by Clive Gresswell
Holy-Furr Fatman said to Bobin. you mean we can’t go out if there’s any villains needing capture because of the pandemic. Then Fatman said it again. Just for effect and emphasis. You know like he and Bobin did with their speech bubbles like THWACK and BAM and so on and so forth and etc. Fatman decided he had to give Bobin a bit of encouragement man to eerr boy. “Well, there’s still lots of good things we can do indoors in The Fatcave,” he told his enthusiastic young side-kick. But his pep-talk was only half-hearted because he didn’t really believe it. Lots of the other comic superheroes were feeling pretty fed-up and sick too. Most were concerned that the Supervillains would ignore Government medical advice to stay indoors because of the pandemic. It was just asking for trouble to ban superheroes from the comic book streets when crooks such as The Poker, The Didler and even Dr Orange would just walk round grabbing whatever they wanted from the supermarkets, shops, chemists and restaurants. Holy Wow!, thought Fatman, it didn’t bear thinking about, but he didn’t say it aloud this time. Surely if they wore some sort of PPE under their super-costumes they could still help avert total riots and lawlessness. They could keep their distance and not touch members of the public and that would be fine thought the crusader. Bobin reminded him that his cape would need disinfecting when they got back to the Fat Cave at Clay Manor as there would be Covid all over it. Fatman shrugged and stuck his tongue out in a completely immature way then giggled. Bobin had noticed he’d been doing a lot of out of character things like this lately and he wondered once again, and not for the first time, if his guardian was fully Okay in the head. “Sure I am, don’t worry so much son. Lighten up. Live a bit dangerously,” Bobin heard Fatman say in his ear.
Bobin asked what they would they do if the villains started to rampage through Wratham or any other towns? “Would we go or would we stay now,” he said.
Fatman gasped. Either they or the villains might be carrying the virus anyway and it gave him a headache thinking about it all. Hopefully not with a fever or a cough. “I don’t know what to do for the best, which isn’t like me at all,” said Fatman who had suddenly changed stealthily into his Sam Wayne clothes. All of the other superheroes on seeing Sam in his plain clothes in a television charity special shrugged and changed back to their own closely guarded secret identities too. Thick Rayson was thinking: “When it comes down to it they’re all a bunch of cowards now. No more heroes anymore.”
He started to write these words to a tune going round in his head for ‘Fatman The Musical’ which had been commissioned by some arts’ channel or other. Bobin was just getting into writing a new end in which there really were no more heroes.