Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Due to the strange fact that the plethora of alcohol I received at Christmas must have all had holes in the bottles or were somehow faulty as they were now empty I found myself once more perusing the alcohol aisle at the local supermarket to replenish the stocks for the New Year celebrations.
Next to me were two pretty lady things, clearly dressed for a night at the local discotheque and were looking for something to get “Tanked up” prior to their evening of dancing.

Being a bit of a nosey fucker I picked up a bit of their conversation and soon gathered that the drink they required was on the top shelf they couldn’t reach it.
“I can do this” I thought. “I can help these poor damsels in distress”. I’m tall, I can reach, and I’ll look cool as fuck, bearing in mind the last time i could say I was cool as fuck was when I had to de-ice the car for the wife in my pyjamas on Christmas eve morning, so cold was it outside my nipples all but tore through my ill fitting bed top to shatter off the ice and my shivering man part retracted and stacked up to resemble one of Makkapakka’s antennae.
“Can I get that for you?” I asked, my voice the velvety tone of a confident hulking man hero.
“Yes please can we get two” Delight at this unexpected knight in Burtons armour.
“No problem” I said “One of the advantages of being tall”
Unfortunately for me I mistook “Being tall” for being a fucking giraffe on stilts. Not only was the drink on the top shelf it was also right at the back. I stretched, reaching in a panic now that I was going to look like a tosser. It was too late, tosser would be a polite description and another problem was now more pressing.
I’d left the house wearing my normally already quite snug leather jacket, with the Christmas festivities it now probably looked like someone had hurled a massive turkey at a sheet of warmed and melting bin liners. As I stretched further into the shelf my leather jacket had somehow managed to rise up and traverse over my impressive belly, it didn’t stop until it nestled itself under my moobs, displaying my apparent complete festive pregnancy for all the shop to see.
Like a really shit version of that plastic twat from Fantastic four, (this was more fatastic), I somehow managed to extend myself and retrieved two of the bottles. Victory! I retracted back to normal height like a lard slinky being let go from the top of the stairs.
Purple faced and clenching a bottle in each hand I dismounted the fixture. Unable to pull my jacket down I stood arms stretched out offering the bottles. I probably made things worse by acting like there was nothing wrong or weird in the fact that a purple faced panting stranger wearing a tiny leather crop top with the physique of an inflated weeble was handing them drink.
“No problem” I said, even though they hadn’t thanked me, too stunned even to speak, they clearly didn’t know where to look and for some reason chose my shimmering marshmallow kite, my belly button staring them out like Cyclops, it even give them a cheeky wink as I coughed for their attention to take the bottles.
I strolled away quickly, but cooly, pulling down my leather jacket, it squeaked on its journey back down to waste line.
Not all heroes wear capes, I thought as I strutted out of sight, they wear tight leather belly tops.

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