Here’s an excerpt from the beginning of Sort of Super. Randy Bones has just stumbled out of the spaceship onto a new planet and is accosted by an old man claiming to give him superpowers.
“You get four options,” the man began.
Four options? “Isn’t it usually three?” Randy asked the stranger.
The old man snapped, “The number of options depends on which type of people we’re short on.”
“Wha-? There are types? But that means I’m not…” he tried to think of a word that wouldn’t make him sound like a whining schoolboy, but time was running thin. “I’m not special?”
“No. You were chosen from among the earthlings because of your incredible generic-ness. You are average in almost every way.” Delight oozed from the man’s face as he continued, “Average height, average weight, job performance. Even your romantic life is average. You’ve had sex twice in the past year. Honestly I’m quite pleased you’re one of my recruits. What you do excel at, however, is imagination. Your thoughts are almost constantly going to another world. That’s value.”
Randy wanted to cry. He wasn’t special? Someone was reading his mind? How many sexual fantasies did this old man know about? How did he know about his sex life? And hell, he thought working as a daytime receptionist for a music venue was hella cool but whatever!
Eva Moe 