Empowered: Act 1, Part 5

Empowered: Act 1, Part 5

Here we are in the second-to-last post of Act 1! Hope you’re all enjoying it so far as the first act alone is longer than Wood You Be Mine? I’m doing my best to not make the story drag and make each party meaty and meaningful, and my #1 concern is that all of you are liking it so far, and if that’s the case, I’ll keep going with this blog as long as I have ideas. That said, let’s continue the story of Carl, El, Spore, and the rest of the cast of Empowered! P.S.: To all my high school friends, Octane and Doc Drain are based off people from Methacton. Points if you can figure out who.

The next morning, after a night where sleep was intermittent and turning your brain off was impossible, Carl knew he needed to text El right away. The wave of raw emotions from the previous night had subsided, and he felt a burden of guilt upon him. Grabbing his phone, he quickly typed out a message in the hopes of patching things up.

Feeling a twinge of relief, Carl put his phone back on his nightstand and stared up at the ceiling. Any time they bickered, they always managed to make up the next day; neither of them wanted to stay angry at the other. There was a love between the two, and it’d take a lot more than that to ruin seven years of friendship.

Lately, however, they’ve been arguing more and more. Carl sometimes wondered if the apologies were just putting a band-aid on a bullet hole.

Carl did his best not to think of it and continued to lay in bed; it was be one of those days where even the idea of getting up to do something felt like it would take all the effort in the world. As he just laid, his mind was deprived of thought, and when he did finally manage to get up, he apathetically watched mindless TV, ate his mom’s leftover tuna casserole, toyed with the idea of working out, ate more casserole, showered, and got ready for bed. They day had gone by in a blink, as most do when you dread the one to come.

As the hours melted away and the darkness of night blanketed the sky, Carl was once again laying on his bed. Closing his eyes, he mused about how the only silver lining to tomorrow was that it marked the start of his final year of high school. Each day there would just be him going through the motions, and as he looked back on previous years, he found it impossible to pinpoint individual days. The past three years felt like an amorphous blob of a memory with nothing special or distinctive about it.

He never tried to kid himself in to thinking that he’d someday consider these the best years of his life.


*err* *err* *err* *err* *err* *err* *err* *err*

It felt like Carl had only been asleep for moments when his alarm clocked ripped him awake. Slamming the snooze button with the open palm of his hand, he hoped to get a few more minutes of rest in before having to get up.

Like a banshee, Insight howled, “Get up, Carl!”

This, it turned out, was a pipe dream.

“Mnmnmnnnnmn…” he moaned.

Using what felt like all his strength, Carl sat up in bed, shifted to plant both feet on the ground, and began rubbing his face with his hands. As his elbows rested on his thighs, he got comfortable once again and started to drift off.

“Don’t you fall back to sleep on me, young man!” she screamed once more.

Throwing his body off the bed, Carl went through his closet to find something passable to wear; he never had the best sense of style but figured you can’t go wrong with a polo shirt and jeans. After briskly rubbing on some deodorant (six swipes on each side) he slid his arms in to the holes of the baby blue polo, pulled his head through the top, and straightened it out. He chose a faded pair of jeans hanging in his closet; this time he was more thoughtful about its aroma.

Walking out of his room and making left towards the bathroom, he could hear the *wrrrr* of his sister’s hairdryer. Knowing better than to just walk in on her, he instead knocked and asked, “Iris, you almost done?”

“I’M DOIN’ MY HAIR!” she screamed, “GO AWAY!”

“How the hell long does it take you to do your hair! I woke up to you drying it a half hour ago!” Turned his head towards the downstairs, he yelled, “Ma! Tell Iris to hurry up!”

“Iris! Let Carl use the bathroom!”

“OH MY GOD, I HATE THIS HO– USE!” she screeched as the door to the bathroom flung open.

“Then move out,” Carl muttered to her as she exited.

“I wish,” she said with a huff.

As Carl was just about to head in to the bathroom, he heard a high-pitched voice say his name. It was Mesmer, his little brother.

“Hey, Carl.”

“Hey, little man,” Carl responded as he turned to look at him, “what’s…”

Locking in to Carl’s eyes, Mesmer simply stated, “You wanted to use the bathroom later, right?”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Carl said in superficial agreement, “Yeah…I, uh, I wanted to use it later.” He then moved out of the way and let Mesmer run in.

“Thanks, Carl!”

The moment Mesmer broke eye contact, Carl violently shook his head and snapped back in to consciousness. “You’re…oh, you little shit!” he yelled, banging on the door. “I’m gonna kill you when you get outta there!”

Mesmer let out a high, squeaky laugh as Carl heard the door lock shut.

Carl moped down the stairs; if the morning were any indication of how the rest of the year was going to be, it was going to be a long-ass nine months.

“Did you wash up, hon?”

“No, ma. You gotta tell Mesmer to stop screwing with me.”

“Mesmer!” Insight screamed without missing a beat, “get down here this instant!”

“Why!” he yelled back.

“Because I said so!”

Mesmer sauntered down the stairs in trepidation; the Freeman children always knew when they were about to get yelled at.

What did I tell you about hypnotizing your siblings?” she reprimanded.

“It’s not my fault he’s a retard, ma!”

“You will watch your language, young man! Answer the question: What did I tell you?”

Under his breath, Mesmer murmured, “You told me not to…”

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘You told me not to’!”

“That’s right. Now apologize to your brother,” she commanded.

“Sorry, Carl,” he muttered listlessly.

“It’s whatever, little man.”

“Carl, get washed up. We need to leave soon, and I don’t want to be late for work. Iris!” she then yelled to the upstairs room on the far right. “Is Wavelength still coming to get you?”

“Yes, mom!” she screamed back in response. “Just like she did last week and every day last year when you asked! Anything else I can answer for you for the hundredth time!”

“I swear, that child goes off to college and she acts like she’s the damn queen of this castle,” she muttered to herself. In a normal tone, she then added, “Carl. Go do what you gotta do.”

Finally having his chance to get in to the bathroom, Carl reached for the knob but was met with that familiar locked sound.



The two Freeman boys jumped in to the car, Mesmer up front while Carl sprawled out in the back. After pulling up to Mesmer’s school and, to his horror, asking him for a kiss on the cheek (“My friends are watching!”), Insight left him with the same warning she does every year: The teachers are trained against psychic abilities, so don’t even dare attempt anything. And with that, Mesmer left the car, and Insight proceeded to take Carl to school.

While gazing in to the rear view mirror, Insight inquired, “Carl, baby, you wanna hop up front?”

“I’m good back here.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Carl.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you feeling better?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’m fine.”


“I’m fine, ma.”

The theme of the conversation was curtness, so Insight decided it best to just remain quiet and drove in silence until she pulled up to the high school just as she did the junior high a few minutes earlier.

“Are you okay with taking the bus home?”

“I don’t got a choice, do I?”

“Your grandmother promised you her car for Christmas, remember? You can wait a few more months.”

“I guess. I gotta get in alright? Bell’s about to ring.”

“Okay. Bye, hon,” she said with a soft smile.

“Bye,” he replied back, already halfway out the vehicle.

Carl exited the car, and as he did, the bright sun hit him in the eyes, causing him to raise one hand up to block it while the other hand clung to the strap of his backpack, which was casually hanging off of one shoulder.

Immediately upon entering the school, Carl was amazed by how different it seemed to be from just two days ago. The hallways were crowded with both students and teachers; the air was filled with the sharp, tinny sounds of lockers being slammed and the acrid smells of cheap cologne soaked in to the clothes of incumbent freshman boys.

What a difference, Carl thought as he headed in to homeroom.

“And she was most definitely…wait for it…hot and bothered!” Carl overheard.

Maybe not that different.

Carl walked in and caught eyes with El; their last names were just close enough to get assigned to the same homeroom. The look they shared only lasted a moment, but it was lamentable and spoke volumes as both looked down and away the second it happened. Carl knew things would be fine, but he still felt terrible about the whole situation. For the time being, he decided to pretend like nothing happened and took a seat next to El and another buddy of theirs, Octane, who was one of the few to not yet hear any of El’s summer escapades.

Not that it would’ve stopped El if he had.

