The Java From Hell

1.

I should’ve seen it coming when I first saw it. When I saw my guy pal Bob Bloch- flying.

Literally!

I found that a particular affront, considering that, underneath my modest disguise of a human being like you and everyone else on this planet, I am, in fact (cue the echo chamber):

MUSCLE GIRL, THE MOST POWERFUL PREPUBESCENT FEMALE IN THE UNIVERSE!

(Cough, cough.)

And, as such, I am the only being capable of actually flying in my small but picturesque hometown of Bleakly Corners, Manitoba, Canada.

At least, I thought so.

That was, until I saw, in the guise of my secret “human” identity, Gerda “couldn’t punch herself out of a wet paper sack” Munsinger, my aforementioned confederate and confidant as high as a kite- in more ways than one.

But it wasn’t what you’re thinking. The chances of us getting coke, heroin, or hash in a town this small, even with us being plunked on the shores of Lake Winnipeg as we are, are slim to none. Consequently, the hardest drugs we can get exposed to here are alcohol and caffeine. As politically impotent pre-teens, I and my peers are not allowed to consume alcohol by the perennially drunken city fathers, and are warned often about the supposedly damaging effects of consuming caffeinated beverages, particularly the condescending belief that it will “rot” our teeth- and our brains. Huh?

Unfortunately, it seemed like Bob had got himself a taste of a particularly potent caffeinated drink, ‘cause he looked totally buzzed, even from the height he was sailing at from my particularly earth-bound vantage point.

If I was Muscle Girl at that moment, I would’ve flown up there and slapped him solid to get him back to consciousness (gently, of course.) But I was Gerda then, so I had to play it (relatively) nicer, owing that that’s the rep she has and MG sure doesn’t.

“Bob!” I said, hands on hips. “What are you doing?”

He babbled a bit in a way that even my advanced intellect couldn’t penetrate. So I decided on another approach.

“Get down here!” I ordered. “NOW!”

I put a little bit of Muscle Girl sternness into the words so he’d know I meant business, even though I used my more girlish “Gerda” voice. It gave it the motherly “order” flare I wanted, and he descended to Earth, where he belongs.

“What the h….what