The green shiny spandex suit clung to Brady's body, emphasizing his beer belly and man-boobs. It wasn't too flattering in the crotch area either; a sock may be needed. He moved back a few paces from his reflection, hoping distance would make the costume appear more flattering. He sucked in his gut and stuck out his un-toned chest. His hand pushed back his unruly black locks. Note to self, need a hair cut. Superheroes had nice slick hair.
Brady glanced over his shoulder at his back view. The blinding yellow cape spun in motion. At least it covered his love handles. Should someone who possesses such important power really care about their physical appearance? He should be more confident now. Peering at his bulging frame did little to ease his mind.
"What are you doing?"
Brady's breath caught in his throat and he jumped back at least a foot, slamming his girth into the full-length mirror. It toppled to the ground, glass shattering on impact with the hardwood floor.
His wife, Linda, tapped her high-heeled foot; the sound hung in the silent aftermath. Her hands were on the waist of her blue silk dress. The angry line between her eyes marred her otherwise beautiful face. She looked thinner than usual, her face pale, though he'd never tell her that. Mentioning any flaw on his wife was just begging for backlash. Plus in the over-irritated mood she'd been in lately, he was sure she may do him physical harm if he uttered such words.
Pieces of his green and yellow reflection stared from the floor. He had to admit, he looked more imposing in the little shards of glass than he did in the big picture.
"Well, are you going to answer me?"
Brady felt like a little kid in the principal's office. His wife had this effect on him, especially after his clumsiness destroyed anything she prized, like the antique mirror laying in shambles at his feet.
"I was just … umm … "
Brady straightened up. He hated the apologetic tone in his voice. Superheroes were supposed to be hard-asses, not wimps. Brady cleared his throat and continued in a gruffer, more gallant tone.
"I was trying on my new uniform. If I'm going to be a superhero, I have to at least look the part, Linda."
Brady placed his hands on his hips and attempted a valiant pose. Instead, his green latex boot slipped on a piece of wayward glass, and he fell backwards onto the bedroom floor. "We seriously need carpeting," Brady whispered under his breath while a dull pain throbbed in his buttocks.
"You talk to plants, Brady. They tell you if they are happy or sad. They don't say anything else. You have no control or influence over them. Seriously, how can you don a ridiculous outfit like that and claim to be a superhero?"
Brady's shoulders slumped under the bashing of her words. The jab about his outfit hit below the belt. He could admit the suit was a bit tight, but calling it ridiculous was taking matters too far.
"Linda, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were jealous."
Brady dared not face the glare that most likely followed his words. He reached for the garbage pail and started plucking up glass. Each bit made a soft clang as it landed in the container. The clangs battled in volume with the foot taps, but Linda's pointed snake-skin toes were currently in the lead.
"Jealous?"
The toe came to a sudden halt.
"In all honesty, Brady, I could care less if a plant was happy or sad, and there is no way on Earth I need them to vocalize those words to me. What I have is pity. I feel bad for you. Not just for this stupid gift you've acquired, but for the future ridicule that is sure to come from it."
Brady was convinced she was a wicked, wicked woman. As a superhero, he would need to overcome such scorn, and hold his head high. He would use her almost like a training method to face the masses. If he could win her over, then maybe, just maybe, he'd have a shot with the greater population.
"Where did you get that get-up from anyhow?"
Linda's lavender-painted fingernail pointed at his costume. By the look on her face, an odd combination of disgust and horror, you would think a rat just shit on her shoe.
"Me and Pinto had it made downtown. He thinks maybe he could be my sidekick or something. He got one, too. His is yellow with a green cape."
Laughter vibrated off the barren walls of the bedroom. Linda held her stomach and bent over, straining to catch her breath. Brady remembered Pinto modeling his new outfit in the backroom of Josie's Costume Shop. His skinny lab tech friend was maybe five-foot-two and weighed about a buck, if he carried a few rocks in his pocket. Pinto's knobby knees and protruding ribs cemented the fact that spandex accentuates all flaws. Brady closed his eyes and shook the memory back into the darkness of his mind.
At last, his dearest Linda was able to compose herself. She straightened her slender body and placed her hands back on their usual home, her hips. Brady stood from his inferior position on the floor, no longer feeling it was the place to be while his less-than-adoring wife mocked him and his sidekick.
"The sight of scrawny Pinto in a spandex suit just may rival the visual I have in front of me."
Brady glanced down surveying his glaring new attire. Maybe he didn't fill it out quite like the guys in Hollywood - well, maybe he filled it out too much - but he didn't think he looked that bad, either.
"The Big B across your chest. What does it stand for? Oh, let me guess … are you Super Brady?"
