As Jumping Juniper bled to death in the dirtiest alley in Hero Heights, she contemplated her current fate and found herself laughing, while convulsing and gurgling up thick blood. She did not want to die laughing, so she searched her mind for something, anything to negate the tragic comedy unfolding around her. Her choice was self-pity.
So many bad mistakes: She should have zigged instead of zagged. She should have avoided going through the age accelerator ray, which aged her by twenty years. What kind of asinine name is Jumping Juniper? The forest green costume made her look and feel fat. In order to fight crime, one should start with invulnerability, a bulletproof vest, at the very least. Every thug has a gun these days. How miraculous would it be to have super blood clotting powers? With this thought, she died.
Against all odds, she got up, wiped the blood, which now looked like chocolate, from her lips with the back of her hand. She grabbed a chair, turned it backward and straddled it.
“Hi, I hope you enjoyed our story. I’m Lonnie O’Reardon. You may recognize me as an actor, but today, I’d like to speak to you human to human, eye to eye as it were.”
“It’s high time we get guns off the streets and out of the hands of dangerous people. What does it say about us, as a society, when you have to explain to your child that grandpa was killed by a stray bullet, or worse, killed by a greedy illegal immigrant?”
“Let’s be responsible heroes. When you see a crime, don’t become the crime. Report it. Let’s leave the crime fighting to the professionals. Don’t be a stat! Together, we can make America meaningful again. Mama!”