The goddess woke me up this morning and reminded me that she gave me this commission only a month ago. She hinted at how pleased she was at how far we’ve come and she kissed me.
Shhhh! she doesn’t know it’s the villagers that have helped echo her message. Thank you all! I promise to beat this gong for you with all my little energy, thank you!
I’d be beating today’s tune in dedication to all the villagers who helped garner a thousand (1000) blog views in just a month,
Ooooooooooshey! because you said, AfroSays:
The African SuperHero
He stands on the french window sill, fearless and brave, his Ankara cape flowing elegantly behind him, ready to save the world.
He sees the innumerable foes that he must conquer, the same enemies that most people pretend not to see but he can’t ignore his calling for with great power comes great responsibility.
The firm look on his face shows how much he loathes the iniquity in society. He has seen enough on television, pictures glide through his mind from the papers. Good men have been hurt in the never-ending war of good and evil, heroes have been made as well – but the war lives on. Today, His jaw is set on justice, he has had enough.
His fists would be the new law, and his boots, the vehicle of salvation. His costume is funny but he doesn’t mind. He still wears his underwear outside. He would give tribute to the founding fathers of this solitary path of sacrifice; especially those whose exploits have immortalized their names in the glowing pavements on memory lane. It is his turn.
He crouches with one hand in the air like a mantis and reviews his strategy for the last time. It seems perfect. He let out a resounding roar into the air, announcing his debut vigilante career with a signature.
Call him SuperbatSpiderFantasticMan! (at least, that’s what the inscription on his costume reads).
He leaps into the air in super gallant style.
But his roar has alerted her, she arrives on the scene a second before he takes off. Her costume is the same material his cape is made from, she has a desperate look of urgency on her face. She mustn’t delay a second.
She grabs him from the air before gravity summons him beyond reach; she saves her five year old before he becomes yet another cartoon network martyr. Too bad she cannot save his white school shirt from permanent marker.
Her cane would be the latest law, and his cry, the bell of salvation.
Forget the shirt we shall, let’s applaud mother; She’s a real super hero.