Get cape, tear cape, die!

"Is that a yellow rabbit", I ask and my sister giggles maddly.
"Can only see purple tortoises."
"Strange thing that is."
"Yeah. Very strange."
There is some more giggling.
And, no, dearest reader. We're not stoned.
Just falling back into old behaviorschemes, mainly to piss my nephew and niece off.
They're seven and sixteen and lurking around the corner right now, trying to listen to our conversation.
My sister's flat is ontop of her little clothesshop and being antiauthority and so on, she and my brother-in-law decided to take all the doors a while ago and replaced them by simple curtains, so that a secret doesn't really stay a secret in this place.
"Oh...my god...what is the rabbit doing to the tortoise?"
That's obviously enough, for we hear a "hmpf" and pairs of feet shuffling and a second later my 16year old niece's attempt to slam her non existent roomdoor.
My sister, Alison, smirks and reaches for a joint.
Her lighter zschs when she turns it on and with a satisfied smile she shoves the thing into her mouth, inhaling deeply.
"You know, Dylan, sometimes you're just too open about the whole gaynessthing. I mean, you didn't have to take of your costume."
I look at her confused.
"Pardon?"
"Not everyone wants to see your willy."
"I'm not open about that....state...I'm in. I took the suit off, so he couldn't trap me with it. It is after all my weakness."
"Aham", my sister makes, obviously not believing me.
"Alison, look, why do you think, you're the only person who knows about it?"
"Something I really can't understand. There is nothing bad about it."
"It is complicated."
Alison stares at me, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Then explain."
"That's not what I mean. Being gay is complicated."
"Many people live with it."
"It's not a disease."
"Exactlly."
"Oh, Alison, stop it. Okay?! Just stop it."
My tone turnes pleading and she luckily droppes the topic with a sigh, moving on to something else, something I don't want to talk about either.
"You're getting older, you know?"
"Alison!"
"I'm jsut saying."
"Then don't say it again."
God, older sisters suck. Especially when they only got a year difference and attempt to understand you.
Which is quiet impossible.
I mean, how would a hippy-heterosexual-shopowning mother understand the trouble of being gay, sexualy frustrated and constantly close to unemployed.
"Anyway", she sighes. "I wanted to talk to you about Emily."
Emily is the previously mentioned 16year old.
"Hm", I voice.
"There have been a few things going on with her lately."
"Sure."
"Dylan?"
"Hm?"
"Listen please."
"What things?", I inquire.
To be honest, I don't really wanna know about some girl's puberty problems.
Ha, maybe she turns out to be a lesbian and now they wan't my advice.
Probably to turn her "right" again.
But somehow I doubt my sister would have problems with her daugther's sexuality and also, what advice can I give?
It's not like you can turn around.
I know, believe me.
Tried the to walk the other road plenty of times.
"Well. You know. She shows signs and stuff."
"Signs? Alison, please. Stop talking in riddles. Did she have a girlfriend over or something?", I blurt, 'cause, yes, I'm a bit impatient sometimes.
My sister, for her part, just stares at me.
"Girlfriend? Dylan, I don't know what you're going on about. Anyway. She grows plants."
"So?", I ask.
"Very quickly."
"How quickly?"
"About ten seconds."
"Oh", I exclaim.
It's a lame reaction, I know.
My mental however comes close to this.
Shitwhydoesthishavetohappentomyfamily?
Somehow I had the idea of having my niece pay my pension.
Now, that she turns out to be superheromaterial, she'll probably have less money than I.
"Want me to convince her to become a lawyer?", I try.
Alisom shakes her head smiling and hands me the joint, so that when the next surprise comes, I cough violently, 'cause I have that bloody thing in my mouth, when she says:
"We want you to train her."
Smoke chims out of my nostrils for the next two minutes and I try to survive with my sister hitting my back repeatedly, somehow just making it worse.
"Alison, stop", I yell and she leaves for the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water.
Strangely enough, I don't get to drink it, but end up with a dripping wet face and shirt.
"Fucking hell", I shout, jumping up.
"Never!"
"Dylan!!!", she whines.
"No way."
