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The Creation of Cat Man

Updated on February 9, 2015

The Beginning

Like they say in the movies, “This is my story and I’m sticking to it.” I am a super hero. My real name isn’t important. My super hero name is Cat Man. You have to be careful with names because Stan Lee has licensed about all of them for Marvel Comics. I live in central Florida by the gulf coast. I own the largest scrap business in the U.S. which comes in handy since I have to make all my own tools and weapons. You can’t pick up those items at Wal-Mart. My area needed a new super hero since our old one retired.
Many of the good ones are getting old and need to rest. Superman can’t leap tall buildings like he used to. Wonder Woman has gotten a little middle age spread and has to keep letting her costume out. Last week we were on a job together when she grabbed her lasso of truth off her belt. Well she had a costume malfunction of sorts. Her left breast dropped out of the front of her blouse after her bra broke. The front lower buttons were stretched way to tight. The left breast made a run for it and ended up down by her waist. The bad guy started to laugh uncontrollably and gave up. Who would have thought they hung down that low. Spider Man is always splitting out his pants and has had to start wearing underwear, even though they leave a panty line. Any way, my scrap company Scrap Man Do pretty much runs itself and I have plenty of spare time. I have a good manager also. I had seen the need so I became a super hero. I have to bring along my mothers sisters kid Adrian. He is and will always be a screw up, but I promised my Mom.
I found out everyone gets their costumes at the same place. Bob’s Uniform House. He will make anything you want and give you two weeks of uniforms to begin with. Then he picks up cleans and delivers them the each week looking new again. All except the Flame. His deal is to set himself on fire then run real fast while burning. Every week Bob was replacing at least three sometimes four uniforms. He didn't like that. Bob also was afraid he would hurt himself or set a house or business on fire and blame it on the uniform.
My favorite crime fighting tool is a speaker I aim it at the person. I turn the base up so high it messes with the rhythm of your heart and you pass out. It does not happen immediately and I have been shot at before the bad guy passes out more times than I want to admit. Another trick to disperse a crowd or quell a riot is to have Adrian blast Stairway To Heaven out of several speaker aimed at the crowd. You can’t help singing along and everyone starts talking about what they were doing when they first heard that song or how they used it to get a girl to go to bed. Course it don’t work on punk rockers. My assistant played Taylor Swift one day by mistake during a riot celebrating the suicide of Kurt Cobain. It only happened because he was listening to it on the wayto the riot. Throwing gas on an open fire couldn’t compete to the reaction that happened next. I got the crap beat out of me by three of Cobain followers. They thought it was disrespectful. I am just glad he wasn’t listening to the Happy Song by Pharrell Williams. I could have been killed.
I can mix it up with the best of them, but I would rather use non-violet methods. There is enough evil in the world. Once I broke up a hostage situation by having the police bring the hostage takers big dinners of turkey. They ate it all and then wanted to take a nap. I refrained saying I was allergic. Adrian ate one while I was serving them. He curled up in a corner snoring so loud the bad guys started to get wise to me, but the smell of a turkey dinner is irresistible.


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