Who Writes This Stuff?

It’s Friday afternoon and I’m at the Stanley Lloyd Kaufman Middle school in Sunman, Indiana, a godforsaken place where there is no cell phone reception for miles, winningest is considered a proper word, and the value of a man is the number of inches his lift kit adds to his pick-up.

I’m here officially to cover a Hugs not Drugs lecture by Jose Canyousee, General Welfare’s teenage sidekick. I’m here unofficially because supervillains hinted that something might be going down. I’m sitting in a folding chair in the back row and I’m wearing a business casual ensemble so I don’t stand out. I have a hefty camera so I look like a press photographer and I used an old press pass to get in (you wouldn’t believe the security in public schools these days). I’ve also got a flak jacket under my clothes that I picked up at the police uniform supply store. The damn thing cost a fortune and I honestly don’t think it will provide much protection if death rays and laser beams start zapping around the room, but I might as well do what I can.

It’s two o’clock by the time the auditorium is full and kids between the ages of eleven and fifteen (I figure there must be a few flunkies) sit talking to their friends and appearing generally unexcited about the coming performance. A few teachers have to snap their fingers and shoosh the rowdier students when the lights go down. The show opens with an over-the-hill volunteer band and some rejected Disney World backup dancers doing a lame song about the dangers of drug use. I spot more than one Bob Marley shirt in the crowd of kids during this time.

At the end of the musical number Jose comes out amidst a howling high note introduction from the dance crew and starts telling the kids about the dangers of drug use. He’s wearing his trademark spandex American flag costume with cowboy chaps. I think his intentions are good, but this doesn’t seem to be a good way to reach these kids. Looking around the room I notice quite a few of them are more interested in their cell phones than what is happening on stage. That all changes in seconds.

An explosion rocks the building as the rear auditorium doors are blasted off their hinges. Hammerspace steps into the building pointing the Mallet of Malice at Jose across the crowded room. He issues a threat in his thunderous villain voice. “Jose, can you see your demise at my hands!”

Remarkably, the entire crowd is unshaken. Everyone is paying attention now, but no one seems upset. It takes a moment for me to realize they all think this is part of the show. I, knowing this not to be the case, am ironically more unsettled than everyone else.

“The Trenchcoat!” shouts Jose from the stage.

“It’s Hammerspace, dick!” reprimands the villain.”

“I’ve already sent a distress call to General Welfare, Trenchcoat. Your days as a criminal mastermind are numbered!”

“Even at his fastest, General Welfare can’t get here in time to stop me from killing you!”

“Whoa! The k word? In front of the kids? That’s totally not cool.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to say destroy or vanquish or annihilate or something. Nobody says the k word. It’s just unprofessional.”

I’m caught off guard and I can see that Hammerspace is too. Jose has obviously been out of the game for a while. That or he’s been in it for way too long.

“And even if you capture me and put me in your fastest acting death trap, the General will have time to get here and save me, so do your best, Trenchcoat!” he continues.

Hammerspace pulls a shotgun out of his jacket and shoots Jose in the guts. In truly diabolical fashion, he does this over the heads of several rows of students, who I’m fairly certain are able to feel the buckshot whizzing by their hair. He approaches the stage calmly as Jose attempts to crawl away.

“A gun! Guns are for cowards and losers-“ he utters before Hammerspace finishes him off with another barrel full of buckshot.

“Oh, but I’ve won here,” Hammerspace says, turning to face the audience. “Go children! Run! Flee! Tell everyone what you have seen here today! Tell them so they may never forget the name of Hammerspace!” With that, he launches into a classic evil cackle that reverberates through the room. The boom mic picks it up and it echoes even more loudly. It reaches a deafening level as the children and the school faculty run panic stricken from the auditorium. I take cover behind some bleachers and continue to watch Hammerspace.

Once the room is empty, except for the two of us (and Jose’s cadaver), I ask Hammerspace exactly what he’s attempting here. “Killing the sidekick is a big move for any supervillain. If you want to establish yourself as the number one archnemesis, you have to kill someone really close to the hero,” he answers. “That’s why I tried to kill Welfare’s woman a few weeks ago, but it turned out she was just some girl he went on one date with so I gave up on that.” He has a point. After all, where would Green Goblin or Joker be had they not murdered Gwen Stacy and Jason Todd? As much as Hammerspace claims to dislike comic book characters, he draws a lot of his ideas from them.

Moments later, Hammerspace is gone, having discarded his costume and walked out of the building appearing like any normal schmoe. The usefulness of an alter ego hadn’t quite demonstrated itself to me until now. As a normal guy, I tend to focus on the super side of everything. Super beings are very much the opposite. For them, the every day alter ego seems to be the more exciting. And it makes sense. After all, being super is their job, and which would you rather be? Yourself or yourself at work?

The secret identity, in fact, is arguably stronger than the super identity. It is easily more dangerous, because you don’t see it coming. You never see it coming.

And so I’m still in the auditorium hours later interviewing police when General Welfare crashes through the concrete wall nearby and storms up to the stage. A few cops look like they might want to restrain him, and they almost begin to, but then their better judgment impedes them and they just stop what they’re doing and stare helplessly. He leaps up on to the stage and cradles Jose’s crumpled body in his arms. He shrieks “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

“YES!” Shouts Hammerspace as he drops from a catwalk above the stage. No one saw this coming. He’s been here the whole time.

“You! I’ll kill you!” screams General Welfare.

“Oh, please, Welfare. We all know you have a strict no killing policy.”

The General picks up a nearby cop and takes his gun, throwing the cop aside. He points the gun at Hammerspace and fires wildly. Hammerspace pulls his trench coat open wide like a perverted old man in a Chuck E Cheese. The bullets are sucked into another dimension.

Hammerspace cackles madly. “A feeble attempt from a feeble hero!” he taunts. “Soon you will join your pathetic boy child in oblivion!”

Welfare doesn’t say anything. He rushes Hammerspace like a stampede on the Serengeti. I dive behind a theater seat, afraid there might be a shockwave from the impact when Welfare hits him. Instead, there is nothing.

I stand up from behind the chair and see the bottoms of General Welfare’s boots disappearing into Hammerspace’s trench coat. Hammerspace turns to face the small army of police surrounding him. Some of them pull guns but he shouts them down.

“Fire at me and you risk hitting your precious hero!” he says. No one shoots, even though this is entirely illogical. General Welfare is completely invincible. He takes missiles in the face like gnats hitting a windshield. I doubt bullets would offend him.

The police are powerless to stop him, and so Hammerspace simply walks out of the building and vanishes.

Next Week: Hammerspace takes over the city. Hilarity ensues.