"Have you seen that outfit? The Lasso of Truth couldn’t hold up that top. I’d have to wear the strapless part around my butt."
My sister and I are Halloween shopping. She’s just before retirement age and I’m right behind her, pushing her over the hump. Dolled up in superhero costumes, we’re like a cross between the Golden Girls and the Justice League. It’s enough to curl Captain America’s shield.
"Why don’t you be The Flash?"
"That’s a good idea. Every time I bend over, the elastic in my pants stretches out. Good thing I’m wearing clean underwear."
"No, it’s THE Flash. It’s a title, not a description."
"Oh. What does the Flash do?"
"He runs real fast."
"I would too if everybody saw my altogether every time I bent over. But I can move pretty quick after one of those fiber drinks. Who are you going to be?"
"How about Grammar Girl?"
"Okay, but watch out for your run-ons. And that colon can be tricky."
"Tell me about it. I’ve had one of those fiber drinks, too."
"Grammar Girl isn’t very exciting, is she?"
"Well, she’s no Aqua Man, but she can fix up a comma splice like nobody’s business."
"What does she wear?"
"A pencil skirt and a ponytail."
"That leaves me out. The last time I wore a pencil skirt, the Fashion Police presented me with an honorary eraser."
"What about the Green Lantern?"
"He’s a wimp. I remember him when he was just a candlestick and a box of matches."
I pause and consider. We could go as ourselves. Between us we’ve raised six children, seen three girls go through the pouty stage, and had a hand in a murder of boys learning to drive. We’ve baked cupcakes, chased homework, and collapsed in relief at six high school graduations. Sounds like superhero stuff to me.
I’m swept up in emotion when suddenly Sis pounces on the perfect outfit.
"Wolverine! It’s just the thing!"
"Why is that?"
"You don’t have to shave your legs, and the nails are to die for!"