It has been about a week since my superheroness became official and had what is likely to be my first confrontation with The “Waster”. It’s still hard to believe, last Friday, there were no superheroes, no supervillains, and today the world has one of each.
I don’t know if I like the odds though. Sure we have even numbers and I have good on my side, but in my experience good doesn’t always triumph, and he probably makes a bit more than a high school student working part time at the local movie theater. I need to even things up. Better yet, I need to make it uneven with my side ahead. I need…
I took another bite of my burrito on this essential burrito day as Adam released the immense flavor of fire sauce on his burrito supreme. When satisfied there wasn’t any sauce hiding in the packet, he rolled his burrito back up.
…a sidekick.
With burritos down, it was time to head back to Steve’s place. We stepped from the sidewalk, heading toward the HLCC side of Rosana. Who would be my sidekick? Mainly due to proximity, Adam became my number one prospect, but how do I ask without giving myself away? As we walked silently across the parking lots, I mulled over how to ask him to be my sidekick.
“So… Like Stuff?” I asked.
“Well, yeah. Who doesn’t?”
“Colleen.”
“I donno, she might like Stuff, she just can’t ever become as excellent as it,” he replied.
“I guess,” I nervously said as the HLCC neared, time was running short, “You know, I had an idea for something to add to the Equations of Good Stuffness equal to Akmed, condiments.”
“Woah. I never thought about it until now, but that makes perfect sense. They liven your food, they come in all kinds of colors and flavors. That’s good.”
“Well, now that condiments are equal to Akmed,” my palms began to sweat, “they should be protected against wasting, hoarding, and should be provided to those who need them.” I couldn’t look at him. It seemed like an eternity before he replied.
“Of course they need to be protected! We could be allies with Condiment Man,” he stopped. I looked over at him, his eyes were wide with excitement. “One of us could be his sidekick!”
“You can be his sidekick. I can even find him for you if you want.”
“What? You know CM and never told me?”
“Well… Kinda.” I unbuttoned my shirt, and flashed the CM logo at him.
His face went limp. “You… CM… sidekick…”
It was the next day when he regained his senses. He was over at my place, and out of the blue he decided his sidekick name would be Adam. I was surprised he didn’t go for a more condiment oriented name, but was surprised when he declined a more full fledged costume, instead opting for an “Official Sidekick Sticker” as he would call it, to be affixed to his forehead when he needed to become my sidekick. To me, the sticker looked more like a scratch ‘n sniff cherry than anything “Official,” but it did the job just fine. The first time he put his costume on, I was looking the other way. I turned around, and there was this strange guy walking around the Condiment Cave. I was about to give him a Condiment Kick when he started screaming he was Adam. I would have felt bad taking out my sidekick before he saw action, but such is the life of a superhero. Death can come at you from any angle, and when you least expect it.
With his sticker affixed, and my costume in place, we decided to take the Condiment Mobile, my red Honda Civic with plastic CM decal attached, up to Rosana Square for some patrolling. We started by the SouthGlen, the place where many of my superhero abilities were honed. Namely, the ability of mine to stand for at least an hour in one place. It took dedication to learn that one. That, combined with my ability to walk great distances, are my powers. Since becoming a superhero just over a week ago, these super abilities haven’t been used yet, but I could see a time where out-standing The “Waster” could come in handy. Maybe he’ll challenge me to walking contests, to the victor goes the spoils. I just don’t know, how do super villains work? How does an arch enemy work?
“I think you foil his evil plans,” said Adam.
“Was I talking to myself?”
“No, I think you were talking to me. I’m the only one here. Well, except for you.” Adam paused, “I assumed you were talking to me. You were asking questions.”
“I think they were of a more rhetorical sort than ones I expected you to answer, but since you did, I guess I would foil his plans. But couldn’t he foil my plans too? I mean, what if I spot a guy with a hot dog, ketchup, but no mustard. I run up to give the guy some mustard, but The “Waster” comes form out of nowhere and intercepts the mustard packet mid-donation. Could he do something like that?”
“I haven’t met the guy, so I don’t really have a feeling for him yet,” Adam kicked a pebble up the sidewalk ahead of him, “but I think villains in general are capable of something like that.”
“If he’s going to do things like that, he’s going to find himself on my bad side real quick. No wonder he’s my arch enemy.”
Adam ran up a few steps and kicked the pebble again, shooting the pebble farther up the sidewalk.
“I think I need to hire a butler.”