“Yo, Octane. What’s good, homie? Haven’t seen you since you left for your trip,” Carl said as the two shared a high five.

Octane, whose mouth always moved faster than his brain, responded with “Oh, so, dude, dude, dude, listen. We went on this trip to, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,” his hand was now furiously tapping on his desk, “Mexico, and dude, it was like, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, and I met this chick, and I-I-I-I-I…ya know?”

“Nope,” El said.

“But God bless you for trying,” Carl added.

“Dudes, it was just…UGH, ya know? That’s how nuts that shit is. Yeah, so anyway, how was your summer, big C?”

“It was…” Carl began.

“Oh! Oh! Dude! Dude! Dude! Just remembered something crazy.” He then turned and said, “Sorry, Carl, anyway…”

Just then, Octane himself was interrupted as Mr. Woods came in to take attendance. He dispensed with the cursory introduction and then rattled through the names on the sheet to see if everyone was in, using a check mark or an X for yes or no.

“Yo, Ock, what period Honors English you get?” Carl asked.

“Uhhhh…not sure.”

“Can you check? Didn’t you get your schedule in the mail last week?” Carl asked, confused, but not surprised, that Octane didn’t seem to think to do that.

“Ah, ha, shit, yeah,” he said, then turned to his bag and with blinding speed rummaged around for his printed-out schedule, finding it in a quarter of the time it would’ve taken most everyone else.

“Uhhhh…yeah. Looks like third period.”

“With Ms. Griffin?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Carl was relieved; this was the same period as him. Knowing a good friend of yours has the same class as you takes half the anxiety out of the first day.

“Nice. I had her last year; she arranges the desk in tables and lets you sit wherever. Can you save me a seat where you’re at since you’re gonna get there before me?”

“My section’s VIP only. Sorry, bitch.”

“Ha!” El let out with an amused laugh.

“Ha, nah, I’ll save you a seat. We got a retard quota we gotta fill anyway. New school policy.”

“Thanks, Cocktane.”

“Language, Freeman,” Mr. Woods replied absentmindedly while looking down at his class schedules. Turning to his watch, he then called out, “Alright, everyone quiet down for the morning announcements.”

Grabbing the remote on his desk, he turned on the small, sixteen-inch TV that as attached to the top right corner of the wall for the morning report.

“So, Ock,” El asked, “are you not doing the TV production crew this year?”

“I am, why?”

Using his head, El gestured to the TV, which now displayed a lone girl sitting at a news desk for two. “Hello, class, I’m Vector Diaz…”

“Ah, crap! Mr. Woods, I need to…”

“I remember. I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to.”

“Word. Alright, see ya fuckers!” Octane replied, and within seconds, he turned in to a blur of colors as his chestnut brown hair flew back. In what felt like no time at all, he went from sitting at his desk in homeroom to sitting at the news desk on the TV, the papers in front of Vector blowing all around her as she shot Octane an irritated glare.

“…and I’m Octane Rivers, everyone, wishing you all a gah-gah-great start to the new school year!” he exclaimed with a big, charismatic smile.

“Never changes, does he, El?” Carl asked.

“I certainly hope not,” he replied.

“Come to think of it,” Carl said while scratching his chin, “he’s not even supposed to be in this homeroom anyway.”

With a smile and shake of his head, El merely responded, “Incredible.”

They were both quiet for a beat, and Carl once again apologized.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. It is what it is.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“I’m a big boy; it’s fine. We’re good, okay?”

Carl looked down slightly and nodded. He didn’t understand how El could forgive so readily, nor did he feel that he completely deserved it.

“Now on to more important things: Did you stalk that chick yet?”

“Come on, man,” Carl said, feigning offense, “give me some credit.”


“Alright, I may have done a quick search…”

“Carl P. Freeman…”

“There are four other Spores in the greater Los Angeles area; none of ‘em are under 18.”

“Good. Good,” El quietly stated with an acknowledging nod of his head.

“It’s a mute point anyway, she…”

“Moot,” El corrected.


“It’s moot point, not a mute point. Your point didn’t have its vocal chords ripped out or some shit.”

“Every time, man. Is that really necessary?”

“Sorry. Keep going.”

Continuing, Carl stated, “Anyway, it’s a moot point because she wasn’t into me.”

“You don’t know that. You said she was doing some assignment, right? I mean, granted there’s the overwhelming likelihood that she was blowing you off because, well, you’re you.”


“But it could be that she really did just want to do well on it,” El said, attempting to give Carl a bit of hope.


“But, I mean…she was probably blowing you off.”

He figured it best not let Carl get too hopeful. Just in case.

“Appreciate, man. Thanks.”

“It’s what I do.”


“Alright,” El said as they both stood up to the sound of the bell, “see you in Enviro?”

“Yep,” Carl replied as the two exchanged a high five, “see ya, man.”

“See ya, bruddha.”

Things progressed as one would expect the first day to, super-powered high school or not: Names were called, seats were assigned, homework was given, students awkwardly looked for friends to sit with at lunch, and girls were mercilessly ogled.

By the time Carl stepped in to room A142 for Advanced Placement Environmental Science, or AP Enviro to everyone who was taking it, the day was almost through. Having gotten turned around, Carl was a minute late when he arrived. The teacher was just finishing up the attendance as Carl interrupted.

“—ummers, has anyone seen a…”

“Here, here!” Carl exclaimed, “Carl Freeman! Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Freeman, but do try to show up on time, please,” the teacher said aridly.

“Sorry, sir,” he said to Mr. Winters as he took a seat behind El, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“ ‘Sup, sexy.”

“Hey, lover,” El rejoined in a whisper, “how’s the day so far?”

“Aight. Saw that Wang’s in my gym class, though.”

“Ah, fuck that dude,” he heard from another student.

Turning to his right, he saw Octane seated next to El. Carl gave him a surprised look and said, “Yo, man. Didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Yeah, I signed up for it, like, like, an hour ago. Guidance counselor told me I needed to switch out of Intro to Film because I needed a science credit, and it was between this and Physics.”

“You didn’t know you needed a science class?”

“I did. I was just sort of hoping no one would notice.”

“Alright, alright, everyone listen. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Mr. Winters. I’ll be teaching Advanced Placement Environmental Science to you all this year.”

El cupped his hands, put them to his mouth and yelled, “Doc Drain! Drain Train! Whoop whoop!”

The good doctor, whose ability was the absorption and redirection of kinetic energy, was affectionately known as ‘Doc Drain’ to his students. A student years ago labeled him that, knowing he’d be too apathetic to care.

In his droning way of speaking, Doc Drain replied, “And yes, it is common knowledge that everyone prefers to call me by my first name. Be that as it may, as long as you get your work done and do not make my life any harder than it already is, you may call me whatever you would like. Even ‘Sally.’ ”

He then, cracking the smallest of smiles, let out a quick, paltry laugh at his own joke as the rest of the class remained silent, unsure whether or not he was serious.

“Moving on, we have exactly twelve people in this class, so I want you all to briefly talk amongst yourselves and find a partner for the first half of the year, keeping in mind that this will be your science companion until January.” He then added, unironically, “No pressure.”

Carl was confused; by his count, there were only eleven students total. Regardless, he didn’t pay much mind to this as both he and El ascended from their desks. “So I guess you and I…” Carl began.

Just then, another body ran through the door of room A142. It was a girl.

It was her.

“Sorry, sorry!” she exclaimed apologetically. “I’m still getting used to the layout here! I’m Spore Summers.” She then set her books down on a desk two behind where Carl was standing.

Carl noticed her before she had a chance to notice him.

Goddamnit, it makes sense she’d take this class. Why the hell didn’t I think that? he thought, reprimanding himself.

“Thank you, Ms. Summers,” Doc Drain let slowly seep out, giving her the same spiel he gave Carl moments ago, “but please remember to do show up on time. As it stands right now, we are currently choosing lab partners.”

“Dude,” Carl whispered to El, “why didn’t you tell me she was in this class if you heard him call attendance!”

“You said there were at least four other Spores in the greater Los Angeles area! I didn’t want to just recklessly jump to conclusions. That’s how people get hurt, Carl.”

