The Travails of a Superhero

Ever so often, I go into these phases, where I think I'm invincible and the world can't lay a hand on me. This is often accompanied by long sessions in front of the bathroom mirror, where I'd examine my muscles, keep fantasizing about being the Man of Steel and how I'd fly around the world rescuing damsels in distress. Sadly, it doesn't take very long for these delusions to be shattered. Most times, my nemesis would take the shape of a jam bottle.

Roommate would ask me to open it because I was the one who used it last time, and I'd better get it open for him again. My first reaction is to snicker at his relative weakness, and declare that all I had to do was to focus, stare the bottle down, and it would pop open out of sheer shame. This would be followed by a minute of so of directing all the Jedi power I possessed on that evil thing on the table. It would just stare back with a baleful grin and perhaps even laugh manically at my sheer ineffectiveness. In the recesses of my mind I would hear Yoda's voice at the Jedi Council saying "Jedi, he is not. Weak, in the force he is. For him, bathroom cleaner is better job".

With a blood-curdling yell, that would make Tarzan proud. I launch myself across the room, and the bottle and I would be engaged in hand-to-hand combat across the entire apartment. Nothing in the room would remain untouched. We'd fight on the dining table-top, roll across the floor to the drawing room, bang our heads against the wall, burn each other with a little fire. All the time, I'd have my hands around its scrawny neck, but the bottle possesses the strength of a hundred Hindi Movie Heros. Soon, all my energy would be spent and my ego would be a pale shadow of its former self, while the bottle emerged unscathed. With my head bent in shame and failure, I'd declare that the jam bottle was an adversary with skills way beyond my limited capabilities. Filled with utter dejection, I then hand it over to my third roommate. He would be engrossed in chatting with his million girlfriends, and he'd be like "Can't you see i'm busy???? Stop bothering me." Then with a skill that presaged extensive practice, he'd removes one of his hands from the keyboard, flicks his fingers with one easy movement and .. ta da..., the bottle lays open!! Utterly humiliating to say the least.

Of course, this state of affairs doesn't last too long, Who cares about being the strongest person in the world. Arnold Schwarznegger?? Yeah, but who really gives two hoots about him. I'd trade brawn for brains anyday. So, the next few hours are spent like Dexter. My mind would be churning out inventions that would bring teleportation to reality, flying cars and a quick fix solution to global warming.

uhho!.. I just remembered that I have mid-term tomorrow and I haven't done a blessed thing . My professor obviously doesn't give a damn about all my other inventions.

Darn, The world is so hostile to us geniuses!!