This Is a Book (27 page)

Dead Gravestone Dealer.

Fish Fart.

Before you even think of coming near me, I should warn you that I have powers, and not just ordinary powers. I have super powers. I may appear to be average, but I can assure you I am anything but.

For starters, I can see the future, both during and after it’s happened.

I can also hold my breath for hours at a time in my hands. And speaking of my hands… they are lethal weapons. They are so lethal that I often keep them tied to my sides lest I accidentally kill myself with them.

I can leap over the edge of tall buildings in a single bound, and I sometimes imagine doing it when I feel kind of depressed. But even though I know I can, I don’t, five times so far.

One of my greatest strengths is strength. I can crush an ice cream cone on my forehead like it’s a soda can, and then I can patiently wait for the ice cream to drip down into the lickable area of my face, and never even get a napkin.

In a fire, I am extra flammable, which I am likely to use to my advantage.

I can speed-read, especially anything printed on a T-shirt with large breasts beneath it.

I am a keen observer of human behavior, often from a perch or
from behind some bushes. And when it comes to emotions, I can switch from crying to laughing in a matter of weeks.

I can shoot lasers out of my fingers, though I prefer not to because it requires a lot of set-up time.

And I can keep a secret better than… don’t you wish you knew.

When it’s very windy, I don’t complain. And when there is also rain mixed with the wind, I complain very little. But, if I’m in a bad mood, you’ll know it, because I can sulk so powerfully that it makes everyone who is anywhere near me kind of annoyed.

I am a fierce competitor. During board games, I destroy my enemies completely or argue with them until they don’t want to play anymore.

If you come at me in the wild, be warned. You will be outmatched. I have been known to communicate with animals who have twice my intelligence and then really agitate them.

I can make any doctor go crazy, just by asking him a series of basically identical questions, each with slightly different wording, about the thing on my back.

Dentists fear me, because while they are focusing on my teeth, I am focusing on their crotch.

I can kill someone’s cat with a yo-yo, and probably on purpose too.

I am versatile. I can work with or without a sidekick. I can even work against a sidekick. Villains fear me because I am unpredictable and broccoli. See what I mean?

My weaknesses are few. I am sometimes too strong, like when I’m hugging a loud child or shaking the hand of an ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend. I have been told that I don’t know my own strength by more than one arts and crafts teacher. My only real weakness is lava—and that’s only
before
it cools. Also, I have some severe food allergies.

I am helpful and I am honest. If I see an old lady trying to cross a street, I will tell her she is old. I very rarely steal anything. And
if I do, it’s only because I know I could probably find a use for it eventually.

I can run fast. How fast? Why don’t you ask again, and raise your voice this time, because now I’m way over here.

My vision is impeccable. I can see through the clothes of anyone who is wearing something white who I’ve just sprayed with water.

I have a strong sense of justice, especially when someone tries to cut in front of me in line or break up with me.

When it comes to hearing, mine is legendary. I can become self-conscious about what two people are saying about me from the other side of a party. And when I can’t hear, I read their lips or go over and ask them what they were saying.

I am immune to poison, unless I ingest it; but even then, I put up a pretty impressive fight.

Also, my swimming has been described as “very disturbing.”

Getting into the cannon after somebody has left a cannonball in there and then getting shot point-blank with the cannonball and falling out of the front of the cannon.

Getting shot
into
the cannon (due to backfire).

Loss of hearing and/or entire body.

Inability to enjoy movies about pirates or old sea battles.

Getting shot out of the cannon and then colliding, in mid air, with another human cannonball who was shot out of a nearby cannon.

Recurring, being-shot-out-of-a-cannon night terrors.

After climbing into cannon, helmet gets stuck in the shaft of cannon. The cannon fires and shoots entire body into helmet.

The cannon won’t fire; while looking inside to see what is wrong with it, the cannon fires and shoots head off of body.

Ennui.

Rod. What can you say about Rod? He was one of a kind. He was so full of life. And even though he didn’t have a very long life, he totally squeezed everything he could out of the time he had. I mean, just think about how many times he stayed out all night clubbing.

Rod was one of my best friends. He was one of my “boys.” He was my “homie,” my “dawg,” my “nigga”… not literally, of course, because he was white, like me. We used to call each other that just as a joke. And, man, it was funny every time.

