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He walked right by them. That was odd. Was he feeling alright? Hey buddy, looks like Captain
Incredible is in a real jam. I picked up the comic book. Oh boyI dont know how hes gonna get out
of this one.
I guess. Jack shrugged his shoulders. His eyes lit up as he picked up the latest issue of Motor
Freak. The cover displayed a woman in a bikini straddling a motorcycle.
Oh no you dont. Your mother would kill me; anyways youre too young for that. Right?
Can I at least go to the car show with you and Dad next week?
The comic book convention is the same day. You dont want to see all your favorite super
heroes?
Uncle Mitch.I dont mean to hurt your feelings.but super heroes are kinda for the little
kids.
What about the White Man?
The kids in school say that hes a hoax. Some kids say that he works for the cops. I dont know
if hes really a hero.
Ouch. Maybe one day youll meet him and see how cool he is.
Sure.
We continued our walk through the mall, just exchanging a few words about baseball, cars, and
sneakers. Nothing too deep or profound, just guy talk. I wanted to turn back the clock so badly, to
the time when Jacks spirit wasnt chained down by peer pressure.
He came out of nowhere literally. A man in his 40s, wearing pajamas, balancing on the railing
of the third floor. He was laughing and grinning and shouting. He sang this crazy song (to the tune of
American Pie):
Did you ever chew on a monkeys spleen?
Or kiss the skull of James Dean?
Life can be so cruel and mean.
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And if you run around like a choo-choo train,
Will the count you among the insane?
Oh dont let em unravel your brain!

Well, I know youre on the slim,
And those genes are wearin mighty thin,
The band struck up and played,
But their logic was delayed.

I started singin
Bye-bye neon octopi,
Swimmin through Lady Libertys eyes,
Drownin in a lake of cherry cyanide,
With each needle something dies inside,
Sweet Thorazine Lullaby.

And the drug I love the most,
Sunny side up tie dyed glasnost,
Sailed away on French toast,
The day my cerebellum died.

Jack. Stay here. Right here. Got it?
Uncle Mitch is he gonna fall?
I knelt down in front of him. Jack. Im.Im going to get mall security. But youve got to stay
here. Right here. No matter what. OK?
OK.
I ran for the bathroom. Oh God, please dont let anyone take Jack. Please. I popped the
artifact in my mouth and suited up. I had super strength, but what I needed was a bit of luck.
I was pushing people out of the way as I scrambled up the escalator; Im sure that would do
wonders for my image. Mr. Pajamas was still teetering on the brink of doom, chuckling and laughing
and giggling. I was only two feet away when he went over the edge. I jumped after him, caught him,
and we plummeted to the cold, slick tiles below. As we fell, I looked at Jack.
I hit the ground first and broke our fall. I lay there a moment, breathing a sigh of relief. The
man rolled off me, straightened his ducky slippers, and did a happy dance.
Wow. Amazing! Absolutely Stupendous! Just simply Motown-Midnight-Mayhem-
Miraculous! He spun around and made little space ship sounds while waving his arms.
I grabbed his hand. Are you OK?
Suddenly, his face softened. Mitch?
I dont know you. How did you know my name?
The police came and led him away. Whatever came over him was almost gone.
This is stupendous! Ill have to call President Ronald Lincoln Nixon Eisenhower Patton and tell
him to build one of these everywhere! But he turned to me and gave me a salute.

You what?!! Maggie grabbed me.
I couldnt take him with me. It was way too dangerous.
Thats itno more outings. My God Mitch! Someone couldve taken him. That is totally
irresponsible!
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Jack was sitting on the front steps. Am I in trouble?
I sat down next to him. You? No. Im in trouble. I blew it Jack.
But you went to get help.
I know. But I still blew it.
You did the right thing, didnt you?
I did Jack. But I also let you down. Sometimes, life is just complicated.
This isnt fair.
Like I said Jack life isnt fair, its complicated.

I went to the police station in full armor. I had enough of a reputation to be let in to see the
man who had complicated my Saturday morning. He was driving an imaginary police car, running
around his cell, happily bouncing off the walls literally. Every now and then he would look at me, but
nothing on his face told me that he had any idea of who I was.
The officer next to me tapped on his tablet computer. If he wasnt wearing a patient bracelet,
we never would have identified him. He is Eric Smith, resident of Rivenburg Hospital.
Rivenburg? Wasnt that place closed years ago?
It was on the States closure list, but a last ditch effort by the congressman saved it. It really
shouldve been allowed to simply fade away. I have a cousin who works there its a dismal,
underfunded, forgotten place.
How did he get out?
Thats a mystery.

