Superman Kills Everybody At The County Clerks Office.

Note: Watch out for those pesky spelling and grammar fuck ups!

Through a thick coat of saliva, the Clerk asks me my occupation. 

“Superman.” I reply. 

Shit, did I just say that or think it? For fucks sake. News reporter. News reporter, Kent. How many times do I have to remind myself? I can’t believe this is happening again. 

“Did you just say Superman?” The clerk asks, his throat now much clearer. 

“No. What? I said, uh, news reporter.”

 Why does this guy need my occupation anyway? It’s a hunting license, I won’t even be using it in Metropolis. This guy probably just thinks he can trick me into telling him I’m Superman like all the rest of them do. Hopefully I threw him off with my quick thinking. 

“No, you definitely said Superman.”

 Well now he’s got me cornered. But I’m not gonna cave like that bitch Wonder Woman. Jesus, you make one crack about an invisible tampon and she won’t talk to you for a month. Whatever, who needs her? Lois Lane is fine. There are plenty of perks to fooling around with a woman who you could literally crush with a twitch of your finger. It’s just not as good as screwing Wonder Woman. 

“It is you!You even look like him! When you came in, I thought ‘Boy, without glasses that fella sorta looks like Superman.’ But when you got up close, all I could think about was your glasses and I sorta forgot about it ’til you said ‘Superman.’ But it is you!”

“Buddy, you’re making a mistake-” I start, but he cuts me off.

“No I’m not! It’s you!”

This guy is good. I wonder if he’s a Super-villain. Maybe a henchman undercover. I read his name-tag. “Jeff Stint.” Fake name if I’ve ever heard it. I’ll have to look into this guy when this is all over. 

“Listen, Mr.Stint. You’re making a mistake. I’m not Superman, but you’re not the first person to think that I am. I was actually attacked once because people thought I was him.”

This story usually works. 

“Wow! What happened?”

“I fought them off.”

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Nobody had ever asked that before. I hope he doesn’t pry. 

“You fought them off?”

“Yeah, uh, as best I could. But Superman came and helped me out.”

“Superman was there? Did you talk to him?”

“No, can we move on?” I say, hoping the conversation ends there.

“What! You didn’t talk to Superman? Why wouldn’t you want to talk to Superman?” 

“I’m sure he’s a pretty busy guy who doesn’t want to be bothered. The world isn’t the safest place, you know.”

The clerk laughs. Good, maybe now it’s over.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s all we’ve got.” He says.

“The safest place would probably be my fortress of solitude where I keep all of my secrets.” I reply.

Shit. No getting out of that one. Fuck it, this whole place has to burn.

I shoot heat vision directly into the clerk’s face. Dead. The woman behind me in line screams, I squeeze her neck until her head pops like a zit straight up to the ceiling. At this point everybody turns and runs for the exit at the same time. Rookie mistake. I sprint forward as fast as I can, spinning my arms in a circle at 115 MPH. This creates a typhoon-like effect which swirls everyone into the air and grinds them all into a red, fleshy dust. I lock the door before anybody else can enter the building and use X-ray vision to spot how many clerks are left. 

 Only two. There’s one woman cowering in the corner, and a man in the office dialing the phone. I can hear the woman praying to Jesus. I can’t imagine he’ll want to mess with me again after what happened last time. The phone call poses a greater risk. 

I literally fly through the office window and grab the man’s skull with both my hands. As I land, I rip him into two perfectly identical pieces. I would most likely feel more guilty for these grizzly murders if they weren’t each so unique to the average human death experience.

 I grab the phone. 

“Hey fella!” I say.

“Superman?” The voice says.

“Correct. Who am I speaking to?” I reply.

“This is Officer Jones of the 45th precinct. The man was just in the middle of telling me that people were being violently murdered by some man in a suit. Is this true?” 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yes. But I stopped him. Also everyone is still alive.” I say.

“Excellent! Also, what happened to the guy I was talking to?” Officer Jones asks.

“He went to the bathroom, but the important thing is that you don’t send any officers. I’ll take care of this one.” I say.

“Well, that’s really against protocol, but I guess I can trust you this one time.” 

God I can’t believe my luck.

“We’ll discuss this later, I have to go stop Lex Luthor.”

“Wow, that sounds hard. Good luck!” The officer says. He sounds like an excited child. I hang up the phone. Always leave them wanting more. 

 I walk back to the crying woman. Even through all of this killing, my suit is without a spot of blood on it. My hair remained perfectly combed and, guess what? My smile and baby-blue eyes still match perfectly. I look at the woman, her heart instantly melts through a combination of lust and Stockholm syndrome. 

 I give her one of those sexy smirks I used to give girls in High School before I learned that I was Superman and couldn’t use my powers for evil. She smirks back and then stops, surprised at herself. 

“ Hello, Miss. I need to get my hunting license, but nobody has been able to help me yet. Do you think you could try?” I say, knowing that she will. 

 The woman stares at me for a second before she starts to stammer. 

“Maybe I can help you help me. Where are the hunting licenses?” I ask.

 The woman raises her hand shakily at the cabinet down on the other side of the hall. I turn around and slowly walk over to it. I pull out a license. I turn around and walk back to the woman, who is still frozen in shock. 

“Now do I need anything for this? Any stamps, or anything? Do you need to sign it?” 

The woman slowly begins to pull out a pen, her hands still shaking. 

“J-j-j-just your signature and mine.” She says. 

 I gave her the license and she signed it. Her signature, impressively, was pretty legible. She handed it back to me and I signed it too, then folded it and put it in my inside-breast pocket. 

“Those people were bad, you were right to kill them. ” She blurts out. 

I stare at her.

“That doesn’t sound very Christ-like.” I say with a smile. 

“Excuse me?” She said. 

“I heard you praying to Jesus while I was killing all of those people.” I said to her, still smiling. “Do you think he saved you, today?” I asked.

“I hope so, I won’t know until you’re go-“

 Wrong answer. Heat vision to the head.

The only person who was going to save her today would have been me. That chick was a phony anyway. No real Christian would’ve signed this hunting license. There’s no room for people like her in Metropolis. 

 The building is now covered in human confetti. The only way to clean it in an amicable amount of time would be to use super speed and other abilities to rapidly remove the blood, which is exactly what I do because I’m Superman. By the time I’m finished, it looks as if there had never been a murder committed there once. Before I leave, I shoot out all of the security cameras and grab the extra video.

 I leave the building through a back exit and fly home to sit and think about what I had just done. After a bit of soul searching, I switch to some criminal searching and do a background check on Jeff Stint. Family man, no criminal record. He had worked at the clerks office for 25 years and as 3 months from retirement. I felt super sick. 

 Around 11, the police call. I tell them I had been in space all day and the person they had spoke to on the phone was an imposter. They tell me what happened at the Clerk’s office and I tell them to meet me there.

 We do a quick swoop, and the detectives tell me their theories. Nobody is making eye contact with me because they know I was the one who killed all those people. But what are they going to do about it? If they call me out on it, all of those people will have died in vein. At the end of the day, the world gets to keep their Superman. 

The next day I go hunting with Bruce Wayne. I shoot a deer and we have it for dinner before making sweet love by the fire place.