Carl sighed, “Whatever, I’ll nod or whatever if we make eye contact, but I’m gonna do everything I can to…”

It was then that Carl noticed the devious look in El’s crystal blue eyes.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

El’s grin was a diabolical one that encompassed his entire face.

He simply stated, “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

Carl’s eyes widened.

“Oh, you motherfucker.”

“Go with God, my child.”

Then, with the faintest pokes of his forefinger, El, for the second time in less than a week, sent Carl stumbling backwards and in to Spore. He then nonchalantly turned to Octane and asked, “So, Ock, partners?”

“Oh, sorry, my friend there…” Carl stated as he knocked in to her, doing his best to pretend like he didn’t know who it was that he had just staggered in to.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, genuinely happy to see him, “Carl, right?”

“Hey, uh…Sprout?” Carl responded, trying to be cool.

“Um, no. Spore.”

“Ah, yeah, right, right.”

Audibly, El snickered.

“Hey, so, would you want to be my lab partner? I mean,” she laughed, “you’re actually, like, one of two people I know so far.”

“Oh,” Carl said, taken aback. “Yeah, cool. That’d be cool. I mean, everyone here is gonna be crazy disappointed that they won’t get to be my partner, but there’s only so much Carl to go around, ya know?” A bit of playful confidence shined through.

“Wow, so you’re like…really popular it sounds like,” Spore rejoined in good-natured sarcasm.

“It’s a curse, really. Honestly, it’s downright selfish of me to limit myself to just one partner.”

“It really, really is,” she playfully agreed.

“They need to allow some sort of science-class polygamy,” he said with a smirk.

She once again let out that beautiful, full-bodied laugh.

While looking down at his desk and straightening out a stack of papers, Doc Drain asked in his trademark lifeless drawl, “Do we have all our partners? That’s fantastic,” not allowing any time for students to actually respond. “Now, if you can all take a seat – you can sit wherever you would like – we are going to take a small practice quiz to see what you know. It will not count towards your grade.”

The students all plopped in to their seats; Carl sat three seats in on the side farthest to the left with El in front of him, Spore behind him, and Octane to his right.

While everyone settled in, El raised his hand and asked, “So what’s the incentive to do well?”

“Always the smartass,” Ock leaned in and replied in his ear.

“Fine,” Doc Drain responded, “it will now be graded.”

Groans emanated throughout the class.

“Ha…” El said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Whoops?”

Despite his misstep, El managed to (annoyingly so) get a 10 out of 10 on the quiz, Ock received a respectable 7 out of 10, and Spore, not surprisingly, also received a perfect score.

Carl got a 5.

“It’s fine,” Spore said as he made conversation with her after class. “First quiz of the year. Don’t sweat it.”

“Psh, yeah, I’m not too worried,” Carl replied, lying through his teeth.

She probably think I’m a fuckin’ moron now.

“See ya tomorrow, pal,” El said as he walked by. Then, taking a moment to formally introduce himself to Spore, he stretched out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Elcsum, but everyone just calls me ‘El’.”

With a *swish* Octane stood momentarily next to El and similarly stated, “I’m-Octane-but-you-can-call-me-Ock.” Then just as quickly zoomed off saying, “Sorry-got-to-get-to-the-computer-lab.”

Momentarily befuddled, Spore shrugged it off and then turned to El to playfully scold him. “So you’re the jerk who made the quiz count towards our actual grade, huh?”

“It’s true; I am quite the jerk. And although Carl here didn’t get top marks, had it been a handsome test, he would’ve been first in the class, right?”

Carl looked at El mortified.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I…yeah, gotta go,” she said. She then waved casually. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See…see ya,” Carl responded.

“Have a good one,” El added, smiling wide.

Waiting for her to exit the classroom, Carl turned to El and just said, “Dude!”

“Hindsight being 20/20, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You think!”

“Well, now that I look like a jackass in front of her, it makes you look all the better. You can thank me later when you’re dick-deep in poontang.”

“Jesus, between you and Ock, it’s like I’m a lightning rod for retards.”

“Wah, wah, wah. Anyway, wanna hit up the diner?”

“Nah, man. I wanna head home and work out.”

“So methodical about that now. Boring.”

“Hey, we can’t all be naturally strong like you, you dick.”

“Not my fault I’d have to bench press a goddamn locomotive to even get a tiny burn,” El whined. Despite his powers, the boy was actually quite slender.

“Now who’s the one crying? Poor baby, are your diamond slippers too tight as well?”

“…they pinch.”


“Want me to drop you off at least?”

“Yeah, I was actually gonna ask, my mom ain’t gonna be able to pick me up. You mind giving me rides home?”

“Yeah, man. No sweat. I’ll pick ya up, too. I’ll take the spare car so I don’t have to hear you bitch the entire time.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Nah, no big deal. No one wants to be driven by their mom every day, not even one as foine as yours.”


“I’m just saying, man. Milf-town, USA.”

“Lettin’ it go because you just agreed to drive me, but you ain’t makin’ it easy.”

“Haha, I’ll stop. Alright, let’s ditch this bitch.”



Methacton friends (and by that, I mean Alex and Michelle), were you able to peg who the characters were based off of? And to everyone else, how’d you like the latest post?

As Spore and Carl become lab partners, things finally get put in to motion, leading to next week’s heart-pounding conclusion to Act 1! Remember to share your thoughts on Facebook or Twitter. Will romance bloom for young Carl?

Empowered: Act 1, Part 4

Empowered: Act 1, Part 4

In what’s undoubtedly my most dramatic post to date (yes, even more so that the Saggezza/Magdalena reunion in Wood You Be Mine?), Carl comes face-to-face with an old rival…and an old friend. We’ve reached the turning point of Act 1, and the question raised is, when things spiral out of control, will Carl be able to pick up the pieces? Act 1, Part 4 starts now:

The next morning, as Carl tried to sleep his misery away, he was, much to his displeasure, awoken by his best friend who was effortlessly leaping up two stories and shouting in to Carl’s open window.



*thunk* *swish*


With a pathetic moan, Carl pulled his sheets over his head.

*thunk* *swish*

El took the hint and promptly discarded it.


*thunk* *swish*


“What!” Carl finally screamed.

*thunk* *swish*

“Guess who I penetrated last night!”

*thunk* *swish*

Carl, now face down on his bed, grabbed a pillow to cover his head in an attempt to block out El.

*thunk* *swish*


All I want right now is to sleep, Carl thought as he let out a belabored moan.

*thunk* *swish*

“That’s exactly what she sounded like!”

“Please fuck off,” he muttered in a muffled voice.

Ignoring his friend’s request, El grabbed the ledge to the open window, thrust his body, legs first, over the sill, and made his way in.

The annoyance continued.

“Carl. Carl. Carl. Carl. Carl.”

“Wha-a-a-a-a-a-t?” Carl whimpered feebly.

“What’s up, buddy?”

It was obvious to anyone that El was dying to brag, but Carl, never having so much as kissed a girl, wasn’t too keen on hearing his friend’s sex story. Had he higher confidence, perhaps things would been different, but as it stood, he was inexperienced and uncertain of himself. But what he was certain of was trying to get El to drop it was futile.

“Alright, man,” he lightly moaned while pushing himself up from a supine position to lean against his headboard, “let’s hear it.”

Eagerly taking a seat on the edge of Carl’s bed, El began to relay what happened the previous night with the vigor and enthusiasm of a Greek poet singing his song around a fire.

“Picture it:” he started, “We’re at the dance, the music’s playing, our eyes meet from across the room,” he then paused for dramatic effect and expanded his arms with his palms opened wide, “and time slows down.”

“Who was it?”


“Explains the part about time slowin’ down.”

“It was very West Side Story.”

“What else happened?”

“Well, I went over to her; we started dancing. I had her slow things down around us a bit more so we could get a few good grinds in before any teacher could come break it up.”

“Gotta leave room for the Holy Spirit, my man.”

“Ha, seriously. Anyway, she then said we should go out to her car, and after that, it was game over.”

“She good?”

“Yeah, man. Her powers made it last twice as long as normal. It was fucking awesome.”

“Oh, so you got to disappoint a girl for an entire minute this time, huh?”

“Best goddamn minute of her life! Anyway, what about you? You never went in to detail with that chick from last night.”

