It’s Crummy Being Superman

Context:
3 words; The letter S, Matchbox, Revolver

Task:
A 200-word story

Outcome:
The matchbox was empty. That meant no cigarette. This was the last straw. Life sucked big time. Yeah, he could use his laser emitting eyes to light it; but the last time he did so, he set the whole living room on fire. Sigh! It wasn’t easy being Superman. He was tired of playing hero, wearing his underpants on the outside, and having an S emblazoned on his chest. S for Superman. S for Sucker. Sex with Lois Lane was getting to be a bore too. But all Jor-El could say was, “They need you son.” What about him? Didn’t he have a say in anything? All he wanted to do was have some fun, preferably with Sheryl Crow.

Meanwhile, Jor-El was ruminating over Superman’s last plea to turn him into a mortal human. He thought he had done the right thing, but now he was having second thoughts. Superman had had it tough. Jor-El sighed. Ok, he thought, let Superman have his way.

Superman eyed the revolver on the table. He had kept it as a souvenir from the last criminal he had pounded to pulp. He picked it up and put it to his head. “I can’t even #$%9$% kill myself,” he laughed wildly. And pulled the trigger.

As he lay on the floor with the blood oozing out of his brain, he thought, “Damn Jor-El.”