The Superhero's Wife

There’s a head in the fridge. Again.

It’s decaying and starting to smell appalling and they didn’t even have the decency to put it on the empty shelf. That’s the hotdogs gone before Friday! I’ll have to empty everything out once I get out of here. Fortunately, it’s only slightly chilly.

Oh. I’m going to have so much fun breaking this to my husband when he gets home. Honey, I had the strangest accident on the way home from work. I was tied up and squashed under the bottom shelf right above the crisper beside a severed head! How bizarrely clumsy of me! So how was your day?

It’s all his fault as well. It’s a good thing my parents don’t know about any of this. They’d have insisted I call the whole wedding off. They’d have insisted he was a maniac that was bound for bedlam, I'd have thought the same a couple of years earlier had he not first introduced himself to me as an ordinary quiet bookstore owner with a plain name.

Bam! That’s his name. I mean he was born Tim but half the time he takes off that mask and becomes Bam! The downtown city masked menace with powerful fists and deadly eyes to take down all crime and corruption!

For Christ's sake.

And Yes. I knew before we were married. Shocking isn't it? You’d think I’d refuse the proposal from a man who just used X-Ray vision to find a bunch of corrupt judges and lawyers and burst through several walls collapsing an entire courthouse before borrowing the ring of his arch nemesis while they were being detained by police but…look he tried his hardest and he was really really sweet. Even though it also made me a favorite target of those lunatics, The Joking Bride, Arachne, Nightcreep, Falcon. and Doe. yes. yes, they are far more creative with the names.

Still. I wonder whose henchmen it was this time, Arachne’s have always been Cirque Du Soleil rejects which explains their attempts to break the spine while shoving me in here, the stealing bags of chips is something Jake Riot’s crew of hoodlums tend to do every time they “pop in” it must be one of the creeps that knows my Tim’s identity. It must come up in those circles, Jesus I think my back is broken! They must’ve thought I was dead when they stuffed me in the fridge. Twisted my arms and legs to fit me in. I haven’t been able to move my neck without potentially breaking it!

we've dealt with messed up date nights, deranged maniacs on top of our car, home invasions with clown-faced burglars [Tim’s always been nervous around clowns], and eventually always the same tactic: For a cheap shot, target the superhero’s wife. Usually, it’s the news reporter Riptide has been entangled with for years now but they just hold her hostage for a few hours, last time they brought her a sandwich!

Oh, and the hospital visits, let’s not forget the hospital visits. We can barely afford healthcare as it is! Those doctors must think my Tim is a wife-beater with how often we are there! To say nothing of the poison I get thrown at me when it’s him in the cast with the two black eyes. Not to mention I think my wrist is broken again, that’s just perfect. It still hasn’t healed from the kidnapping last month where that rat tied it behind a chair. A chair two seats down. For 48 hours until Tim [sorry BAM!] showed up and pulled me out of it.

That’s another thing he’s always late. If I could check my watch right now I’d bet you my left leg [twisted as it is right now] that he’s at least an hour behind, probably saving some helpless fool reporter who thought sneaking into a drug den was a fantastic idea. But as he would say, that’s a dead horse.

He’ll stroll in wearing that hideous spandex that admittedly does show off those abs well past dinnertime. “Hello honey what are we having tonight dear, did you set Downton Abbey to record? Babe, what are you doing in the fridge? You’ll catch the death of cold!”

Well, When he gets home, I am sending him grocery shopping. And for a new fridge.

I wish he'd hurry up. My legs are blue. And numb. And that head is starting to really smell.