“Uh, her name’s Spore; she’s new. She was there doing a photo assignment or some shit. Wants to be on the yearbook staff.”

“Yearbook staff? Yikes. Geek rejection is the worst kind of rejection. But hey, that’s what you get for trying to steal our womens.”

Dryly, Carl remarked while shaking his head, “Racism’s fun, man.”

“Sure is!” El agreed, tongue-in-cheek. “Anyway, let’s do something!”

“Why do you have so much energy?”

“You know how I get after hooking up! Come on, man; breakfast on me.”

Rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn, Carl said in agreement, “Wake me up from a nice sleep, goddamn right breakfast on you. Lemme get dressed and see if I can borrow the car.”

“Why? I can just hop us around.”

“I know you can. That’s why I wanna borrow the car.”

“Such a baby. Fine, I’ll wait outside.”

“Aight, I’ll be out in two minutes.”

“Be quick about it; I’m starving,” El exclaimed right before diving head first out the window as if he were jumping in to a pool. As he sailed through the air, he twisted his body upright and landed nimbly on his feet, his specialty shock-absorbent sneakers soaking in the bulk of the impact. Immediately upon landing, El gave a quick hop over to the Freeman family car and glanced in to the window to ensure his hair wasn’t too tussled.

Carl, meanwhile, threw on a solid red t-shirt and black Nike mesh shorts, slipped his feet in to a pair of sandals by his door, quickly brushed his teeth, and headed downstairs to find his mom washing the dishes.

“Can I borrow the car?” he asked his mom, foregoing any ideal conversation.

“And good morning to you, too, young man,” she responded without looking up.

“Sorry, good morning. Can I borrow the car?” Carl asked, purposefully keeping his statements short as he was eager to leave.

“What for?” she questioned, always intent on knowing what her children were doing.

“El’s here; we’re gonna go out.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“He’s buying breakfast.”

“Y’all shouldn’t be fools spending your money like that when we have food here,” she asserted, her voice mild with discontent.

“He offered, and I ain’t gonna say no.”

Growing up poor and being taught to save money, Insight let out a disapproving sigh and responded, “Just don’t get back too late.”

“I won’t,” he said as he made a beeline for the door, grabbing the keys off the kitchen countertop as he did.

“I love you, hon,” she called out to him.

Without looking back, he swung the door open and nonchalantly replied, “You, too.”

Walking outside, he saw El still fiddling with his hair in the window. “You look gorgeous,” Carl quipped, “Come on, get in the car.”

“Sorry about that. You know, I sometimes get lost in my own eyes.”

Ignoring his comment, Carl asked, “You wanna hit up the mall? Grab something in the food court?”

“Sounds good to me. We can also check out the Gap. They probably have one of those end-of-summer clearance sales. Maybe we can get some of those nice tight shirts that show off your chesticles.”

“Mediums fit me weird,” Carl murmured, slightly embarrassed, while turning the key to start the engine.

“Ha! Sure,” El cracked.


El made good on his word and treated Carl to a sausage, egg, and cheese on a biscuit in the food court. Upon finishing, Carl wiped the crumbs from his bottom lip, stood up, and the two headed towards the Gap.

“So how much for me to go in there and ask the lady if she has a pair of jeans with extra crotch space?” El asked, sporting a giant grin at the thought.

Carl wouldn’t get the chance to answer because as they were walking towards the store, he saw Wing Kong, the student who’d been terrorizing Carl for as long as he could remember, walking out.

Wing’s hair, layered, shoulder length, and jet black, was whipped out of the way of his face as he strutted out of the store, though his right eye remained covered. Contrasting the darkness of his hair were the two blindingly white, feathery protrusions sticking out of each side of his back and through the custom slits of his shirt. Currently folded in, at their maximum length, they reached a span of an impressive eight feet.

“Ah, fuck me,” Carl said, shaking his head.

“What?” El asked. He hadn’t yet spotted Wing.

“It’s your little lax buddy,” he muttered. His eyes were now closed, and the sense of impending frustration bore down upon him like a hammer on an anvil.

Looking up to see what he meant, El spotted Wing walking in their direction. With an annoyed glare, El replied, “Dude, you know I hate him as much as you.”

“Whatever,” Carl said, as the two instinctively started changing direction. “Let’s just loop around before he–”

“Look at these two,” Wing mused with a devious smirk. “Hello, Elcsum. And hello, Imp.”

A long time ago, Wing decided ‘Carl’ wasn’t fitting enough of a name and dubbed him with one he felt to be more appropriate: ‘Imp,’ short for ‘Impotent.’

Carl closed his eyes again and tilted his head back in defeat the second he heard that icy, unwavering voice coming from the lean and lithe Chinese-American student.

“Don’t call him that, Wang,” El warned as he and Carl turned to face him.

“So, so clever, El.”

“Dude, anytime, anywhere,” Carl added.

“Like you stand a chance, Imp,” Wing rejoined with a condescending laugh. A rush of power fell over him as he saw Carl’s face contort in to a guise of anger with an underlayer of hopelessness.

Fanning the flames, Wing added, “Honestly, why not do the gene pool a favor and just throw yourself off a building?”

It was hard for Carl to figure out which was worse: What he was saying or the smug look he had while he was saying it.

“Seriously, man,” El fumed, his lividity showing in his face as it turned bright red. “Back. The fuck. Off.”

“Calm down, Elcsum. Carl knows it’s all in good fun, don’t you, Carl?” Wing spouted, mockingly.

Carl’s response was a silent, angry glare.

“I’ll see you two later,” Wing remarked as he glided past Carl on the right. He then added “Take care, Imp” with a shoulder check accompanying the last word.

Feeling flushed with anger, El reached over, grabbed Wing, and jacked him up against the wall, roaring, “I said back the fuck off, Wing!”

“El, I can fucking handle this!” Carl yelled to him.

Keeping a calm composure, Wing merely stated, “Aw, defending your fag boyfriend. How sweet.” And half a second later, before either Carl or El could process it, his wings shot out at full length, and with a single, fierce flap, a small but intense gust of wind was produced, knocking back El and releasing Wing from his grip.

Landing gracefully on his feet, Wing saw no need to acknowledge what had just happened and instead focused on straightening the wrinkles El produced in his new pink Oxford shirt. It was then that a guard started sprinting over and used her abilities to produce a force field to shield off the two warring factions.

“All of you out now! Before I call the cops! You two out the north entrance,” she screamed, pointing at Carl and El, “and you with the wings out the south entrance!”

Wing, without saying a word, turned to Carl to give him a wink and mockingly kissed the air in front of him before floating away.

Carl and El, meanwhile, did as they were told and left the mall in the opposite direction. The two were silent for a full minute, both too angry to speak. The main difference between the two was to whom their anger was directed.

“Don’t let him get to you, man,” El finally said. “He’s the kind of kid whose mommy doesn’t love him or some shit, and he takes it out on everyone else.”

“I could’ve fucking handled it, El,” Carl sneered, not acknowledging El’s remark.

“I know you could’ve,” El agreed, ostensibly. “I just didn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Yeah, great, but I don’t need you to defend me. I’m a grown-ass man; I can take care of shit myself!” Carl’s voice grew loud as he replayed the scene in his head.

“Sorry for helping out my best friend! Christ,” El replied, rolling his eyes.

Carl, now completely stopped in his tracks, screamed, “Did it occur to you that I don’t need your fucking help! You’re not my fucking dad, El!”

El was quiet, his face visible with hurt. Puckering his lips as if to keep in what he really wanted to say, he decided not to further aggravate the situation and merely stated, “You know what? I think I’ll just jump home.” And before Carl had a chance to respond, there was a *swish* followed by a half-hearted “See you later.”

“El, I…” Carl started, unable to finish his sentence.


Now angry more at himself than anyone else, Carl whipped open the door to his car, got in, and started for home. The drive was devoid of music as Carl focused, deep in thought, about what happened. He hated when El defended him like that. Hated it.

He wasn’t a child; El wasn’t his father.

He could handle things himself.

He was just looking out for you, you fuck, he thought, his emotions now in conflict with one another. What the fuck is wrong with you?

