Writing for Fun
August 2022
No More Heroes - Lynn Gale
The first of four garishly adorned coaches drove through the entrance gates of the Holiday Park Inn and around the ornamental fountain before coming to a juddering halt in front of the Hotel's entrance. Friday, August 26th, was going to be another hot sticky day. A faint rumble of thunder had followed the last of the grey clouds into the distance, leaving behind a clear blue sky in which a fiery sun blazed down. The heavy storm last night had done nothing to cool the oppressive heat or the temperament of manager Pierre La Font.
The thirty-seventh annual Superheroes reunion was about to begin.
Pierre mopped his face with his monogrammed handkerchief muttering, ‘Here we go again,’ as the once defenders of the oppressed began to descend from the coach.
Two young bellboys stared open-mouthed at the sight of the now aged Superheroes struggling down the coach's steps. Their skin-tight leotards sagged in places and showed unflattering lumps in others. Pierre clicked his fingers, and the boys rushed forward to help.
Tiger girl needed a wheelchair after tripping over her cat last week, and the once all-powerful Mighty Moose now used a Zimmer frame to get around.
Two hours later, with the guests finally settled in their rooms and their excessive demands met, Pierre sat down with a cup of tea to discuss the next few day's activities with trainee manager John Watson, fresh out of university and eager to please. ‘We must keep them busy,’ Pierre informed his apprentice. ‘I do not want a repeat of last year's fiasco when a game of croquet turned into a full-scale war between Fire Storm and Blizzard Beast.’
‘That must have been some battle.’ John laughed.
‘It was terrifying, we had to have the whole green re-turfed.’ Pierre shuddered at the memory. ‘On another note the renowned model maker, Kingsley Jones contacted me offering to make our guests a miniature replica of themselves in exchange for a room for the weekend. I have accepted his offer, he will be arriving at eight.’
‘That should pander to their egos.’ John tapped a pen on his clipboard.
And I thought a pop quiz after dinner would go down well.’
‘Possibly, they are very competitive, though.’
Someone rapped on the door, ‘Mr LaFont, Mr LaFont. Please come quickly.’ Pierre opened the door to find Sean, one of the bellboys, in panic. ‘It's Elastica. She has got herself stuck in the lift.’
Pierre sighed, put down his cup and followed an excitable Sean down the corridor. A crowd had gathered in the foyer. ‘Move out of the way, please.’ Pierre was faced with the sight of Elastica's feet protruding from the closed lift doors, the lift itself stuck between the ground and first floor. ‘Does anyone know what happened here?’ he asked.
‘I do,’ a small voice squeaked. Mouse Girl stepped forward. ‘Elastica poked her head into the lift to speak to Ali Cator when the door closed on her.
Pierre raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘What next?’
Old Jed from maintenance arrived to prise open the doors. An embarrassed Elastica slunk away, wobbling about on her now extra-long legs.
‘Thank goodness Superheroes were outlawed years ago,’ Pierre remarked.
‘Oh, I dunno,’ Jed replied, ‘I think the world still needs them.’
The arrival of Kingsley James caused another kerfuffle at the main desk. He had just found out his room did not have a south-facing window. ‘I must have the light for my models.’ The agitated artist ranted. Pierre sent John to sort out the problem while he had a lie-down. An upgrade to the Penthouse suite placated the trilby hatted, smock-wearing model maker and a melt-down was averted.
The evening's entertainment was going well. The Superheroes with full stomachs of salmon en croute and several glasses of red wine were enjoying themselves, and the banter across the tables was taken in good spirit. The quiz ended in a draw between the Rubber Bands, captained by Elastica, now shrunk back to her normal size, and Tiger girl's 'Felines.’
‘With equal points, we have a tie-breaker question to ascertain the winning team.’ John addressed the gathered Superheroes. ‘First to answer wins. Who sang... 'Chirpy chirpy cheep cheep?'
Elastica squealed. ‘I know, it's Middle of the road.’ She leapt out of her chair, dancing around. ‘We win, we win.’ Drinks went flying as she reached across to grab the winner's trophy. In the ensuing melee Tiger girl was knocked out of her wheelchair, incensed she roared in anger which brought the others to their senses. Pierre rolled his eyes in disbelief, leaving John to sort out the mess; he headed to the bar for a large Brandy.
Kingsley James had almost finished the little models. A steady stream of Superheroes had been turning up at his suite all day. Dictating how they wanted to be depicted in clay. When John arrived to see how things were progressing, he was horrified. Lumps of the grey sticky stuff were stuck on every surface in the Luxury room. The chaise lounge would never be lounged on again. He called housekeeping to clear the mess, hoping they would finish before Pierre returned from his counselling session.
Pierre and John sat at the bar discussing the last few days' events; Pierre poured himself his third glass of Brandy that day. ‘Just one more night,’ he said, taki
ng a large swallow of the fiery liquid. ‘One more night, and then they will be gone.’ ‘Actually, I've quite enjoyed the challenge.’ John said, ‘I'm going to ensure their end-of-reunion party will be a night they won't forget.
The DJ packed up his deck, after playing Bowie’s Heroes for the umpteenth time. Kingsley James declared he wanted a group photograph of the Superheroes in front of the ornamental fountain, holding up their statuettes for his 'Marvellous Models in Clay' magazine. The heroes jostled and vied for a position at the front. ‘Perfect,’ smiled Kingsley holding up the remote control, ready to press the button.
Suddenly, a figure, wearing a black and white patterned cape and leotard, swooped down, snatching up the figurines with lightning speed and throwing them skyward, where they exploded in flames of grey gas.
‘Who was that?’ Elastica gasped. ‘I thought there were no more heroes anymore.’
‘That's Zig Zag.’ Tiger Girl sighed, ‘I thought he was just a myth.’
They watched in amazement as he flew through the air scooping up the escaping Kingsley James, dumping him unceremoniously into the fountain.
‘Keep an eye on him until the police arrive.’ A deep voice boomed from behind the black face mask. ‘There is evidence in the penthouse suite on his plan to kill you all. Zig Zag spread his cape and flew up into the night.
Pierre knocked on John's door. ‘You're needed; more trouble with those damned Superheroes again.’
‘Be right with you.’ John smiled as he folded Zig Zag's outfit neatly into the box under his bed.