Rod might have been white but he had a heart of gold, both in the sense of being a good guy and in the sense that he had that big gold heart that he used to wear with his other bling whenever he went out. Man, Rod had some great gold chains. If you saw him out at a club or fighting somebody in a parking lot, you’d think he was a millionaire or a rapper, or both. That was Rod. That was how he rolled. You know, Rod was the first guy I ever heard use the term “roll” that way. He’d say “Let’s roll” or “Time to roll, bitches” or just “Roll!” What a badass.

And, damn, he sure was good with words. Rod was so quick. It always amazed me how he could come up with shit off the top of his head, like nicknames. He’d meet someone and within like
20 seconds he’d have a whole nickname for them. “Okay, blue shirt,” he’d say or “Slow down, big ears.” I remember the night he banged that girl on the stairs at Temptations. He had just met her and he was already calling her “DollfaceAnd you know what? She looked exactly like a doll when it came to her face. He was perceptive like that.

On top of being smart, Rod also had great style. He always looked like a player, especially when he rolled. All I need to say is “wifebeater and fedora” and anyone who knew Rod knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Even though he was cool, Rod never forgot where he came from. Probably because he never actually left where he came from. Sure, Rod used to talk about moving out of his parents’ house someday, but he also talked about just chillin’ there to see if he could eventually inherit it or something. Rod was a patient guy.

When I was asked to give Rod’s eulogy, so many memories started to go through my head: working out at the gym with Rod, drinking, tanning, playing video games, the time we double-teamed that drunk chick in the hotel Jacuzzi. Rod was a true friend. If you needed advice or a condom, he would give it to you, no questions asked. And he always had great sunglasses. Of course, he would never let you touch them, but you couldn’t blame him. They were really expensive and they looked awesome on him.

“Bros before hos.” That’s what Rod used to say. He was loyal to his friends. But, at the same time, if he really wanted to nail a girl, he would find a way to make it happen, even if it meant taking her from one of his friends. That might sound weird or like a paradox or something. I guess it was. That was part of what made Rod interesting. He was unpredictable and mysterious. Ladies loved it. I can tell you that for a fact. Rod was a legend when it came to getting ladies to meet “Rod’s rod” as he called it.

Rod was such a funny guy. He was always quick with a joke or a punch to your nuts if you weren’t looking or if you dozed off or something. And if there happened to be someone around who
had a weakness or some kind of an insecurity, Rod knew just how to focus right in on it and turn it into a good joke, especially if there was a bunch of us there to egg him on. And if that person got upset about it, Rod would just keep going at it until they learned to lighten up. That’s the kind of guy Rod was. He’d make you laugh but he’d also make you think. You’d think, “I hope he doesn’t do that to me.” And you always knew that if you turned it around on him he’d kick your ass. He was a true leader.

People always noticed Rod. Whether it was his cologne or the bass booming from his Hummer. Rod was the kind of guy you just could not ignore. He used to crank that thing up so loud that people in other cars would look over and shake their heads like “Man, I wish I had a system like that.”

A lot of people don’t know this, but Rod really knew how to have fun with a sunroof, probably better than anyone I ever knew. He would stand up in the open sunroof of a limo and scream out of it for blocks and blocks. He didn’t care. He made people on Spring break look like pussies. Rod was on permanent Spring break. For real. I mean, sometimes he would drink so much that he would just start punching anybody who came near him.

Rod also had a creative side. One look at his hair told you that. And if you tried to touch it, good luck with your broken fingers.

Rod would light up a room whenever he walked into it, literally, with a flashlight, when he was working as a bouncer. He used to shine at’s light onto girls’ butts or right at their tits. He made everyone feel like a star. Rod was the kind of guy you wanted to be like, because he was no nonsense. I remember one time when he wouldn’t let some little geek into the club after the geek kept saying “But my fiancée’s in there!” Rod finally belted the guy and shut him up right then and there. The policy was no geeky guys allowed in, period, and Rod honored it, because he was a professional. He was really dedicated to his job. Sometimes there would be a fight going on and Rod would just join in and pummel whoever looked weaker. And I mean
pummel
. Talk about professional.

Rod had a lot of honor. If someone bumped into his shoulder in a club or gave him attitude, he would not put up with that shit. You didn’t mess with his honor, because if you did you got a beat-down. Plain and simple. There aren’t a lot of people who stick to their principles like that nowadays. A lot of them pussy out or want to try to talk their way out of a situation. Not Rod. He was always man enough to let his fists do the talking. And they talked to anyone who needed to listen, including chicks who thought they could get away with their bullshit.