8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

Super Shane

Shane tugged at his custom-designed spandex suit, pinching and pulling here and there until it was comfortable. He checked to make sure his boots were laced up and his utility belt was fully stocked and buckled tightly, then looked in the mirror and adjusted his mask.

He was all set. He grabbed his gloves off the table by the front door as he headed outside…and it was raining. Pouring, actually. And it was that late spring/early summer type of rain, the kind that doesn’t even cool things off, it just stays warm and the rain only makes things extra humid and clammy.

Shane went back inside, shut the door, forlornly pulled off his gloves, mask, and belt, set them on the table by the door, and headed for the kitchen.

He wasn’t going to fight crime in this weather, and it wasn’t like there weren’t cops out there taking care of things anyway. Shane decided he’d give those cops a hand another time. Tonight was more of a “heat up some pizza rolls, grab a beer from the fridge, and wrap up in a blanket on the recliner to watch The History Channel” kind of night.

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