The Continued Adventures of Superheroman & Sidekickboy – Chapter 2
By day, mild-mannered Orenthal James Coleman & Donald Cherry work for an olive oil company. By night (and sometimes day as well), they become Superheroman & Sidekickboy.
Chapter Two – The Case of the Halted Heist
All of Oil Olive Oil Inc. salesman Orenthal James Coleman ventures down to the mailroom where he spies Donald Cherry being smooched on the cheek by a ravishing brunette.
The brunette sashays out of the mailroom, giving OJ a look as he enters.
“Lil Donnie, who on Earth was that dashing dalliance?”
“My girlfriend, Tawny.”
“I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”
“Sure. Don’t you?”
OJ shakes his head. “I’m too busy devoting my life to serving up justice one superheroic punch at a time.”
“Which is why I’ve come to you today, my trusty friend. Trouble is afoot.”
Donald starts collating the outgoing mail. “How so?”
“A local biker gang by the name of Death’s Crusaders is planning to knock down the Second National Bank.”
“Bank-robbing bikers burgling big bucks? My god.”
“Precisely. And we’re going to infiltrate the gang and stop them before they make off with the dough.”
“Guess we’re gonna need–“
OJ holds up two coat hangers. “Leather jackets. Way ahead of you.”
Sidekickboy struts down a sweltering summer street in the seedy south side of Iron City, sweating profusely in a leather jacket, leather pants and boots. Superheroman waddles next to his sidekick, his leather jacket and assless chaps stretched tight over his Superheroman costume underneath.
“Why are you wearing your Superheroman suit under the biker gang disguise?”
“I am Superheroman.”
The cowhide-clad caped crusaders swagger into The Sloppy Spitbucket, a dive bar’s dive bar the Death’s Crusaders are known to frequent.
A towering biker steps in front of the pair. “What do you pipsqueaks want?”
Superheroman’s voice cracks, pipsqueakingly. “We’re here to see Rusty LaRue.”
An older long-haired, scarred man comes out from behind the towering hulk, broken beer bottle in hand. “Who’s askin’?”
“I’m Sup–er, Soupy Sales and this is Sidek–uh, Psycho Randy. We heard you got a job coming up and we’d like to lend a hand.”
“Who were you runnin’ with before this?”
“The, uh, Killer…Clowns?”
“Outta Fredericksburg? Yeah, I heard of them.”
Superheroman breathes a sigh of relief.
“Why’d you just breathe that sigh of relief?”
“Is that a cape under your jacket?”
“Where are your bikes?”
“Mine’s in the shop and Psycho Randy’s is, um…”
Superheroman looks at Sidekickboy, who panics and shrugs. “Bike Jail?”
Rusty nods. “Cool. You can ride in Big Jim’s sidecar. Cape Boy can hop on back of my hog. Time to take out a loan, boys.”
Superheroman & Sidekickboy are standing guard in the lobby of the Second National Bank.
“I just think it’s rude that you got a girlfriend without consulting with me.”
Sidekickboy frowns. “Why would I have to consult with you in my personal life? We’re partners, not…partners.”
“I just think if you have a girlfriend, I should have a girlfriend too is all. Fair is fair.”
“That is a psychotic line of reasoning.”
“Well, I’m Psycho Randy.”
“No, I’m Psycho Randy. You’re Soupy Sales.”
“Why do you get a cooler name than me.”
“YOU CAME UP WITH THE NAMES!”
Rusty LaRue & Big Jim sprint out of the bank vault and lift their ski masks. “Alright, boys. We got the cash, let’s skedaddle.”
Superheroman shakes his head. “Did you check the safe deposit boxes? Could be rubies and emeralds in there.”
“Nice thinkin’, Soupy.”
The bikers race back towards the vault as Sidekickboy stares at Superheroman, who rolls his eyes.
“What kind of hardcore biker says ‘skedaddle’?”
“Superheroman, we came here to foil a robbery. Now you’ve got them stealing more?”
“I’m just still cheesed off about the whole girlfriend thing.”
Rusty walks up behind the two and motions to Big Jim. “Ice ’em.”
Big Jim cocks his shotgun and the heroes spin around.
“Rusty! The heck?” Superheroman exclaims, his voice cracking again.
“You know, I was thinkin’ back in that vault. I remember now, the Killer Klowns are all in prison or dead after a meth lab explosion. If you guys aren’t in prison, then you either ratted them out or you’re cops.”
Superheroman drops to his knees. “We’re not cops, we’re superheroes!”
Rusty sneers. “There’s no such thing as superheroes.”
A shot rings out above the bikers’ heads and they book it for the rear exit. The heroes turn to find Det. Jessie Ventura holstering her weapon.
Sidekickboy marvels. “Detective, how did you know we were here?”
“Got a text from this one that simply read ‘foiling a robbery at 2nd nat’l, lunch after?’.”
Superheroman nods. “And I was just about to foil it until you showed up.”
“I saved your lives!”
“You just participated in one of the biggest bank robberies in the history of this state.”
“So that’s a no on the lunch.”
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