He tried his best to block out his thoughts for the remainder of the drive, but this proved impossible. Pulling in to the driveway, he lingered a moment longer than usual, his head resting on the wheel. Taking a few simple, short breaths in and out, he had to force his hand to grab the handle, open the door, and exit the vehicle.

As he entered his home, Carl’s disposition was palpable. Even without her ability, Insight, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table, would’ve been able to tell right away that something was wrong. Her son had a tendency to wear his emotions like a sweater.

“Carl, honey, what’s wrong?”


“When will you learn this back and forth won’t ever work on me?”

Turning towards her and yelling, “I don’t know, ma, probably when you learn if I said nothin’s wrong that it means I don’t wanna talk about it!”

Feeding off his emotions, Insight stood up from her seat, raised an angry finger, and snapped back at her son, “You watch your mouth, first of all! Second of all, that doesn’t and won’t ever stop me from trying to help! It’s you who needs to come to terms with that, not me!”

Carl looked down at the ground like a shamed dog. Muttering, he replied, “I’m sorry, ma. It’s just…”

The was a momentary pause as tears began to run down his eyes.

“Why me, mom?”

Insight hugged her son, stroked his head, and they both cried together.


Well-done drama or cheesy and over-the-top? I’m hoping the former, but it’s never easy to tell with your own writing. Care to tell me what you think? I’m always open to praise and criticism, so hit me up on Facebook or Twitter. My main goal is to give you all a great story; let me know if I’m on the right track.

Empowered: Act 1, Part 3

Empowered: Act 1, Part 3

Time for Act 1, Part 3 of Empowered! This may be my favorite part so far of Act 1 as it marks the full appearance of The Gemini Brothers! As the glue that binds my two stories together, let’s see if they treat Carl the same way they treated Legno. Why were they so callous with him anyway? Time will tell, but for right now, let’s get this party started:

Licking his wounds, Carl began to slink away. And El, seeing his friend with that all-too-familiar blank stare of disappointment, edged up to comfort him.

“So what happened, killer?” El asked, throwing his right arm around Carl’s shoulders.

“Ah, shit, you know, man. Same ‘ol story. She’s afraid I’d be too much man for her and all that. My cock’s just way too big.”

“I hate it when that happens!” El yelled, throwing back his head. “Come on,” he then gave Carl a slap on the back, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“You mean the free punch on the table over there?”

“Someone’s salty!” El exclaimed jovially. “Better make it a double.”

“I don’t know, man,” Carl sighed, his voice heavy with regret, “I think I’d rather just kinda head back.”

“It’s only been twenty minutes! Don’t be a bitch,” El chided.

“Oh, shit! I’m a bitch? Now I totally want to stay here and hang out with you.”

“Ah, sarcasm. It’s a wonder why you’re not more popular,” El quipped with a slightly annoyed smirk.

“Whatever, man. You stay; I’ll walk home.”

“You sure? Come on, man. Mingle. The music hasn’t even started yet!”

“Nah, I’m tired anyway,” Carl lied, hoping it’d get El off his back. “Call me tomorrow, alright?”

Accepting defeat, El finally acquiesced to Carl. “You got it, brotha,” he said, half-heartedly.

The two shook and brought it in for a slight hug and parted. “Later, man,” Carl replied as he began to walk away.

“Later,” El responded, saddened to see his friend go.

As Carl began his exit in to the main hallway, he turned back once more to see Spore, still snapping away, and El, who, within seconds, was already in the middle of getting a number from a tall Indian girl whom he didn’t recognize. Carl was always baffled at how easy El made it seem.

He briefly paused, holding the heavy metal door slightly ajar. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply in and out through his nose, turned, and finally walked out.

While moving towards the exit and past the sign in table, all Carl could hope for was to get home in time to watch something decent on Adult Swim. Hopefully, it’d wash the taste of this night out of his mouth.

“If you’re leaving, you can’t come…” a dull, flat voice began to say.

“I know!” Carl yelled as he continued towards the front door. But before he could get very far, he was stopped by Ms. Hawkins, who was unable to find a teacher to help out the band.

“Excuse me, you there!” she called out.

Turning around to see who it was, he met eyes with the principal, who responded, “Oh, Carl, it’s you. Great! Do you have a quick second to help the band set up? They’re running late enough as it is, and I want to get them on stage before everyone starts rioting,” she said with a slightly forced laugh.

“I actually wanted to…”

“Oh, perfect, thank you!” she said, hearing what she wanted to hear. “No good deed and all that, right?”

With a heavy sigh, Carl responded, “Yeah, right. Sure.”

Visibly relieved, Ms. Hawkins replied, “You’re a lifesaver. Listen, I need to get back inside, but they’re out in the parking lot.” Rushing towards the gym entrance and back to chaperoning, she exclaimed, “Thanks again, Carl!” with her voice trailing off as she ran.

Walking outside and making a right towards the parking lot instead of a left to go home, Carl, annoyed, resolved to help these two as quickly as possible and just head the hell back to his house. Seeing the two men with their van filled with equipment, he approached them and unenthusiastically muttered, “Hey, Ms. Hawkins told me that you guys needed some help.”

The two men turned around simultaneously, and Carl was surprised to see their identical features: Both men had shoulder-length brown hair, bright copper-colored eyes, and thin faces painted with three days worth of stubble. They only difference appeared to be which side their hair was parted on.

“Thanks, kid,” the one brother said, “What’s your name?”


“Hello, Carl. I’m Giovanni; this is my brother, Giuseppe.”

“That’s…interesting. Um…” he began, intrigued by their names.

The brothers stared at Carl as he toyed around with something that he was clearly hesitant to ask.

“What can you two…do?” Carl finally blurted, fully understanding the irony of his question.

Part of him was hoping they could do nothing.

With a big grin on his face, Giuseppe, who was clearly elated that Carl had asked that question, exclaimed, “Well, we rock all the boys and girls as the world famous…” he then paused for effect, threw back his head, stretched out his arms, and finished with “GEMINI BROTHERS!”

Carl turned to Giovanni, “Why is he yelling?”

“It’s…” Giovanni then sighed as he closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hand, “it’s just what he does.”

“Anyway, what I meant was your names don’t describe your powers like everyone else’s.”

Raising his left eyebrow, a befuddled Giuseppe, who up until now was still staring upward with his arms outstretched, brought them to his side and met eyes with Carl. His question to the boy was a mere “What?”

“Your names,” Carl said, speaking more slowly and in a somewhat condescending manner, “what do they mean?”

“Hm,” Giuseppe pondered, “I don’t think we follow.”

Carl shot them a confused look and asked, “How don’t you know how it works?”

The two men turned to each other and shared a smile. Giovanni turned back to Carl and simply replied, “Humor us.”

A look of uncertainty pranced across Carl’s face, but he did as he was asked and explained, “Okay, well, as most people know, before you’re born, doctors are able to detect your power set, and your parents or whoever name you based on that. Like, my brother can hypnotize people, and he’s named Mesmer, and my sister can produce different kinds of EM waves out of her eyes, so she’s called Iris.”

“Giovanni, did you know that?”

“Of course I knew that, Giuseppe. Did you know that?”

“How wouldn’t I know that? Carl, did you know that?”

What the fuck is going on?

“Sorry. It’s just for a second, I thought…”

This never gets any easier.

“…you were like me.”

“Like you how?” questioned Giuseppe

“I…” he breathed in and then let out of heavy sigh, “I don’t have any powers.”


“Are you sure?” Giovanni asked.


“Are. You. Sure?” he asked again, more deliberately.

Mockingly, Carl responded, “Pretty damn sure, man…”

“Maybe you do have powers, and you don’t even realize it,” Giuseppe suggested. “Maybe you have something along the lines of superlative cheese-digesting abilities.”

Carl gave Giuseppe an annoyed stare.

“Lactose supertolerance,” he elaborated.

“Okay, forget it. You two need help bringing this crap in, right?”

“On second thought,” Giovanni answered, looking in to the open van, “I think we can manage.”

“Are you guys for…you know what? Never mind,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. Facetiously, he added, “Good luck with the show.”

He swiftly pivoted to finally start his long walk back home but was stopped half a moment later.

“Why ‘Carl’?” Giovanni inquired.

