The boy was instructed to write a one page essay for his English class. He was sweating exclamation points because he did not believe he had it in him to write a page about anything ever. The theme could be any subject matter of his choosing. This young gentleman was in the fifth grade. He had yet to experience all of life’s beauties and wonders. In his heart, he knew if he was a twelfth grader he would be able to write the greatest essay ever created. At age ten he lacked confidence or moxie.
Alas the clock on the back wall was ticking like a bomb. No man or child has yet to beat the clock in a fifth grade English class. Not even Superman has skills to defeat time. Tick tock.
With a silent burst of inspiration the boy’s imagination caught fire. It started to burn the page in front of him down. The boy did not need Superman because he was Superman. And he was flying.
Up in the sky he flew high above the tallest of all the tall buildings. Next he was fighting villains with the utmost of ease. After that our hero grew hungry, so he ate his peanut butter and honey sandwich from his super sack lunch his super, super mom had packed for him. Of course after lunch our boy hero was back out on the crime infested streets. No dirty jokers could thwart Superman or Batman or even this man who was not even yet a real grown man. On the streets were cheeseburger thiefs and gentlemen who wore two faces. Then there were general pickpockets who were not actually generals at all. The super boy superhero had large shoes to fill. Seriously, he needed size 37 clown shoes. But the boy was up to the monumental task. Boy, but first he needed another peanut butter and honey sandwich.
In an instant, the pen stopped bleeding black ink on to the page as the teacher announced class dismissed, as the bell of freedom rang out.