Chapters

The Cover for the story, from around 1995

The Prologue...

"Stop the prologue!"

All right!  Who's interrupting the narrator?  You're not supposed to interrupt the narrator!  It isn't professional or polite!

"It's me, Super Irving.  You know, the guy that the story's about?  The Super Irving of "Super Irving to the Rescue"?  Anyway, I want to complain about the prologue so far.  I got ran over by a three-year old on a tricycle once, so I'm not more powerful than one!  Besides, tricycles scare me.  Can you change that part?

No!  Now leave me along!  I'm trying to do my job as a narrator here!  Ahem...Able to leap tall coffee cups in a single bound--

"Hey!  Stop the prologue!  The last time I tried to jump over a coffee mug, my foot got stuck in it and I crashed onto the pavement and got a nasty boo-boo.  See?  It's right here on my elbow?  My mommy said--"

Ahem!  That's right.  Super Irving!  Defender of the clueless!  Strange visitor from the distant planet of Jackson V--

"Mr. Narrator?"

What is it now?!

"I'm not from a distant alien planet.  I'm from Cleveland!  Even though I live in New York now, I mean--"

Alien planet, Cleveland.  What's the difference?  Besides, all super heroes have some sort of weird history.  You either need to be an alien or be certifiably toxic...Hey!  Do you mind?!  Stop interrupting me!  Let's finish this stupid prologue already!  Ahem.  Super Irving defends accuracy, equity, and North American customs--

"I thought that was 'truth, justice, and the American way'"

It's copyrighted!  Now you've done it!  I warned you!  I told you to stop interrupting me!  But noooo, you didn't listen!  Well fine!  I'm not going to finish the prologue!  Go ahead and do the story without me!  I quit!

"But I need a narrator!  How can we do a super hero story without a narrator?"

Hmm...you may be right.  Well, maybe if you're good, I'll narrate later.  Now, go start the story!  No one will read this if the main character just argues with the narrator!  Go--
 

And now, the Story...
 

Part 1: A Grocery List and Punks

Unfortunately, just then he remembered that he couldn't fly.

Luckily, he had jumped out of a first story window.  "Ouch!" he said, hitting the pavement with a lout thud.  Super Irving stood up and brushed off the knees of his tights.  "Darn!  I keep forgetting!"

Super Irving started walking towards the store.  It was a lovely day.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the flowers were in bloom, the neighborhood punks were spray painting obscenities onto a fence...

The punks set down their spray paint as Super Irving strolled by.  "Hey!" shouted one particularly mean looking punk sporting a neon green mohawk.  "Look at the freak!" he said, grabbing Our Hero from behind.  The punk's friends closed in around their leader and his victim like a bunch of sharks focusing their attention on the same kill.

"Look at the little geek!" one said, his gold tooth gleaming, as he poked Super Irving.

"Ooh, nice glasses!" said another, pulling off Super Irving's taped up glasses.  The punk put on the glasses.  "Hey, look at me!  I'm a little geek!" he said in his nasal voice.

"Hey!  Give those back!" whined Our Hero.  His arms flailed helplessly as he struggled to reach his eye wear as he dangled by the back of his shirt from a punk's hand.

"Ooh!" sneered the leader.  "The little geek's getting feisty on us!  We'd better watch out!" he mocked.  "What are you gonna do about it, shrimp?"

"I'll lick you all!  I'm a super hero!"

Super Irving just sort of hung there, his face reddening, as the pack of punks roared with laughter.  "I am too a super hero!"  That only brought on even more laughter from the now hysterical punks.  "Look!  See?  I have a cape!  That means I am a super hero!"

"It means you're one deranged little *$#%!" snorted the gold toothed punk, wiping tears of mirth from one eye.

"All super heroes have capes.  And the tights!  All super heroes wear tights!  And if all super heroes have capes and wear tights, I must be a super hero!"

"Which mental institution did you escape form anyway, you little freak?" queried the head punk, still chuckling.

"None!  I'm a super hero!  Now put me down, or you'll be sorry!"  The punks starting laughing again.  "I mean it!  Put me down right this instant!  I'll show you all!"

"Ooh!" squealed the punk with the nasal voice.  "You'd better put 'em down and make a run for it, Earl!  He's gonna hurt us all!"

"Earl?!  Your name is Earl and you're picking on me?!" blurted our Our Hero incredulously.

"So what if my name is Earl?  You're not in a position to be pickin' on me, little freak!  You should've just stayed all quiet like.  Now we're gonna pound you!"  suddenly Super Irving was painfully flung onto the pavement.  All five punks circled around where Our Hero had fallen, all banging their clenched fists against their palms.  A punk with a nose ring lunged at Super Irving and the others followed suit.

