Save the cheerleader. Save the squirrel.

I was at home sick all weekend—stuffy, achy, miserable. So I had time crawl onto the couch, scrunch under a pile of blankets, and catch up on about ten hours of the Heroes marathon I’d Tivo’ed last weekend.

If you’re unfamiliar with Heroes, this summary will save you ten hours: Around the world there are people who, due to genetic mutations, have special powers. There’s a mind-reader, a self-healer, someone who can fly, someone who can paint the future, a time-space bender, a kid who can interact with electronics, and so on. Each person is at first ashamed by their difference, grapples with what’s wrong with them, learns to accept that they’re unique, overcomes the shame, and begins the search for their place in the new future they’ve accepted. So Heroes is basically an allegory, in televised comic-book form, about homosexuality in the 21st century. (Isn’t it obvious?)

These ten hours of concentrated TV viewing have put me into a mental state where I finally feel empowered to out myself to the world.

World. It’s me. Brent. I, too, have heroic super powers, and I’m not afraid to admit it. It’s who I am.

God, it feels good to finally say that!

I hope I won’t feel sorry about this when I’ve recovered from my illness. I hope this isn’t like the time 20 years ago when I was totally out of my head sick and watched a fictionalized TV show about terrorists blowing up a major US city with a nuclear bomb and was completely convinced it was real (despite the repeated commercial interruptions and ending credits followed by the 11 O’clock news with no mention of the US having just lost a major city). I was so very panicky. And feverish.

My particular super power is that I’m able to find things under water. These special abilities are due to three sub-powers:

1. I sink in water. Even when I’ve gained a lot of weight, my blubber is somehow dense.
2. I can hold my breath a long time.
3. I have no fear of sickeningly gross gooey grossness.

That last sub-power is probably the most important when searching for items dropped into marinas where people dock their pleasure craft, and the water is so dirty that you couldn’t see anything even if you did have a face mask, and the dropped item sinks into a foot of amazingly gooey muckiness, and you realize that a lot of people empty their boat’s “head” tank directly into the marina, and further realize that when people say “shit floats” they’re lying. It has taken a lot of training to hone this important sub-power of grossness—-years of never wearing underwear and, when I had to start wearing underwear (due to the nutty incident), of never changing a pair until it wore itself out (turns out that all clothing is biodegradable if you wear it long enough).

I’ve only had to use this find-things-underwater superpower twice in my lifetime, so far. But I’m ready. When the cheerleader needs me, I’m ready. When the squirrel needs me, I’m ready for that, too.

A special message for one reader out there. I’m talking to you, Sylar. Should you even think about coming by to slice off the top of my head, you should know that I never wash my hair. Never. So just back off, pal!

There you have it. I exposed myself and it feels so good. If you have a superpower, feel free to tell us about it in the comments section. You’ll be surprised how (super)empowering it is.