Super Born: Seduction of Being by kkornell Page A

By now I had to confess I was in love with
her, all of her…crap. Did I just say all
that? What’s wrong with me?
    No way I’d let her read that, risk
her saying something crushing like, “I’m sorry, I never thought of
you that way.” Ouch! I remembered the six months and years of emotional energy I’d
wasted on courting Karen, just to hear that one. When she got the
flowers I sent to her office on her birthday she told me how
I’d embarrassed her
in front of everyone. Or how about, “You’re just not my type.” That
came from Mia, the bitch. For a full year I was her type. Three or
four nights a week, she screamed I was her type. Then a doctor
winks at her and I’m no longer in the picture. Crap, if I wasn’t
even Mia’s type, how could I be a superhero’s type? I was risking
rejection by foolishly hanging out my feelings like that. If
revenge is a dish best served cold, then rejection is a dish I just
wasn’t prepared to even order. In fact, I make a point of leaving
any restaurant that has rejection on the menu….even as a side
dish…even if I have a discount coupon. No way, Jose, she’ll never
read this.
    * * *
    I stood fifth in line at my bank like a
regular, everyday woman dressed in black. As the line moved slowly,
I glanced at my watch, not wanting to be late for work and earn the
wrath of Old Prune Face. She had already written me up once for
being late. One of the tellers was busy counting rolls of pennies
and dimes for an old man, while the other was arguing with a man
over bounced check charges. I sighed. No lunch again
today.
    That was when three men ran into the bank with
ski masks, shouting, ordering everyone to the ground. One thug
stood by the door and the other two moved toward the tellers.
“Tellers, hands in the air where I can see them. Anyone touching a
silent alarm is the first shot. Everyone else, get on the floor.
Anyone who doesn’t get down right now is dead!” said the leader
nearest the tellers.
    People screamed and dove to the ground. The
tellers nervously held up their arms and looked at one another for
a clue as to what to do.
    The leader seemed to be getting off on watching
all those he commanded. When he saw me defying him, standing with
my back to him in front of a fake potted palm tree, he was first
surprised, then pissed off.
    I dropped my bag and my deposits. When I turned
to face the leader, I had the black mask over my face and said,
“You’re gonna make me late for work. Do you really have to do this
today?”
    The leader’s eyes turned to fire. “You don’t
wanna listen, do ya, bitch?” he said, determined to make an example
of me. “Just who do you think you are? Maybe you think you’re that
woman in black everybody’s talkin’ about…What da they call her?…The
Bib. You the Bib lady?”
    “ It’s not Bib. They call her
B.I.B.,” the thug nearest us corrected.
    “ My mistake,” the leader said
sarcastically, moving in closer to me and raising his gun, “You the
B.I.B. lady? If not, you’re in big trouble. Now, sit your ass
down!”
    I moved slowly toward him. “Oh! This must be
what they meant by ‘stupid is as stupid does.’”
    He aimed his gun at the center of my body. With
his veins full of adrenaline and a sadistic grin on his face, he
pulled the trigger of his 9 mm four times. His shots totally wasted
the plastic palm tree and pot that had been behind me. As he felt
his wrist break and watched his gun drop to the floor, his
expression changed to shock and amazement. After I delivered a
hammer fist blow to the back of his head, he slipped down to the
floor.
    The thug by the door watched in horror. Seeing
what I had done to his friends, he tore off his mask, pulled open
the bank door, and was gone in a flash.
    The third thug looked at the limp body of the
leader with his badly mangled wrist as he lay unmoving on the
floor. He dropped his gun and put his hands out in front of him.
“Hey, I don’t want no trouble!”
    “ Then I guess