Surely Our Hero must have a strategy to foil these fiendish foes!  Surely he will subdue this sadistic set of street scum!  How will he do to halt the havoc?  What is his dazzling design to defeat the dervishes?  How will he rout these ruffians?

Super Irving had an ingenious plan: he promptly passed out.
 

Part 2: Helping a Little Old Lady Cross the Street and More Bruises

"Those darn punks!" he muttered, brushing off his cape.  "What this town needs is a super hero to clean it up...What am I saying?!  I am a super hero!"  Super Irving picked up his bent glasses from where they had been flung during the rumble.  He straightened his spectacles and continued cautiously down the sidewalk.

Without further incident, Our Hero came to the crosswalk across the street from Bob's Buy It All.  There was an elderly lady waiting patiently for the Don't Walk sign to light up so that she could cross.  Since Super Irving was so gracious, he decided to help the nice old lady cross the street.  "May I help you cross the street, ma'am?" he politely offered.

"Why?" she suspiciously asked.

Super Irving was stunned.  "Why, because I'm a boy scout, and that's the sort of thing that we do."

The old lady eyed him apprehensively.  "Aren't you a little old to be a boy scout?" she asked pointedly.

"I'm the oldest member," he said proudly.  "So, may I help you, ma'am?"

"The name's Rosa, so don't call me ma'am.  It makes me feel old.  And I'm telling you, I don't need help!"  She pushed him away and started to walk out into traffic.

"Don't!" yelled Our Hero, grabbing onto Rosa's sleeve and pulling her backward.

Rosa turned around angrily.  "Now lookee here, buddy, I've been living in New York City for fifty years now, and I don't suddenly need help crossing streets from little weirdoes in tights!"  She forcibly pushed Super Irving aside and stepped out amidst a barrage of tire squeals.  "Ah, shut up already!" Rosa yelled testily at the honking cabs, hitting one with her cane.

Our Hero decided there was only one thing to do: he dashed out into traffic behind her, narrowly escaping being hit by a tour bus.  "Stop, Rosa!" he shouted.  He dodged a limo and finally caught up to the old lady.  He made a running dive and feebly attempted to tackle her.

He missed.

Rosa turned around with an indignant look upon her face.  "I told you, I don't need help!  Now leave me alone, you annoying little mutant, or I'll call the cops!"  She turned around and started walking away from the intersection that they were blocking.

"But--"

"I said leave me alone!"  Rosa turned around and hit Super Irving over the head fervently and repeatedly with her cane, then ran across the street.  Beaten senseless, Our Hero groggily stood up and attempted to stagger to the opposite side.

Just then, the taxi hit him.
 

 Part 3: The Paramedics, the Cops, and the Bank

"Oh good!" exclaimed Paul the Paramedic.  "You're awake.  You're scraped up pretty bad, you've got a mild concussion, and your thumb is broken, but other than that, you're fine.  You're just lucky that that cab wasn't going any faster or I'd have had to scrape you off the pavement with a spatula."

All the while Paul was tending to Our Hero's infirmities.  He was now bandaging up the broken thumb.  "You're also lucky that Rosa was nice enough to call 911 when she reached the other side.  What kind of a maniac are you anyway?  Why couldn't you leave that nice little old lady alone?"

"You know Rosa?" Our Hero dazedly asked.  He had not quite recovered enough from his lost bout with the cab to follow most of what Paul was saying.

"Yeah, sure.  I met her via her grandson Ricardo, who I also had to pull out from beneath a cab once.  And a tour bus.  Never met a kid more accident prone than him!  She's a sweet lady; just don't annoy her."

Paul gave Super Irving a once over, then handed him the bill.  "And I don't want to have to see you again!  Nothing personal.  By the way, what's with the cape?"  Paul then climbed into the back of the ambulance and drove off.  Our Hero quickly left the blocked intersection before he could get ran over again.

Once across the street, Super Irving headed for Bob's Buy It All.  Just then, he was stopped by a police officer.  "Hold it right there, buddy.  You're not going anywhere," the cop said, grabbing hold of Our Hero's cape.

"Yes, Officer?" he asked politely.

"I'm Officer Jackson.  NYPD.  Are you Irving Jones, alias 'Super Irving'?" he asked.

"Yes I am, sir.  What seems to be the problem?"

