that there was little time before the world was going to be destroyed by an evil group that called themselves “Cavaties”. Upon walking into this alley he came across the one person that could save the world and all that he loved, but he silently wondered…would he be able to take him out of despair long enough to save the world?
[One Year Earlier]
“Going out to lunch, Joe? If you’re an hour late again you know the boss is going to flip.” This was the common thoughtfulness of my friends, always concerned for my job. I walked out of the building and idly watched as people passed through the entry way. In an office building like this, you only work in cubicles. It goes without saying that it’s very hard to know who’s in an office building when they’re surrounded by white walls; though I can always recognize the sound of their voices.
I’m thinking a sandwich for lunch and a walk in the park. Did I say sandwich and a park? I meant beer and a stripper. Ah; the fruits of life are all coming together. In New York I constantly spot crime due to our ubiquitous failures of the police team. Gangs here, gangs there, muggers, rapists, rappers; they all get on freely. So…why shouldn’t I get away with crime freely? I should stop thinking like this, it’s thoughts like this that make society as shitty as it is. Speak of the devil, “Hey bro, you wanna buy a watch? I got rolex…something for the ladies? You in to that?” the moron persisted. Oh, look, a cop eating a donut. Well that’s real nice. I’m being sold stolen property and you’re chomping on lard. “Take your business somewhere else, scum,” I told him, shoving him down. That was a mistake…
The next thing I know I am running for my life down the street with a maniac holding a knife yelling at me for being some kind of “cholo?” My name is Joe; that’s not a Mexican name! I was running for dear life when I finally came to the strip club. What can I say? It’s my guilty pleasure.
I was approached by the usual brunette with a “Welcome Joe! Red head again?” They know me so well. She led me across the club, which reeked of smoke and perfume, to a pole with what seemed like a red haired angel. For a fee, strippers will happily do the nasty for you in a private area and that’s just what I came here for. Some people think that I’m a hypocrite for using a hooker but despising criminals; hey, she’s selling a product and I’m buying. It isn’t wrong if she’s okay with it. For the first time, though, she was a little bit…shy isn’t the right word for a hooker, but timid. She didn’t seem to want to be at her job anymore. I no longer heard the “Hey, Joe, my faaaaavorite customer!” that used to ring in my ears so violently (she had a voice so high it must have shattered glass). No, today she was different. For once I decided to take a step away from “customer” and be a friend.
End of Chapter 1
Last edited by Skyos on Sun Nov 01, 2009 9:45 am; edited 4 times in total
