9 Lives of The Undead Zombie Superhero

Ya know, i took inventory of how many close calls i’ve had in the white-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel department and it seems i’ve just about run out. There was that time i found my father’s Manlicher Carcano carabine in the bedroom closet when i was very little and very curious. Then, there was the ravine-tumbling challenge by by school chums. I can scarcely forget the high-speed crash with Howie’s Dad’s Impala while were we on our way to a midnight show (totally not Howie’s fault, just so you know.) Then, there was that unfortunate toxic substance incident on a rather hot day, to boot. Let’s see, that makes four, so far. Then, there was the throat cancer scare, the skin cancer scare, the thyroid scare, the crazy ex-wife arrow-flinging event, the near-miss, icy spin-out, the fall, the bee attack, that stupid bar fight with the broken bottle in the neck, that really crazy red-headed chic with the Harley tattoo and only one nipple.

Oops. Seems i’m over. I guess it’s actually a mode of superherodom that i’ve failed to fully engage. Perhaps i am in fact indestructable and can only be finally downed when presented with appropriately weighty toxic jewelry from the deepest part of the methane oceans on my home world.

I am writing this at 36,000 feet. I think this would be an opportune time to test my theory. Well, then . . . I need a catch-phrase, something heroic?  Ah, yes: Salute The Day! Away! Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!