Two days later, while driving through downtown, my morning was interrupted by police sirens. I
looked around to see what the problem was, but the city nonchalantly went on with its day. It was only
when the helicopters arrived that I bothered to look up.
Eric was dancing and prancing on a tenth story ledge, singing his song. He looked up at the sky
and spread his arms out, a big grin on his face. I pulled into a nearby parking lot, shoved money in the
meter, and ran to save this lunatic. I almost got hit myself crossing the street.
So here I was, a super hero waiting on an elevator; the whole scene was a surreal nightmare
that I just couldnt escape. I got in and pushed 10. It was just strange hearing quaint music while on my
way to preventing a gruesome suicide this was something that would never make the pages of a comic
book.
Youre goin to 10 to save that crazy? A man next to me asked while sipping on his coffee.
Yep.
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Better you than the cops. We shouldnt have to waste tax payer dollars on this kinda
#$@$&%.
On the inside I was sighing and rolling my eyes. Have a good day sir. The door opened and I
bolted out.
Space needles! What we need right now are space needles! Eric was as happy as a clam.
Mr. Smith. Please come inside.
Kentucky ducky got lucky at midnight! He sang. Went to the store, got some more, started
to pour and pour and pour! He laughed and laughed and laughed like it was his last day on earth.
Eric! Get in here before you kill yourself!
Alabama Pajama crashed at the moto-rama! Oh Eisenhower Nevada Lincoln!
I grabbed him and pulled him to safety. Its me Mitch. Dont you recognize me?
Hello sir. He smiled. Do you want pancakes with that?
I touched his face. Eric. Ive come to take you home.
Mitch? Is that you?
Yes. Im here.
I could see him relax. Thank you. Everything was just a blur for a moment.
Eric, weve never met before. How do you know my name?
Mitch stop joking. Weve been friends ever since I can remember. You know, the times when
you were around were always the best times. Theyre what keep me going.
Eric was safely in the back seat of the police car, shouting out random things, such as car brands,
dates, and elements from the periodic table. When he wasnt doing that, he was licking the window.
Wasnt there something I could do?

The rain gently tapped on the windows of the psychiatrists office. I stood there admiring his
many degrees that hung from the aging, yellow walls. I looked closer: were those ants crawling up and
down the walls? Maybe they were coming from the warped linoleum tiles beneath my feet.
Im sorry, even Mr. Smith has confidentiality rights. Dr. Van Lueften summarily pronounced as
he looked up from Erics file.
Im not asking for his patient history doctor. Im asking what can be done for him.
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Weve tried everything.practically everything has been done for and to- him. Light therapy,
electromagnetic therapy, gene therapy, nuclear neuro-stimulation, hypnosis, and even a few therapies
that are not on the books.
Sounds like hes gone through a lot.
He has. The last thing he needs is a super hero savior fantasy.
We all need a super hero sometimes.
Mr. Smith does not. He has Rivenburg.
I walked up to the window and gently rapped on the steel cage. But Rivenburg is failing him.
Rivenburg is failing him? Really? Not so. The State is failing him. Were not the villains here,
White Man, the politicians and the tax payers are.
What about his family?
We are his family.
I walked out of his office and turned in the doorway. I can help him.
I know you can. But for how long?

The next several months were trying. Sometimes I would get to Eric at just the right moment,
sometimes I wouldnt. Eric was hit by a car on two separate occasions; the first hit was minor, the
second was serious.
I sat in Rivenburgs patient lounge, desperately holding Erics hands. Eric, how do you get out of
here?
I dont know. I just part reality like a curtain, step through, and then Im where I want to be.
He gently smiled.
But why Eagle Crest? Its not the most exciting or interesting place on the planet.
I think.I think I grew up there.
You know, this place isnt so bad.
Yes it is.
Two orderlies walked up behind him. Eric, lets go. Weve got something that will make you
happy.
What are you doing? I let go of Erics hands and stood up.
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Im sorry, but we cant discuss Mr. Smiths treatment. Patient confidentiality. One of the
orderlies politely answered.
You cant hold his hands forever. The other one whispered.
I stood outside Erics room. He was resting peacefully.
Dr. Van Lueften walked up beside me. Its a medically induced coma.
How long?
Until we find a cure years, decades perhaps.

I rang Jess doorbell.
Mitch? Whats the matter?
I dont want to be alone tonight.

Bfk
2014 Benjamin F. Kaye