Superhero Diaries

A favorite fanboy hobbies is sitting around asking, “what would you do if you had so-and-so’s powers?” Usually answers consist of either exacting revenge on some people or very contrived methods of seeing girls naked. But if I had superpowers, I’d use them for EVERYTHING. So what would happen if I had the powers of…

Sandman

Sandman was a petty crook, until an escape from prison led him to a beach that had recently been used as a nuclear testing facility. Since we all know that radiation gives you superpowers (though most people just get the ability to grow certain parts of their body in uncontrollable lumps) Sandman’s body merged with the irradiated sand. Now his entire body is sand-like, and he has complete mental control over every grain. He can form his body parts into almost any shape, though he relies heavily on the standards of “fist mace” and “fist sledgehammer”. He can also incorporate other bodies of sand into his own.

Sandman can usually be found wearing the exact same green striped shirt and jeans he was wearing when he gained his powers. Apparently the radiation also turned his clothes into sand which then became part of his body, becau- excuse me, I seem to be having an aneurysm.

In any case, Sandman is a B-list Spider-Man villain – I don’t care if he was in the recent movie. Clearly he never thought of flying to L.A. to spend a couple days in the sun, grab an In-N-Out Burger, and then return roughly the size of the California coastline. He could probably find a way to beat up Spider-Man when the ol’ fist mace is made of Malibu. But me, I have no arch-enemies*, so what would I do with Sandman’s powers?

Day 1: They have not built a vending machine I can’t steal from. In an unrelated story, I’ve eaten nothing but chips and Hostess products today. In testing my powers I did discover a few less successful hand shapes, such as the Sand Spatula (Gritty Eggs), and Sand Toothbrush: (Gritty Toothpaste). I have also ruined three keyboards and two mice. The IT guys at work are getting pissed.

Day 2: Despite my ability to grow my penis at will, my girlfriend won’t have sex with me. When I asked her why not, she says, “You’ve been to the beach; how do you like the feeling of sand in your crotch?” I have to admit I see her point.

Day 3: I thought about what my girlfriend said yesterday, so today I went down to the Jersey Shore. Let’s just say there are a lot of girls with extra chafed thighs, and I’m wearing an awfully big smile. Everyone thinks bicycle seats have it good, but I just had the world’s first two hundred and forty-two-some.

Day 4: Last night, one of the girls I…uh… “sand-blasted” went home and had sex with her boyfriend without properly cleaning herself. That sure was unpleasant. You know what they say: nothing ruins a two hundred and forty-two-some like a second dude.

Day 5: Can’t go outside today – it’s raining with quite a bit of wind. I ran to the corner store earlier for some lightbulbs and came back two inches shorter.

Day 6: Went to the golf course today – I tell you, it’s like the sand traps were EVERYWHERE today! While it’s never fun to spend a day getting hit with sand wedges, the look on a man’s face when he’s forty-nine over par is worth it.

Day 7: I’m getting a little sick of everyone asking me if I’d like a SANDwich, or if I’m going to pay for something with SAND dollars. Though I’ll admit it was pretty funny when my brother warned my girlfriend that I might give her sand crabs.

*Other than Larry, the guy who used to have my phone number before me and who never bothered to tell any of his eight hundred friends that his phone number was changing. It’s been four years and I still get calls. Don’t worry, though; his day will come. Sleep with one eye open, Larry.