Joe Greathead

Sam Bartleby was 6 and a half when he decided to never again take a bath in his life.

It was partly out of protest – to avoid living a life dictated by personal hygiene; but it was also because as far as he was concerned there had never been any actual benefit bestowed upon him by constant cleanliness, and it was his opinion that he was better off rid of it entirely.

Sam was far more interested in bugs, dinosaurs and cricket (he was a wicket keeper). He liked bugs, and wondered whether they had baths, other than the ones he forcefully gave them during recess, when he would dig holes under tree roots and flood them with water from the bubbler. He would also rather enjoy plucking their wings off – to see if they could still fly. It turns out they weren’t very good swimmers after their de-winging either.

It was a Monday when Sam swore off suds in earnest, and it was decided between him and his best mate Rusty that the news would be given in advance of the evenings washing, so as to avoid a scramble at the sink. Sam had written a letter with a brown crayon, declaring his intentions quite clearly. His mum wasn’t impressed.

Greta Bartleby read the note, on which her 6 year old son declared that he was not to be washed, wet with soap or soapy water, wiped with moist towelettes or sprayed with a hose indefinitely. ‘Indefinitely’ was spelled: ‘Indeffntly.’ It was also co-signed by his oafish mate Rusty, and another boy named ‘Tom.’

Greta was overworked and under-appreciated – and this caused much less of a ripple than Sam had hoped. Greta, as it happened, was quite over having to bathe her 6 year old son every night, and after reading the rudimentary note simply shrugged her shoulders and went out for a pack of smokes.

Sam couldn’t believe his luck! No more showers for the rest of his life. He could be as stinky as he wanted to. He thought of all the spare time he would have.

The story of the oldest superhero in the world

***

“Fuck me, I’m old,” Said SuperOld; the oldest superhero on the planet.

It’s not that he was born young, had a nice long career as a regular aged superhero, then became old eventually. Sadly, he’s actually completely immortal, which is really annoying for him, because he didn’t ask for it. But no one asks to be born.

No, SuperOld was born old. A tiny, rank, feeble, old-man baby foetus. His parents were superheroes themselves, and superheroes tend to have strange babies in general. It’s generally a lucky dip with what you get.

When he was born, he rolled out of Thunderbird’s birth canal looking like a shrivelled Sigmund Freud with a full beard and a surly attitude. By 6 months old he was complaining about his corns and requesting that his mushy food be made mushier. By 10, his parents just assumed that those teeth were probably never going to come in, and they fitted him with dentures.

However, being of superhero stock, SuperOld was not altogether without special abilities. He could, for example, turn down the music in an entire block of units with the power of his annoyance. He also has a preternaturally sharp ability to know when a feckin’ kid is within one iota of considering stepping on his lawn, when he teleports immediately as an apparition, naked save for a frightening pair of stained briefs, clutching a broom and yelling toothless expletives into the wind.

He lives in Lane Cove, Sydney, Australia – which wasn’t his choice, obviously. But the amenities are convenient, and there are great bus services, and lots of pharmacies. He’s been here for years, and rarely leaves his one bedder on Finlayson, where he sits, by himself, watching reruns of the six billion dollar man, Hawaii 5-0, and Taggart.

Being a forever-old immortal, SuperOld has lifelong ailments that don’t get better, or worse. So, if you believed in fate or some sort of intelligent design, you’d have to assume that there was someone up there who is probably just really quite sick in the head. SuperOld is an atheist, however – and for obvious reasons. He didn’t even get a youth. Like, not even a moment where he could be young and fancy-free, rather than a crabby old bag of bones who can save a few people here or there; but not without his walker, or a gob full of pills (and how are you meant to pick up old birds when you’ve got a walker?). He hasn’t even experienced what it must feel like to be able to go out flying like a young superhero, or fighting the latest hobgoblin super villain without needing to stop to pee every 5 minutes. It’s a liability.

One of SuperOld’s less well-known special powers is his ability to write to every single complaint office for any consumer item he’s ever bought, with his mind. It’s not in his ability to resist an invitation to ‘please let us know about your experience.’ From the moment he wakes in the morning, to the time he gets into bed (right after a bath and just after Taggart, at 6:45pm), his mind is scribbling telekinetically on a notepad next to his bed, and then telekinetically licking the stamps to affix to the envelopes, and then the letter zooms in the air, out the door, and into the postbox. The local postman has gotten progressively larger calf muscles while working this route, as the bags of mail tend to be very big. SuperOld has been served with several cease and desist orders from various condiment and cereal companies, some who have needed to hire an additional customer service rep just to deal with SuperOld’s constant correspondence.

SuperOld isn’t the most helpful or observant neighbour, but the other people in the building give him a wide berth. He gives out superhero services gratis to others in the building to keep them off his back about all his bad behaviour, and the rent. Which he has never paid.

He’s helped Glenda, the guidance counsellor from unit 4B, by putting a force-field around the school she works at, that stops any of her ‘naughty kids’ from bringing in bags of weed and getting kicked out. Glenda and SuperOld even dated briefly after that for a couple of months – but she felt he was just a little bit too old. She was a rather sprightly 76, you see, and felt like she shouldn’t be too tied down.