Getting out of the biz really isn’t easy.

I mean first, there’s the guilt to contend with. It’s torture admitting to yourself that you want out in the first place, but actually acting on it? Oof.

I mean, sure, logically you know there’s eventually going to be someone else who’ll pick up your slack. Someone else who can take care of all these people just fine, probably… maybe.

Most guys who realize they want out stay in anyway. I mean, it’s hard to picture doing anything different. This life doesn’t exactly prepare you for a lucrative career in stocks, y’know.

But all right, let’s say you talk yourself into it. You quit. You think that’s the worst part? Not even close, pal. It’s the guilt afterwards that really gets you. See some kid getting pushed around on the subway? Lady gets her purse snatched on the street outside a club? Fire on the fifth floor of an apartment block? Gotta walk on by, man. Gotta leave it to the professionals.

Yeah, yeah, I can hear you. Sure, you quit your job, but does that mean you gotta stop being a decent citizen? You don’t gotta be in uniform to step in and help, right? Yeah, easy for you to say.

I mean, the purse guy for example. What do you want me to do? Chase him down, tell him to hand it over? Okay, let’s say he says no. Let’s say he fights back. He throws a punch, I throw a punch. Only here’s the thing, you ever try to punch someone gently? Not so easy, my friend. And when your casual punch is enough to put a hole in a brick wall, what do you think that’s gonna do to a guy’s bone structure?

It’s all fine when you’ve got the cape on. Stopping crimes, getting the bad guys, you’re doing what you’re supposed to do, and the collateral damage? Well, bad dudes should have known better than to fight a superhero, right? I mean, it’s in the name. Super. Hero. If you’re committed enough to crime to end up on the bad side of super law, the justice system generally figures you probably deserve to go to prison in traction.

But some guy in corduroys pummels another dude’s face in in broad daylight? People are gonna ask questions about that one. People are gonna have a problem with it. Not least of which is – say, you have super powers, where’s the cape and mask? Think you’re better than us? Think you don’t have to pull your weight? Think you’re above the law?

Gets ugly. Gets old. Easier to just walk by.

When I first got out, I thought I’d try being a cabby. I mean, I know the city like the back of my hand, I don’t mind going without a little sleep. But man. It was horrible. The kind of stuff you see rolling through back alleys and seedy strips in the middle of the night, and not doing a damn thing about it? This one time a kid recognized me. Split off from his folks, ran to my window, begged for an autograph, asked why he doesn’t see me on TV anymore. Couple people overheard, started to make a scene, and then it’s camera phones everywhere. What a nightmare.

I guess I probably shoulda left the City. Find somewhere else where no one knows me, just start over fresh. But I dunno. You spend your life looking out for a place, saving it from sea monsters and mad scientists and space invaders and the common meanness of human versus human and somehow you just… Well, how do you walk away from that? How are you ever going to walk around between some other skyscrapers and call it home?

Anyway, I got a kitchen job at an all night diner. It’s fine. Lotta pancakes. Lotta apple pie. You can just sorta get in a rhythm and stop thinking about other things. Just ‘flop two over easy and let the sun shine, Eve with a lid on, side of frog sticks’, you know. Make sure we don’t run out of coffee. It’s not bad.

But man, I tell you. It ain’t easy.

Short story related to nothing. 🙂 

Sorry for all the lateness going on this week! Moving is doing a number on my ability to get anything done in a timely manner.