A snort escaped her mouth, revealing that she had not yet controlled her iniquitous hilarity. Brady puffed his chest out as far as he could without hurting himself. He folded his arms over his torso, then raised them over his head in defiance. His fists pumped the air. Though he looked more like an over-zealous fan at a rock concert than a superhero, he continued his entrance like he'd practiced.
"I am … Botanical!"
Brady's lowered his arms dramatically and placed his hands on the roll of fat that used to be his hip. His right foot stepped forward, and he held his chin high. He averted his wife's gaze. The loud ticking of her tongue was enough to warn him.
"You are going to make a fool of yourself, Brady. Mark my words."
With her last dig firmly in place, she turned on her designer heels and made her way from their bedroom. Her stomping heels echoed down the hallway. A lump formed in Brady's throat. Superheroes don't cry. He repeated the words in his head, a mental mantra. Brady sat down on the king-sized bed. Judging by the coil pops, his body sank further into the mattress than the manufacturer intended.
"So sad …"
The tiny voice invaded his super-auditory senses. His blue eyes darted towards the source, a medium fica plant in the corner. Its green foliage wilted and hung low, various tips touching the terra cotta pot. Brady rushed from the bed and kneeled next to the plant.
"What is it, buddy?"
Brady's pudgy fingers caressed the smooth leaves. Some of the dry brown undersides broke off and floated to the ground. Brady gasped, rose from the floor and ran to the bathroom to retrieve water. This plant needed fluids!
Brady grabbed the tall glass on the green tile counter-top. In his rush to fill the glass, he soaked his green sleeve, just another hurdle in the life of a super-being.
Brady rushed back to the fica and poured the cool liquid into its dried soil. A sharp scream pierced his ears as the dirt turned a dusty brown to black. The hairs on Brady's neck stood at attention.
"Sad!"
Brady eyed the empty glass in his grip. He raced from the room in search of a way to help this poor victim.
He returned three minutes later, bottled water in hand. He panted and held the cramp forming on his left side while he poured the spring water over the plant's roots.
The fica's leaves lifted upward. Brady breathed a sigh of relief.
"Happy."
Brady smiled, but only for a short moment. The dread of the situation materialized. It was up to him to get to the bottom of this calamity! He ran to the bathroom, empty bottle in hand. Then, with the speed of any other average overweight guy with a super hero costume on, he raced from the room in pursuit of discovery.
*
Linda stood in their modern kitchen accompanied by a plethora of stainless steel appliances. She felt weak and grabbed the granite counter for support. Steadying herself, she turned on the sink. The cold water felt nice against her clammy hands. She splashed some water over her face, hoping to flush away the odd feeling building the past few days. She recollected the way she spoke to Brady earlier and shook her head. Maybe she was just a little hard on him. She removed a glass from a cabinet and placed it under the cold stream.
"No!"
Brady bolted through the kitchen door and knocked the glass from his stunned wife's hand, crashing into the porcelain sink. He pushed her to safety before any stray glass could slice her hands.
"Brady, have you completely lost your mind?"
All thoughts of apologizing for her prior cruelty went out the window.
"Look, Linda. I think the water is tainted. My sources are following this up as we speak. I can't let you drink any until his findings are confirmed."
Linda's eyes narrowed into thin slits of disdain.
"Please don't tell me you left the house dressed like that."
Brady shrugged off the rhetoric question.
"Look, Linda—"
"No, you look, Brady. Where did you get this crazy idea? And who may I ask are your 'sources'?"
She did the exaggerated quotation mark gesture with her fingers. Her tone suggested she didn't exactly share his enthusiasm.
"Um, Pinto. He's running tests at his lab. And I spoke to the mayor."
Brady was unaware, until now, his wife's eyes could bulge.
"Look, Brady, I've about had it … As of now, I want you and all these plants out of . . ."
Linda's tirade broke when the signature breaking news warning drifted from the television. A dour-faced newscaster stared from the screen; his expression meant business.
"This just in … All citizens of Saffron City are urged not to consume any tap water."
Linda's head spun towards the faucet. In all the commotion, she forgot to turn it off. The water flow stopped.
"The city is now in the process of shutting down the main water line. The water is contaminated. I repeat, do not under any circumstances consume any tap water. It is extremely dangerous. This was brought to the attention of the mayor today by this man, who identified himself only as Botanical."
The screen behind the reporter's left shoulder showed a still of Brady with the mayor. If Linda's mouth had the ability to drop to the floor, this would have been the moment.
"Again, do not consume any tap water. More on this story coming up on the four o'clock news."
Linda stared at the television, then at her green and yellow-clad husband.
"Oh my God! Brady! You are a hero!"
Linda hugged him tight. Brady smiled. He snuggled closer and whispered into her honey-scented hair, "Actually, when in costume, I prefer Botanical."
