Over the weekend I got a black eye. This is the story of how I got it.
I was driving in Salt Lake on Friday morning in my vehicle, a customized 2000 Jeep Wrangler known as the "Zodmobile." (Kneel). Everything was pretty mellow. I was wearing jeans and an Old Navy t-shirt, the kind with the American flag on it. I was going to meet up with my friends to play some baseball.
Suddenly there was a huge traffic accident as I passed the courthouse. I narrowly avoided becoming part of the collision by wrenching the wheel and coming to stop on the sidewalk.
It was clear immediately what had caused the accident. Some vampire had just walked out of the courthouse and into the sun, sparkling so brightly that the cars nearest him never had a chance. (Vampires. Man, they're cold-blooded)
I started to make my way towards the scene of the crash, intent on helping in whatever way I could. Right about then I heard the most chilling sound, a howl that descended on us in a horrible cacophony of grunts, shrieks and screams. My eyes shot towards the source of the terrible noise which was coming from just around the corner.
The accident had drawn a horde of zombies, most likely one of the gangs that runs this area. I had to move fast. The zombies moved towards the scene of the accident, like sharks drawn towards blood.
I ran to the first car and tried to help them. I had grabbed my baseball bat, just in case, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it. It's not really my weapon of choice when it comes to battling zombies. The zombies were picking up speed. They would be on us any minute. Finally I turned to fight, unable to open the twisted metal door of the car.
And that's when I heard another sound.
The noise was quickly joined by the scraping sound of swords being drawn from scabbards. The zombies stopped, confused for a moment, then charged the new source of disturbance. Facing off to them was a mob of pirates, bellowing for blood.
This was my chance. I turned back to the door, redoubled my efforts and pulled. The door wrenched free and the woman inside thanked me as I helped her out. We moved from car to car then, helping the victims of the crashes out, practicing basic first aid, and most importantly, moving them to the relative safety of the courthouse.
I heard a woman scream. She was across the street, fighting with two zombies that had broken off from the main herd.
I ran towards her, convinced it was too late. Still, I had to try.
I raised the bat over my head in defiance and gave an angry battle cry.
Which is about when Superman showed up.
I suppose it is technically possible that he confused my intentions. (Unlikely, but possible) He hit me and the force threw me all the way back to the "Zodmobile." I reached up and tenderly touched where he had hit me. My eye. I could already feel it swelling. That jerk.
And then it made sense. I looked down through my good eye at my shirt. The American flag. I suddenly remembered reading somewhere where Superman had disavowed his US citizenship(making him the first illegal ever to do so). He was afraid that his actions might be misconstrued as US policy.
I looked up at him and he just smirked. And to think I ever liked you. I rolled back over to my Jeep, which, as noted earlier, is a customized vehicle known as the "Zodmobile." Luckily one of the new features I had installed on the "Zodmobile" was a pair of Kryptonian-DNA-seeking Kryptonite missiles. I hit the launch button and hit the ground.
The pair of them tore out of the launcher. Superman, apparently not expecting any sort of retaliation, was caught off-guard. He was lifted in the air and hurled ten blocks away. A bright green explosion marked where he landed.
The bright light attracted the attention of the zombies and pirates, and both groups moved off to investigate. This allowed the paramedics to finally arrive and treat those with injuries. As for me, they gave me an ibuprofen and told me to beat it. (It's nice to be appreciated)
And that is the story of how I got my black eye. And no, it most certainly did not occur because of anything so trivial as my two year old daughter rocking her head back into me while sitting on my lap. That's the story. Epic battle of survival. Not epic battle with two year old.
Besides, which story would you rather believe?