"I've gotten a lot of complaints concerning you.  I'm giving you a ticket for blocking an intersection," Officer Jackson said, writing it out.  He tore it off the pad and handed to Our Hero.  "I'm also giving you a ticket for assaulting a nice old lady like Rosa."  He handed Super Irving another ticket.  "And I'm giving you a ticket for dressing funny."  He handed Our Hero yet another ticket.  Then Officer Jackson scratched his head, as if wondering what other tickets he could possibly give him.

Super Irving looked reluctantly at the tickets and then stuffed them into the pocket of this shorts.

"Oh!  By the way," said the cop, "I've got your wallet here.  We found it during the strip search we did on some punks we arrested for jaywalking.  Here you go."  He handed it to Our Hero.

Super Irving took the wallet and examined it.  It was torn up pretty badly.  It was also empty, except for his library card and his business cards that read "Super Irving."  It listed an address and phone number.  "Call for the finest in: rescuing, crime fighting, and accordion lessons."

Our Hero thanked the officer and promised that he'd pay the tickets when he got some money, since the punks had stolen all of his.  Then Super Irving took a detour down the street towards the bank to get some more money.

He walked into the revolving door of the Forty-second National Bank, hitting his head.  Then he got into the door.  Just as he was trying to step out of the door, someone else walked out through it, causing the door, and Our Hero, to spin uncontrollably and repeatedly.  When the door finally stopped, he fell down face first onto the floor.  "That was painful," Super Irving muttered.

Our Hero stiffly stood up and brushed off the knees of his tights.  Then he limped over to the teller window. He asked for two hundred dollars out his emergency fund.  The lady gave it to him.  He thanked the teller and shoved the bills into his worn wallet.  He stepped inside the revolving door and was once again knocked for a loop as someone entered from the other side.  He hit the pavement, this time on the outside of the building.  He propped himself up, looked at the ruined knees of his tights, groaned, and headed for Bob's Buy It All.
 

Part 4: Fun at the Supermarket

Super Irving grabbed a shopping cart from the rack, or he tried to.  When he looked back at the cart, he saw that it hadn't moved, so he grabbed at it again.  No luck.  This time getting a firm grip on the cart, Our Hero sharply yanked at it.  The cart refused to move.

"This calls for drastic measures," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves.  He braced himself, clenched his teeth, and pulled at the cart will all of his strength.  Sweating, Our Hero looked at the unyielding cart.  "Darn cart!" he grumbled, kicking the cart.

Just then he was flattened as the entire rack of carts came loose and rolled over him.

Super Irving crawled out from beneath the pileup of carts, and brushed himself off.  He grabbed one of the carts and pushed it down the produce aisle, it's bad wheel squeaking noisily.  He glanced at his miraculously still intact shopping list and threw a bunch of bananas into the cart.

Our Hero turned down the canned foods aisle.  His eyes scanned the list.  "Cream of mushroom soup," he said, tossing it into the cart, on top of the bananas.  "Spaghetti-Os."  The can clanked as it hit the soup.  "Sardines."  There was a clink as it glanced off of the pasta.  He hummed as he contemplated the list.  "Still need some Spam.  Hmm..."  Super Irving placed his hand over his glasses in that gesture that people use when looking for something.  He surveyed the aisle for the location of that incredible, inedible canned meat.  "Aha!" he exclaimed and bolted down the aisle.

There was a huge, eclipsing tower of the canned meat product.  "Ooh!  It's on sale!" he cheered.  Super Irving grabbed three cans from the bottom row of the display, causing the arrangement to shudder.  He tossed the cans into the cart and started to roll away.

A menacing shadow loomed over Our Hero.  "What the hey--" he said, turning around to see what it was.  He yelped and tried to run away from the falling display as it approached, but to no avail.  The impending wave of Spam came crashing down upon him and buried him.

"Ouch!" Super Irving whined.  Through the mound of Spam, he thought he could hear the PA system blaring, "Clean-up on Aisle 2."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of being entombed by Spam, the cans were lifted off of Our Hero by an annoyed kid in a uniform, with a broom.  "Are you all right, sir," the kid, whose name must've been Mike, since it was on his name tag, laconically asked.  Super Irving nodded as he busily brushed off his knees.  "Good.  Then my manager would like to speak to you."

Mike motioned to follow him and led Our Hero down the aisles to the manager's office, where an aggravated man in a suit stood with his arms folded angrily, tapping one foot.  "Well, Irving," he exasperatedly said, "you've done it again."

"Sorry, Bob, " Our Hero apologized.  "I'll be more careful next time."

"Next time?  That's what you said last time, when you knocked over the lobster tank and the lobsters attacked you and frightened the rest of the customers away.  And you said you'd be more careful the time before that.  And the time before that.  And before that."

