I awoke one morning about two days before those creatures who I would come to know as my mortal enemies infiltrated my sanctum and began sapping my powers. I flew to the kitchen where my mother (I may have been a superhero, but I was still six) was preparing breakfast. I noticed that my flying ability was rather sluggish despite a slight tail wind. Naturally I assumed that, since I was not fully awake, my superpowers had not fully charged from the night. I ate my breakfast and then went about my daily business of saving my family members from evils which they could not fathom and often could not even see. Many times they shouted, clearly hallucinating, "I just want to watch TV" or"Get out of the bathroom!" but I was undaunted; superheroes are often under appreciated. Its all part of the gig.
As I went about the house offering my super services, I noticed that my sluggishness was not getting better. In fact, it was getting worse. Treachery was clearly afoot! As I consulted with my mother about this loss of my abilities. She conducted a tailored examination, checking to ensure that all my powers were in tact. What she discovered terrified me to my very super soul. I was ::gasp:: SICK!! How could this happen? What was to be done about it? I was at a loss, my mental faculties severely diminished from my illness. Luckily, my mother was able to diagnose and treat me with an intense regimen of Super Crackers and Super Gatorade. I was back on my feet two days later, but still felt that my powers would not be fully restored until I had the meal which I knew would bring me to full strength. It is an ancient secret which has been passed down from hero to hero through the ages. It is guaranteed to restore your powers, whatever they may be, and prepare you to battle evil again: the mighty Chicken McNugget. My mother, who had kindly ministered to me through my difficult loss of power, had consented to preform this one last act of kindness. She would brave the town and the traffic to gather the McNuggets whilst I stayed home, as I often did, to protect my sister. (I would find out in later years that, during these periods where I would offer my protection to my sister, she thought that she was watching me! HA! Mortals.) Less than 20 minutes later, my McNuggets had arrived and I prepared to partake in the ancient ritual of consumption. It must be said that this ritual requires a great deal of preparation on the part of the hero. One is required to be completely relaxed and off their guard in order for the hero to gain all of the power that the McNugget has to offer. Unfortunately for our hero (that's me), the monsters chose that moment to attack.
I opened the box and my heart leaped to my throat. Four hideous beasts with eight beady eyes stared back at me from the vessel that was supposed to contain my restorative meal. They were truly ghastly to behold: eyes burning like fire, impregnable armor upon their backs, and razor sharp beaks. With my body in a state of total relaxation, I had only one of my many powers remaining to me. I jumped on the chair (in order to gain maximum projection), filled my lungs, and deployed my Super Scream. Naturally, it was nowhere near full power, but it dazzled the monsters long enough for my mother to slam their box shut without injuring herself. I lied on the floor panting, with no clear idea of how I had gotten there. I knew that I had just faced my death and escaped and was much weaker for it.
Naturally, I jumped to my feet and demanded an explanation. As the story unfolded, it was clear to me that my mother had been duped by these beasts. They had somehow used their mind control powers to convince her that they were harmless animals called "turtles." Not just turtles, but babies! Who ever heard of such a ridiculous creature? Once she was convinced of the ruse that they were harmless babies just trying to cross a highway, it was easy for them to manipulate her into "saving" them and taking them home. She then scooped them up, dumped my McNuggets in the bag (BLASPHEMY!) and they took up residence in the box where they could lie in wait for the moment of attack. Try as I might, I was unable to convince her of their true identities and intentions. As my mother spread the story (clearly as a result of the "turtles" telepathic influence), I began to realize that the beast's mind control abilities were far more powerful than I had possibly imagined. Not only were people accepting her story without question, but it was obvious that many of them believed it themselves. I knew that if I continued contradicting their version of events they would attempt to help me "get over my fears" thereby willingly bringing more of the beasts into the house. It was much more important for me to continue to use my powers to protect my family.
Seeing that I was outnumbered and quite obviously the only sane person in the room, I decided that I would never tell the true story...an oath that I have kept until this moment. So, I held the truth, constantly surveying the world for a resurgence of the beasts and keeping a watchful, but distant eye on my family. To this day, all of them are convinced that I was a normal six year old scared of some turtles. I understand why they think this. I laugh with them when it is mentioned...I do this for their protection; I do not want them to incur the wrath of the beasts. I remain watchful, ready for the day when the beasts return to try to take me again. It was a lesson that I learned early in life and have lived by to this day. It has served me well and I now pass it to the readers of this tale, so that they may apply it to their own lives:
"NEVER TRUST ANYTHING HIDING IN A MCNUGGET BOX"
