My neighborhood has a superhero. Or heroine. Depending on your/its definitions and declarations.
I know that the previous paragraph is more than a little confusing but bear with me…
Lately my neighborhood has had a protector. Just like Artie, the strongest man in the world. Only slightly more mutant and also transsexual.
This is a transvestite. Pre-op. Usually with a couple days worth of stubble, wearing hot-pink lipstick, smoking a giant Philly Blunt cigar down to the nub. Looks like a tranny version of Clint Eastwood meets Iggy Pop at a Revlon convention. And goes by the name… “Shaquana”.
Shaquana’s been out on patrol, sitting on the corner bench, or in front of the coffee shop, with a notebook jotting down observations and making sure that the whole block is safe.
Like our own personal superhero.
The police have branded Shaquana as a domestic terrorist. Which is unfortunate since she is only trying to make the world a better place.
The other morning Shaquana was in full effect. There were some kids waiting for the schoolbus acting like roughnecks. Banging street signs, and gates and throwing rocks into traffic. Shaquana leaped into action! She took a Supersoaker and sprayed down those kids. I don’t know what was in the Supersoaker buuuut…. the police were called in and went searching for her.
Then there was the time when she was in a dumpster and some hipster kids came out of the bar on the corner and one started to take a leak right there in the middle of the alleyway! She jumped out with her flashlight and made him stop! And piss down the leg of his pants. For sanitary reasons. She then sprayed them with a Supersoaker full of soapy water. And ran off.
Nobody can catch her. She can run fast. And has cloaking powers. Kind of like a cross between the Shadow and Batman. But mixed with some classy style.
Sometimes Shaquana hangs out in the alleyway between the wine/cheese shop and the hipster cafe. Searching for clues. In the garbage. She tried to pay for a cup of coffee with old pork lomein. Because on her planet that is currency. But not here.
Don’t blame her for all the weirdness surrounding her. Because it is REALLY hard to understand the norms and taboos of other cultures that live on your own planet let alone a backwater planet in the boondocks of the outer rim of the galaxy. There’s a learning curve. Like if I were to go into South America and try to make arrowheads. Sure, I can program a computer to sort through gene types looking for a way to cross breed a frog and a chicken but damned if i can bash two rocks together to get something useful.
And that’s what our highest level of technology is to the Purple Space Dragons (Shaquana’s true form). Banging rocks together and hoping for the best.