"But--"

"But nothing!  That's it, Irving!  No more next times!  I want you to pay for your stuff and leave!  I want you to find a different supermarket to plague!  Why don't you go to Fred's?"  With that, Bob pushed Super Irving out of the door and slammed it in his face.

So, Our Hero dejectedly found his cart and wheeled it to the check out, paid for his groceries, and walked out of Bob's Buy It All.
 

Part 5: Heroics and Even More Bruises

I guess I'm a not-so-super hero, Our Hero thought despondently.  I'm just a super zero.  I can't do anything right.  Whenever I try to help someone, I always screw up and wind up getting hurt.  No one ever takes me seriously.  Everyone always makes fun of my cape, too.  And my tights, he mentally amended.  I'm a complete loser.  He sighed and continued walking.

Suddenly someone shouted, "My puppy!  Come back, Fifi!  Please!  Somebody save my puppy!"  Super Irving whirled around just in time to see a little girl crying hysterically as a small animal darted out into traffic.  Our Hero dropped his groceries on the sidewalk where he was and bolted out into the street after the puppy.

Super Irving ran after the small animal, the numerous vehicles protesting with loud honks and squeals.  "Fifi!" he called.  The puppy paid no heed.  He saw the small animal run in front of a cab and he raced to catch up.  Just then, Fifi dashed out in front of a speeding bus.  "Must...save...Fifi!" Our Hero panted as he sprinted over to the dog and pushed it out of harm's way.

Unfortunately, the bus narrowly avoided the puppy and hit Our Hero.
 

Part 6: Paul the Paramedic's Story

Paul sighed.  He recognized that cape.
 

Part 7: A Happy Ending

Our Hero wondered who in the world would want to see him.  He would have nodded his head, if the neck brace hadn't prevented him from doing so, so instead he said, "Sure.  Let them in, ma'am."

The first person who came in was Paul the Paramedic himself.  "I thought you said that you never wanted to see me again!" Super Irving exclaimed in surprise.

"I meant professionally!  What in the world did you think you were doing, jumping in front of that bus?!  It was a nice gesture, saving that puppy, but couldn't you have done it without turning yourself into street pizza?"

"Sorry, Paul," Our Hero said sheepishly.

"Here.  I brought you something," said Paul the Paramedic, handing Super Irving a card.  "And I brought this, but you can take care of it later."  Paul handed him the bill for his paramedic services.  "Well, I don't want to monopolize your time, so I'll drop by later."

Immediately after Paul left the room, who should come in but...

"Rosa!"

"Hi there.  I saw your story on the news.  It was real nice how you saved that puppy.  Here.  I brought you something.  Ricardo!" she shouted.  A guy in his twenties, apparently Ricardo, entered, carrying a package.  He handed it to Rosa, who handed it to Super Irving.  "This is a present to make up for when I hit you with my cane and you got hit by that cab."

Our Hero opened up the box.  Inside there was a snazzy new cape with the words "Super Irving" embroidered on it in flashy letters, and a new pair of tights.  "Gee, thanks, Rosa!  I needed some new tights."

"You got hit by a taxi and a bus too?" exclaimed Ricardo.  Super Irving and Ricardo then got into a long conversation about the various accidents that they had gotten into, and what a nice guy Paul was.  Then Rosa and her grandson exited.

And Bob, the manager of Bob's Buy It All, entered.  "Hey there, Irving, " cheerily said Bob.  "Let me get right to the point.  I'm sorry that I kicked you out of my store.  I know that it was an accident and you won't do it again.  Right?" he said, arching one eyebrow.  "So, feel free to come back anytime."

"Gosh!  Thanks Bob!"

"And," Bob said, rummaging around in his pockets, "I brought something for my favorite puppy rescuer.  Here's some gift certificates that are good for fifty bucks worth of groceries at my store.  Anyway, I've gotta run.  I left Mike in charge."

The last visitor turned out to be the little girl whose puppy he had rescued.  "Hi!" said the little girl.  "My name is Dolly, and I'm really glad that you saved Fifi.  You're my hero!" she said, coming over and giving our hero a kiss on his cheek.  "And you're Fifi's hero, too!"

Just then, Fifi came running into the room and attached herself to Super Irving's nose, which happened to be the only part of him not in a cast.  "See?  She likes you!" said Dolly.  "Pets aren't normally allowed, but the nurse said it was all right this time."

"Owie!" whined Our Hero as the small doberman viciously chewed on his nose.

Be sure to read the next of Super Irving's exciting adventures and find out all about his new injuries!  Available for the low, low price--

"Mr. Narrator!" yelled Our Hero.  "Can you get this dog off of my nose?  Please?!"

The end