Turning his head back slightly, Carl asked, “What?”

“Why ‘Carl’?” questioned Giuseppe this time.

“I really don’t get what you guys are asking,” he said, now completely turned around.

“If your brother is ‘Mesmer’…” started Giovanni.

“…and your sister is ‘Iris’…” continued Giuseppe.

“…then why are you ‘Carl’?” they both finished in unison.

Carl gave a quick, annoyed shrug and hastily responded, “I…I don’t know. My mom just liked the way it sounded. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Again, he tried to walk away but was stopped once more.

“Might be the opposite, don’t ya think?” Giuseppe called out.


“What my brother means is,” Giovanni said, “maybe it’s not that it doesn’t mean anything; maybe it’s that it could mean anything.”

“Still not getting it. Anyway, later. Good talk,” he replied with a sarcastic wave of his hand. He then finally managed to get away, grateful that they didn’t try calling him over for a third time.

Once he was completely gone, Giovanni turned to his brother and said, “At least this one’s not an objektophile, Beppe.”

“True,” Giuseppe said with a nod, “but he’s also not as much fun, Gio.”


Carl looped around the building and started making his trek home. His eyes were pointed downward. His hands were in his pockets. He had that overbearing feeling of depression again.

Upset over being shot down.

Jealous of his best friend.

Angry at himself.

It’s never me. It’ll never be me. I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong? I’m nice. I’m funny. I think I’m good looking.

Whatever. Fuck it. I don’t care.


Fiercely staring at the ground, these thoughts repeated in his head over and again until he got in to his house. He walked in and wasted no time in going up the stairs and collapsing on his bed.

As Carl looked around his room, he saw posters of action stars, statues of superheroes, and bookshelves filled with tales of knights and cowboys and wizards and warriors.

All things he wished he could be.

I hate my life.



Solid advice The Geminies gave to Carl, right? But why? What do they care? You’ll find out one day (probably three or four stories down the line…I have a lot planned for you jokers), but for now, just enjoy the ride.

Next week is the Act 1 Finale, and after spending the weekend writing, we may have to bump it up to four (or even five) acts. If you guys keep reading, I’ll keep writing. So let me know how much more you want to see on Facebook or Twitter. And I’m super interested in knowing how this compares to Wood You Be Mine?!

Empowered: Act 1, Part 2

Empowered: Act 1, Part 2

Hey, everyone! We’re back with Act 1, Part 2 of Empowered! For those of you who enjoyed the first part, I think you’ll like this one even more. We’re getting in to the real meat of the story, with old friends and new loves being introduced. And it’s my hope that the story will take you back to the simpler (although perhaps not better) times of high school. I know it’s evoked some memories from me, and I hope it’s the same for you. Let’s begin!

The pair of friends walked through the entrance, the doors having already been propped open. As they did, the reality of school starting again hit them like a tidal wave. Images of times past and times to come rushed through their minds, but all Carl could think was, ‘Our year’…I hope.

After the sensation of nostalgia subsided, Carl and El made their way on to the sign-in line; the teacher seated at the table in front of the gym entrance had the glamorous job of monitoring the attendees. As the two stood there, Carl managed to overhear a name uttered to the teacher, and immediately his stomach felt as if a boxer just unleashed everything he had.

“Wing Kong.”

The voice was cold and metallic.

“Thank you. You’re signed in. Remember, if you leave, you can’t come back in.”

“The horror,” the student replied. Carl could only image the dickhead ‘roll of the eyes’ move that accompanied this.

As the student stepped off the line and in to the gymnasium, El moved in front of the desk.

“Hello, and welcome to the Senior Mixer. Name please?” said the man to El in a dry, hanging drawl that seemed to go on for an eternity.

“Doc Drain! Drain Train! How was your summer?” El exclaimed, much more enthusiastic than he should be.

“Name please?”

“Really?” El said, slightly disheartened. “I had you for Honors Bio last year.”

“Name please?”

“Star of the lacrosse team?”

“Name please?”

Breathing in deeply and letting out a disappointed sigh, he responded, “Elcsum Gray,” and without missing a beat, he added, “And this is my lovely date, Carlita.”

“Fuckin’ hate you,” Carl muttered to El under his breath while shaking his head slightly.

“Thank you,” Mr. Drain Winters, better known as ‘Doc Drain’ to his students, replied as he scribbled down El’s name on to the sheet in front of him. In a tone drier than the Sahara, he continued, “You’re signed in. Remember, if you leave, you can’t come back in.”

“Okay,” El remarked in agreement as he stepped out of the way.

Carl then moved to the front; it was his turn to deal with the good doctor.

“Hello, and welcome to the Senior Mixer. Name please?”

“Carl Freeman.”

“Thank you. You’re signed in. Remember…”

“If I leave, I can’t come back in. Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

Not paying any attention to Carl, Drain finished, “…if you leave, you can’t come back in.” Seeing no need to acknowledge that last statement, Carl walked away from the table and towards El. Before making their way in, they could once again hear “Hello, and welcome to the Senior Mixer” with a flat, dreary inflection that hadn’t changed and likely never will.

“Come on, bud,” El said to Carl as he patted him on the shoulder, “let’s rock this.”

Within minutes, Carl’s prediction had come true, with the exception that music wasn’t yet playing: El was being his usual charming self, and people were huddled around him as witty anecdotes, pithy comebacks, and exaggerated tales of the summer flew at them left and right.

Carl stood, drink in hand, and nodded.

He nodded a lot.

When someone else finally spoke, El pulled him to the side and reprimandingly whispered, “You look like a friggin’ pigeon! What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t know, man. Participating?”

“By making it seem that your head is too heavy for your neck to support it?”

“You were dominating the conversation. What the hell you want me to do?”

“Fine. I’ll set you up, and you knock it down. Be cool!”

Stepping back in to them semicircle of classmates, El interrupted and said, “Carl just reminded me of the greatest thing that happened this summer. Tell ‘em, bud!”

Christ, that’s the goddamn set up? Carl thought. Never one for improvisation, Carl decided to do what he does best.

He choked.


Carl then brought a balled-up fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.

“I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Turning promptly and making a beeline to the lavatory, Carl could overhear El. “Classic Carl! Always leaves ‘em wanting more, right?”

“Stupid!” he mumbled to himself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! ‘I gotta go to the bathroom,’ that’s the best you can come up with? They’ll probably call me ‘Crapper Carl’ or some shit from now on.”

Leaning in with his shoulder to push the bathroom door open, Carl angrily threw his drink in the trash, placed both hands on the cold porcelain sink, and stared in to the mirror.

“Be cool,” he said to his reflection. “You got this shit.”

He unscrewed the left faucet and let it run for a few seconds. He cupped his hands, collected some ice cold water, and splashed it on his face.

“Alright,” he said once again to the mirror, “don’t be a social retard for once.”

Drying off his face and exiting the bathroom, Carl, with a strong, deliberate gait, made his way back to the dance. As he did, he noticed someone else reaching for the door as well.

It was a girl.

“Oh, my bad,” he replied as he pulled the door open and stepped to the side. “After you.”

With a smile and a ‘thank you,’ the girl walked in, and Carl followed shortly after. Not immediately, however; he wanted to give himself a moment to cock his head downward and score a quick glimpse of her backside.

Damn…she’s cute.

Making his way back to El, he gave him a punch on the shoulder to get his attention then promptly grabbed a loose piece of his shirt to drag him over and out of earshot from anyone around.

“Ow!” El whined while rubbing his shoulder, “What the hell, dude?”

“Oh, stop crying. It’s not my fault you’re not as durable as you are strong.”

“I’m fragile. Like a beautiful angel. Now what’s going on? You made us both look like a couple of jackasses when you left.”

“They probably forgot I was there two seconds later,” Carl replied with a roll of his eyes, “and I bet you just told ‘em the story of you and Flame to get the attention back on you anyway.”

“Well, she was most definitely…”

“ ‘…hot and bothered,’ ” Carl said, hastily finishing El’s anecdote, “Yeah, I know, I know. Listen,” he then jerked his head to the left to draw El’s attention to the girl he had just met, who was now standing off in the corner and taking pictures of the event, “do you know who that is?”