The fight with the monster of suffocation put me definitely into a bad mood and my face is red and my troath scrachty and burning, as if I had actually swallowed the joint. Even Alison must realize now, that it's not the best moment to ask something of me.
And come to think of it, asking for such a thing will never find a good moment.
"No."
My sister sighs, running a hand trough her long hippy hair, a few braclets dangling, as she does so.
"Come sit down", she mumbles, resting her hand on my shoulder, grabbing a tissue from somewhere to wipe the remnants of my near deathexpierence of my cheeks.
namely tears.
"Alison", I sigh while being pushed back onto the comfortable couch (she's appaerently trying to blackmail me with that...."You use our couch, but won't teach our daughter"), "I can;t do that."
"Yes you can.I have it all figured out. The government pays you 2000 dollar per month if you train class d superheros."
She shoves a piece of paper to me, covered with a lot of numbers.
"It's hard to get all the 2000, 'cause they're for different things and you have to really bug them to get the full amount. But if you do, send all the forms in and so on, it won't be a problem."
I eye the paper curiously and wonder why I never realized that my sister was deep insider of her a mathgeek.
"That's not enough."
"You'll get more, if you take over St.John's old bookshop and...", she doesn't get any further, instead gets cut of by the cold voice of my niece.
"I don't want to be trained by that looser", she announces. She's leaning against the doorframe, her blond hair falling over shoulders, blue eyes so ice you think they should drop the temperatur of the room by at least thirty degrees.
I, of course, being older and wiser and quite a bit sexier, can only huff at that.
"And I won't train loosers, thank you."
"I'm not a looser", she barks, fists clenched and somehow I hear leafes shaking behind me.
Well, the next thing you can hear, is fire bristling and Emily eyes me shocked.
"You killed my plant", she observes and I casually turn around to see how the last few of my magic flames eat up her ivy.
"Didn't notice", I deapans.
"That was weak", Alison remarks.
"Shut up."
We both turn at her, fuming.
She shrugs her shoulders.
"Em, your uncle is actually quite good."
The teenager only shoots me a glance.
"I've god something better", she tells us.
"What?", Alison asks.
"Yes, what?", I add.
(Clearly siblings).
Emily looks at us a bit unsure, almost nervous.
"What?!", Alisom bellows and it's a pleasure to see my niece shrink, because since the last few minutes I'm not sure anymore exactly how much I like her.
"I. I'm in a gang."
"Oh, my god."
We adults try to catch our breath, totally shocked, 'cause gangs are always bad. They mean alkohol and marijuhana, then cocain, exstasy and heroin. They mean parties with loads of shitfaced kids, waking up in a tatooparlor the next morning with a big, black anchor on their arm that resembles the one on the othr one (and the legs, bellies, shoulderblades...), combined with the faint memory of robbing a handbag off an old lady, to pay the shit. Gangs are the wort enemy of the average superhero. They sread premariage sex.
"Mum, calm down", Emily says. "We don't do any stuff. We just practise magic. Ryan does water spells and Louis fire and Lizzie can conjure a blizzard and...."
We stare at her, but the girl seems pretty excited, suddenly turing into a chatterbox.
"....and we're so much better now. We have a lots of libarybooks and magazine. We do the 12steps program by Oliver Heningston-"
I snort.
"-who at least is a real superhero-"
"-and a phedophile-"
"with level a and all, so-"
"I've got level a as well."
"-he at least knows what he's doing."
And well that is enough.
Being igrnored by a dumb, rambling sixteenyearold is one thing, being put under such bastards as Oliver Henigston a nother on.
"I'll do it" I shout.
Doesn't matter if the guy raped primary children, now my dignity is at stake.
Alisons head snaps up and she looks pleased. emily on the other hand comes to an aprupt end of her verbal vomit and stares at me.
"No.", she says slwoly.
"Oh yes", my sister says.
"No."
"You will...."
"No."
"...or you'll be grounded till you're 21."
"No!!!"
"You'll become a lawyer."
Emily's eyebrows twich nervously and she sends me a deathly glare.
"All right", she mutters. "I'll do it."
And I know that the war I didn't want to win had been won.