Cliches

George was alone in the stable when Curley's wife appeared in the doorway. Their eyes locked, and George looked like a deer in headlights. She was dressed to kill. She was nothing to sneeze at. George knew he was in a world of trouble. That dame was going to jump his bones, he knew it!

“I’m looking for Curley” she said, still standing in the doorway. It was the crack of dawn. 

George wiped the sweat off his brow, and said,"No, Ma'am."


"Well...what's new then?"


"Been working like a dog, busting my ass 'round here," George snapped, with a toothpick hanging out the corner of his mouth. He looked real intimidating. Like a rebel without a cause. George was keeping his cards close to his vest.

 "Well then," Curley's wife continued, "I guess I'll be hitting the ol' dusty trail. I suppose you've had a hard day's night."  


George had an egg on his face. "Maybe," he continued, "I oughta hit the hay and catch some z's. Maybe a cat nap." 


Just then, Curley walked by the entrance of the stable, but did not see George and the apple of his eye.


"Whew," Curley's wife gasped, "that was a close call. I think we should both call it day."


"Okay," George agreed. "Sweet dreams."


"Don't let the bedbugs bite," Curley's wife said with a smirk. She then turned, and walked away.


George knew he was going to hell in a handbasket. If he continued fraternizing with Curley's wife, he was going to get kicked out of the ranch. He remembered the incident in Weed. He hoped history didn't repeat itself.

If I Could Have Any Superpower...

The classroom is hot and humid. The only sound coming from my fellow students, scratching furiously away at their tests. I still haven't picked up my pencil. I stared blankly at the piece of paper. Studying wasn't a top priority the night before, as I was occupied with a new video game I purchased. What am I gonna do to get myself out of this one?

Fortunately, I have the power of stopping time.

Looking around to make sure everyone had their heads down, I closed my eyes and focused my energy on the task at hand. When I reopened them, not a single thing in the classroom was moving. I looked up at the clock, which was also at a standstill. I was ready to go.

I stood up and observed the scene. Aaron looked almost done. Oben had as much written as I did. I poked around the teachers desk, looking for the answer key I so dearly sought. I found it in the first drawer of  Mr. Van Camp's desk, right beside a pad of sticky-notes and a bottle of whiskey. I continue to write down answers on my page, knowing I will ace the test for sure.

See, the decision to choose the power of controlling time (aka The Zack Morris Timeout) came not as a result of picking the best superpower; rather, it was decided through a series of eliminations. I researched each power, and discovered potentially drastic loopholes in most. For example, super speed becomes quite a burden when the friction of air molecules lights me on fire. Immortality? Becomes a living Hell if he get stuck down a well or cliff. In the end, time-stopping is the best option for me. I conclude, the ability to control time is the most logical, and effective, superpower available.