The girl, roughly 5’2” with dirty blonde hair, thick black frames, and a petite figure, was holding a large, professional-looking camera, complete with a strap around her neck for safe-keeping. A stranger to both Carl and El, they both looked upon her in awe.

“No clue, man,” El replied. “She must be new.”

“I held the door open for her earlier.”

“Holy shit! How hard did she blow you after that?”

“Fuck off. I’m just sayin’, I kind of have an in. Think I should go talk to her?”

“I mean, it’ll be tough since you’ve gotten rid of the pencil ‘stache and corn rows,” El joked, “but best of luck anyway, man.”

“You’re one to talk. I remember frosted tips and a pizza face not too long ago.”

“It wasn’t that…”

“Connect the dots, lah lah lah lah,” Carl began singing while pointing to different spots on El’s face, “connect the…”

“Just go over there!” El barked with a push, wanting both help out his best friend, and, more so, end the ridicule.

“Alright, alright! Chill!”

Carl, after stumbling slightly from El’s shove, regained his footing and nervously walked over to the girl he had met a few minutes prior. He sidled up next to her, but she was too busy taking pictures of the students and the surrounding area to notice.

“Ah-hem,” he said, clearing his throat.


“AH-HEM,” he said again, even louder.



Noticing the disaster-in-the-making, El gave a nudge to his portly Asian friend and said, “Hey, Brainstorm, do me a favor and TK a little tap on that girl’s shoulder by Carl.”

“You got it, man.”

With a raise of his right hand and a twitch of his left eye, Brainstorm sent the tiniest of prods to prick the girl’s left shoulder. Her attention was immediately turned to where Carl was standing.

Seeing both her and El looking his way at the exact same time, he caught a glimpse of his best friend shooting him a cheesy smile and a ‘wink-and-the-gun’ before looking away.

I coulda done it myself, El, Carl thought, annoyed.

“Um, hey,” was her only response to Carl after turning his way.

“Hi. Hey. Yeah.”

He stared.

After a moment that felt like a millennium, he shot out his hand perfectly straight and parallel with the floor.

“Carl. Is my name.”

“Hi,” she said with a curious smirk while stretching out her hand to meet his, “Spore is mine. Um, thanks again for holding the door open for me.”

Carl, thinking two steps ahead of the conversation, didn’t directly respond to her statement and instead followed up with, “I, uh, haven’t seen you around here. You new?”

The girl gave a slight nod and answered, “Yeah, my parents moved here from North Cali at the beginning of the month. My dad got a new job in the area, so…here we are.”

She didn’t sound overly enthused.

With a half smile, he replied, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Smiling back, she responded with a curious look on her face, “Thanks, you, too…‘Carl,’ you said?”

Before she could ask the follow-up question that always accompanied whenever he told someone his name, he quickly asked, “Spore, huh? Plant manipulation I’m guessing.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s nothing great, really…”

“Ha, I’m sure that’s not true,” he said playfully.

“Judge for yourself,” she responded. She then pointed out a window and said, “Here, I’ll show you. Keep an eye on that tree.”

Dropping her arms to her side, Carl noticed her brown eyes shift to a bright green as she tilted her head to the left.

“Look,” she said.

Now cocking his head to look outside, he saw the top branch on the large oak begin to move; the smaller branches on it contorted to form what looked like fingers. The branch then slowly went up and down, mimicking a wave of the hand.

“That’s pretty cool. I mean, there are a lot of crazy things you can do with phytokinesis. You ever try chemical manipulation and activate any recessive mutation or release pheromones or anything like that?”

With a fairly impressed look on her face, Spore replied, “You sure seem to know a lot about plant biology.”

Carl spent a lot of his free hours reading everything he could on different powers, researching if there were any others out there like him and the possibilities of trying to trigger any latent abilities he might have.

“I read a lot” was his only response.

“Oh, okay. But no, not really. That kind of stuff takes years to develop. My grandma had the same power set, and she was teaching me a lot, but she passed a little while ago.”

He was silent for a second then responded, “Yeah, that’s the worst.”

Carl never knew what to say to people in grief.

“Uh…yeah. Well, anyway, what kind of ability does ‘Carl’ imply?”

“I actually…”

He paused.

This never gets any easier.

“…I actually don’t have any powers.”



“When the doctors did the ultrasound, they didn’t see anything on the monitor. They thought it was a fluke; my mom actually went to two other hospitals, and yeah…nada.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Ha,” Carl said with an uncomfortable laugh, “no one has.”

“I’m…” she paused for a moment, then finished, “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“I manage,” he asserted with a shrug, implying falsely that he accepted his fate. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never get pushed over the edge and in a moment of intensity have fireballs come out of my hands or something.”

Spore furrowed her brow and gave him a quizzical look.

“I, uh…I’m really into sci-fi.”


Deciding to shift gears quickly, Carl gave a quick upward flick of his head and asked, “So, what’s with the camera?”

“Well, when my parents and I came in to enroll the other day, I asked about anything in photography since I’m really into it. It was always something I liked to do, so I was told to take some pictures of the dance for the yearbook.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Real quick,” she said while bringing her camera up to her face, “smile!”

Taken off guard, Carl hadn’t had time to form a normal-looking smile. The end result looked more than a little awkward.

Looking at the preview on her camera, she cocked her head back and gave a full-bodied laugh.

Carl couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked.

“I’ll be sure to get you a copy. But, um, not to be rude, I really need to get back to the assignment.”

“Yeah, right, definitely. Definitely,” he said, nodding a lot once again.

Stop nodding, goddamnit!

At this time, the principal took to the stage that the theater crew put together earlier that week. A microphone and stand were in tow.

*tap tap*

The feedback echoed through the gymnasium, causing everyone, including Carl and Spore, to turn her way.

The principal, a fit black woman draped in purple and much younger than one would expect a principal to be, held the mike in both hands and declared, “Thank you all for coming! I hope you’re all having a great time! For those of you who are new, my name is Ms. Hawkins; hopefully we’ll never have the pleasure of meeting in my office.”

A modest laugh resonated through the room.

“And I apologize for the delay; the band…” she then shot an annoyed glare at the two men standing in the doorway, “…got a little held up. But they just arrived and will be ready to rock your socks soon, so get ready!”

Quickly walking off the stage, Ms. Hawkins approached the two tall, thin men, both wearing matching olive green leather jackets and dark brown corduroy pants.

“Remember to keep it clean,” she said with a mild sneer and an angry forefinger in their faces. “I know the reputation you two have. And we’re not paying in full considering you showed up a full hour late.”

“Do you know how far away Sicily is, love?” the one man piped.

“What?” she asked, befuddled by the remark.

“Don’t listen to him,” the other man advised. “The money won’t be an issue. But if we could request some help bringing our equipment in, that’d be fantastic. The sooner it’s all set up, the sooner we can go on.”

“Fine” was her only response and she promptly turned and began to march away from the two men.

When she was only a mere ten steps away, the one man turned to the other and cackled, “Bit of tight ass that one is, don’t you think, brother?”

“I heard that!” she snarled.

“I said it loud enough so you could, love!”

Back in the gymnasium, Carl was looking down at his feet in anxiety. Collecting some nerve, he began to ask Spore, “So, um, I know you got this assignment and all, but maybe after you snap a few more pictures and the band starts playing, I was thinking…”

Silence for a few seconds as he continued to gather his courage.


“Oh,” she replied, slightly taken aback, “um…I mean, I’d like to. I really would. But I really need to be taking more pictures. I want to make a good impression, ya know?”

“Yeah, word. Word,” he awkwardly replied, hands now in his pockets. The nodding recommenced.

There was a pause for a moment.


STOP! he screamed in his mind.



“Cool, cool, cool.”


“But hey,” she said, “it was really nice meeting you. I’ll see you around, alright?”

“Yep, yep!” he agreed, forcing a big, toothy smile.

Sweet Jesus, did you have stroke at some point?

“See ya around!” he exclaimed with a quick wave of his right hand.

God, I hope I don’t see her around.


Oh, Carl, Carl, Carl. We’ve all been there, though (well, all us guys, anyway). Cute blonde girl with a booty? How can any man resist? Although, let’s not forget the immortal words of Bell Biv Devoe: Never trust a big butt and a smile. But who knows? It may just work out for the best.