“Huh? What do you need a butler for?”
“Superheroes have butlers. He could keep the Condiment Cave clean, deliver the Condiment Mobile when we need it, and keep our secret identities secret of course. You know any butlers?”
“Where would I know a butler from?”
“I’ll need you to put an ad in the paper for me.”
“Why do I have to do it?” Adam said, kicking the pebble off into the grass before the road.
“If we had a butler, you wouldn’t have to.”
Adam sighed, “Fine.”
A strange feeling came over me as he said ‘fine’. Pain. Sadness. I could see the KC Masterpiece with its attached McDougles, people were walking around outside, cheeseburgers, and I had a strange sensation that BBQ sauce was missing.
“Adam, I think the KC Masterpiece is out of barbeque sauce.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“I think Akmed gave me Condiment Sense when I became a superhero.”
Adam looked at me, dumbfounded.
“I’ll explain it to you later.”
We ran back to the Condiment Mobile, and raced to the KC Masterpiece on Metcalf. As we pulled in to the parking lot, two guys circled by the entrance of the restaurant screaming. What they were screaming I couldn’t make out over the Patrolling Mix CD, but they looked upset. Upon exiting the Condiment Mobile, Adam and I quickly made our way to the man leading the chant.
“What do we want?” yelled the man.
“Barbeque Sauce!” the leader yelled with the other man.
“When do we want it?”
“NOW!” they yelled in unison.
“Excuse me, sir,” I asked, “What is going on here?”
“Well, we are an angry mob because”
“Wait, you’re a mob?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“Did you see Bob there?” he pointed to the guy who responded to the questions.
“Yeah, I saw Bob, and I saw you, where is everyone else?”
“They left. But they’re still members! I could call them up right now.”
“No, that’s ok. I don’t think the both of you constitute a mob. Maybe a partnership. Yeah, angry partnership sounds about right. Buy why are you guys angry again?”
“Well, Bob and I, my name’s John by the way, are sitting at a booth when the waitress brings our burgers. I open mine up, and, get this, there’s no barbeque sauce on it! So I flag the waitress down again, and I point out that my burger is missing its sauce. I mean, I ordered a barbeque burger, I expected barbeque sauce! She tells me some guy came in right after I had placed my order, and ran off with all their sauces. Every last one. You expect me to believe that? Who ever heard of a guy stealing condiments?”
I looked at Adam, who was shaking his head. “Sir, I’ve heard of someone. Did you get a description of this guy?”
“The waitress said he was wearing a suit, and balding. So are we still an angry partnership or what?”
“No. You guys are furious. A furious partnership, but that is about to be rectified.” I turned toward Adam, “Toss me the honey Masterpiece sauce.”
The trunk of the Condiment Mobile was popped, and Adam tossed a bottle to me.
“Here you are John. Enjoy some of that honey smoked flavor for me, but don’t waste any, or we’ll be back for you.” I walked back to the Mobile. “Adam, unload seven bottles of each variety and help me take them in. Once you do that, I’ll need you to requisition some more sauce from Price Chopper.”
“By requisition, you mean…” he trailed off.
“Adam, there are people here in need of sauce. Get it by any means necessary, but make sure they have some left for sale. Get some Jack Stack sauce if you have to.”
We loaded up on as much sauce as we could carry, and hobbled into the lobby.
“Party of two?” asked the host.
“No. Here’s some sauce for your patrons. I heard there was a bald guy who stole your condiments.”
Adam dropped the sauce, and ran back to the Condiment Mobile.
“Oh, yes. Very evil looking fellow. He said something about being a waster or something. He kept making air quotes. We were all very confused.”
“Where did he go?”
“He went back to the kitchen, then out the back I think. I haven’t seen him leave through the front.”
The restaurant patrons fell silent and stared as the host led me past their booths to the kitchen area. Once there I saw no sign of The “Waster”, just vacant shelves labeled, Original, Classic Blend, Hickory, along with their other varieties of barbeque.
“He took them out through the back,” said one of the chefs. “He said you’d come, and that I should give you this.” He handed me a story ripped from the newspaper, which I shoved into my belt while running out the back door.
There was nothing there. No “Waster”, no car, no tracks, nothing. The “Waster” was gone. I pulled the newspaper from my belt, and read the story of McDougles settling with an unnamed Overland Park man for an undisclosed sum for making him evil.
“Did you catch him?”
I turned toward Adam’s voice, “No. He got away. And our arch enemy just went full time.”