Peter had a thing for superheroes. Not just a thing. He was obsessed. As long as he could remember he had always loved superheroes and superhero comics. He had started collecting comic books before he even learned how to read. When he turned 27 he had collected every issue from the early 1970's and up to 1993.
He filled every bookshelf in the house with complete editions of Marvel and DC Comics. His interest in collecting every issue diminished a bit when he got married at 20, but the passion still burned brightly. He just learned to hide it better. A small reference in a movie or a novel was all it took for him to feel the familiar tingling sensations. And when the movie industry finally caught up with the ability to make superheroes look real on camera, his passion was awoken once more.
Peter became a grandfather at the age of 43 and his collection got hidden away in the basement. Not because he was ashamed of his lifelong passion, but because he was terrified that something should happen to his collection.
Exactly nine months after he married Caroline, they had Beatrice, and Beatrice gave birth to her first child on her 20th birthday. Lack of space had always been his excuse for stoving his collection away, but if the truth was to be told, he only wanted it for himself to see. Like a dirty secret that was his alone.
On his 50th birthday, Peter woke up and discovered that he had superpowers. He couldn't have been more surprised if his wife had told him that she'd be leaving him for Justin Bieber.
The superpowers he had been granted wasn't much to write home about, he had to admit. But then again, it wasn't like he was given a choice. Beggars can't be choosers, he said to himself. Not even in his wildest imagination had he dreamed that he should ever be granted such powers.
Peter had no idea of where his superpowers came from. He had not been bitten by any radioactive insects. Nor had he been exposed to any dubious chemical fluids ( which for some unexplainable reason always seemed to be the color green in movies and comics). But something had definitely happened during the night.
- Happy birthday, granddad! Tilde and Nerisa, his two grandchildren, came running in the bedroom balancing a tray of assorted cups and platters. Nerisa spilled most of the coffee on the floor and looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She regained her composure in the last minute and tried to pretend nothing had happened. Peter was handed a plate with chocolate cake and did his very best to force the dry cake down his throat while simultaneously smiling and shoving all signs of enjoyment. The stale cake wasn't exactly his idea of birthday breakfast. He had envisioned pancakes, but he did his very best to show all sign of pleasure.
- Are you tired now, granddad? Tilde asked. She was the eldest of the two sisters. Nerisa was huffing and puffing, trying to hide under his bed.
- Tired in what way? Who said that? said Peter with his mouth full of crumbles that tasted at least a week past the expiration date.
- Mum says you are pre-tired.
- Pre-tired?
- Tired before you're supposed to be tired.
- Oh, I think you mean retired. That's something else entirely.
- What is it then?
- It means that I don't go to work anymore.
- Did you lose your job? Tilde raised her eyebrows and looked genuine worried. She looked exactly like her mother at that age, Peter thought.
- No. It's not like that. I quit my job. At my own free will. I'm gonna go into business by myself. And your grandmother is gonna come along.