And also, look who’s back! If you were confused at Giovanni’s comment at the end of Wood You Be Mine? (“There are other worlds than these.”), now you have an idea. How did they get here? Well, that I’m not quite ready to reveal, but you will see them interact with Carl next week. And hey, they’re always fun, right? See you then (and hopefully on Facebook or Twitter as well) for Act 1, Part 3 of Empowered!

Empowered: Act 1, Part 1

Empowered: Act 1, Part 1

Here we are! The start of my new story, Empowered! I’ve been mentioning it for the past month or two, and now I’m incredibly excited that I can share it with you all today. If you enjoyed the humor and style of Wood You Be Mine?, then Empowered, the story of a world where having superpowers is the norm, will be right up your alley.

It’s going to be a fun next few months, so get your ass ready!

Decibel. Octane. Wavelength. Hourglass. Paradox. Not a random collection of words, instead these are the names of the people of this world. A world with a similar past and present as ours, except for one key difference: Everyone here is born with a superpower.

You’ll meet Spore. You’ll meet Wing. You’ll meet Elcsum and Iris and Mesmer and Insight.

And you’ll also meet Carl.

Carl doesn’t have any superpowers.

Carl’s a mutant.


“I don’t want to go to the fucking dance, alright, El?” Carl screamed in to the phone. “It’s a dumbass dance for a bunch of kids to grind up on each other to shitty music from ten years ago!”

“I don’t know how you can say that out loud and not think it’ll be an awesome time,” the voice on the other end of the line answered back. “What are you afraid of? You have absolutely nothing to lose. Come on. Get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Carl responded, “Just go yourself. I’m not gonna have a good time. I won’t ask any girls to dance, and they won’t ask me. So what’s the point? I can stay at home and have the exact same experience, except I won’t have to put pants on.”

“You’re not wearing pants right now?” El asked after a momentary pause.

“Go without me.”

“I’m coming to get you. You need to come out of your shell. Senior year starts in two days. It’s our year. Let’s start it off right.”


El chuckled, “You’re cute when you think you have a choice.”

Closing his eyes and throwing his head back in defeat, Carl replied, “You’re comin’ no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Now for the love of God, put on some pants and meet me outside in ten minutes.”

“Fine. Alright. See you in ten.”

“See ya soon, bud.”


Doing as El requested, Carl started getting dressed. He dug through the pile of clothes on the floor of his closet; shirts and pants and socks and boxers flying in every corner of the room until he finally found the pair of jeans he was looking for. Bringing them up to his face, he let out a sniff to see if they were safe to go out in.

Breathing in, he hesitated for a moment as the scent lingered in his nose.

“Good enough,” he said to himself as he apathetically put them on. Now moving over to his dresser, he opened the top drawer and grabbed the first button-down shirt he could find. It was crimson red and about three years old, but it still fit him well enough. A little tight, perhaps, since he got it before he started working out, but still wearable. After fastening the buttons on the shirt except for the top two and rolling up his sleeves, he trudged down the stairs, the image of how the night was sure to go running through his head.

He imagined standing next to El as his friend charmingly made conversation with girls and guys alike while he stood there like some leech who’d shrivel up and die if detached from his side. And that was the best case scenario.

“Ma!” he yelled while crouched down in the hallway closet looking for his sneakers, “I’m going to the dance! El’s gonna be here in a few minutes to pick me up!”

“Okay, baby angel, have a good time! And call me when you get there!”

Carl closed his eyes and shook his head. He was 17. He didn’t need the nickname ‘baby angel’ anymore, and he definitely didn’t need to call her when he got to the dance.

“Ma!” he yelled again, “Why do you need me to call you? The dance is at the school, where I’ve been going every day for the past three years without callin’ you!”

“I just worry, honey! Have a good time playing with your friends!”

“We’re not ‘playing,’ ” he muttered to himself.

“What was that, young man?” his mom rejoined, her tone less ‘sweet’ motherly and more ‘mother’ motherly.

“Nothing, ma’am,” he sheepishly replied back. Carl often wondered if his mom’s, known as ‘Insight’ to everyone else, real power was super-hearing. In actuality, she had the power of empathy, which Carl knew all too well. She could sense your thoughts and feelings as if they were her own, making her overly emotional and sensitive to everyone around her. Couple that with a mother’s natural inclination to be protective of her child, and you could only imagine the kind of overbearing anxiety she had towards him and his siblings.

And although deep down he knew that it’s better to have a mother who worries too much as opposed to one who doesn’t worry at all, Carl still sometimes toyed with the idea of slipping a Xanax in her morning coffee.

Finally finding his sneakers, Carl wedged his feet in (he never bothered to untie them), dug his finger in to the back of each to bring up the flap that was now crammed between his heel and the shoe, and stood up to leave. As he grabbed the cold metal doorknob, he let out a quiet sigh and muttered to himself, “Here we go.”

He was already regretting this.


Carl stood outside, hands in his pockets, gazing at the night sky. He attempted to whistle, but all he was able to produce was a wet sputtering noise as spittle came flying out of his lips.

After a few minutes of waiting, Carl finally heard that familiar *swish* sound followed by a loud *thunk*.

This continued about five or six times until El ultimately landed right in front of him. As he did, he whipped his shaggy blonde hair to the side and out of the way of his brilliant blue eyes.

El, short for Elcsum, had the power of super-strength. Every muscle in his body was a hundred times stronger than normal, and, as such, his legs were powerful enough that he could leap to fantastic heights.

“Hey there, little buddy!” El said with a big grin on his face. “Ready to go?”

Carl hated ‘little buddy’ almost as much as he did ‘baby angel.’

“Does it matter?”

“Nope!” El replied as he grabbed Carl and they shot off in to the air. When El said he was coming to pick you up, he meant it literally.


Carl really wished his sister hadn’t borrowed the car.

“This is always degrading.”

“Oh, stop being a baby. We’re going to have fun tonight!”


Carl, knowing he really was sounding like a baby, resolved to be positive about the situation. El was right; he was being a downer. Acting like that will only guarantee having a crappy time.


“Fine, I’ll be nice and happy for the rest of the night. I promise. Here: Big smile for ya!”

Carl then opened both his mouth and eyes wide to give El a creepy, clown-like smile.

El winced and remarked, “I hate it when you make that face.”

“What face?” Carl asked, his smile even wider, his bright white teeth glistening in the moonlight.

“I have absolutely no issues dropping you.”


“You’re just uncomfortable because of all our sexual tension. But seriously, I’m still not sure why you wanted me to go.”


“What? Because you’re my best friend! Why wouldn’t I want you there? And…”

El opened his nostrils wide and sniffed.


“…and what’s that smell?” he asked, once again wincing.

Carl began to think maybe he should’ve put on a different pair of pants.


Changing the subject, Carl asked, “So, umm…who’s all gonna be there?”

“Errrrbody gonna be there! And I’m glad you got dressed up for it,” El replied, mocking his shirt. “Baby Gap have a half-off sale?”

“Psh,” Carl replied, “I love this shirt. Haters gonna hate.”


“Well at least it shows off your new build. Little Carl putting on some muscle over the summer…”


“…I can hear the ladies dripping from all the way up here.”

“Jesus Christ, El…”

“What? Anyway…”


“…we’re here. Look alive, bud!” El said, followed by a pat on the back that was a little too hard, causing Carl to stumble forward.

“Dude, you really, really need to remember to hold back more.”

“Hey, Muscles, sorry! I thought you could handle it.”


“Love you, too. Also, do me a favor and, every instinct you have, do the exact opposite of that.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Fair point. Aight,” El said, “time to get our groove on.”


The inaugural post of Empowered wraps up! How does it compare to Wood You Be Mine? Which intro grabbed you more? Are you excited to see where the story goes? Was Carl too whiny? Was El too inappropriate (or not inappropriate enough?) You know I would love to hear your feedback, be it positive or negative, so let me know you think one Facebook or Twitter. Next week, all of you who’ve been reading along since Wood You Be Mine? will enjoy what happens? Why’s that? You’ll just have to come back next week and see! Hope to see you then!