Faster, Please!

Superman

For those who need stories to use in a) speeches or b) sermons or c) opeds or even d) dinner or cocktail party chitchat, this one seems perfect.

In a thumbnail, it tells the story of some guy in Pennsylvania–most likely Superman in early retirement, as you’ll see–who visits out of town, drinks a good deal, and wanders outside to find a good place to sleep.

No, the story doesn’t give any hint of an answer to one of the many obvious questions:  why didn’t he sleep INSIDE?  This seems appropriate, especially since the guy is stark naked (does it seem to you that there are more and more stories about naked men?  It does to me, and, for the record, I want to state that I have nothing against nudity, and in fact there are many circumstances in which I welcome it and those who indulge in it, but mostly I would prefer naked women, and if I have offended anyone with these words I repent and apologize).

He ends up sleeping–deeply, it seems–in the alley.  At a certain point a neighbor parks in the alley, in his usual spot,  which is where the guy is sleeping.  It’s a Toyota (these details are good for exploitation in your speech/oped/sermon/whatever;  you can remark “good thing it wasn’t a Hummer” for example).  The guy wakes up, and–mirabile dictu–says “hey, get your car offame.”  This reminds me of Mel Brooks’ classic answer to Carl Reiner’s question (to the 2000 Year Old Man) “what was the most important thing for a doctor to know two thousand years ago?”  Brooks:  “Mainly you had to know how to say ‘I think he’s dead.’  You’d stick your fingers in (the patient’s) nose, and if he didn’t say ‘hey, get your fingers out of my nose,’ he was dead.  Right?”

Superman is fine, of course.  “Good condition,” according to the local hospital.

It’s a great story.  What a country.  What a guy.

Oh, almost forgot.  It does not tell us what he drank.  We need to know that.