This is an outtake I wrote in honor of my yearly pilgrimage to the
San Diego Comic Con which I’ve been attending since I was twelve. The
chapter’s timing is before chapter 22 in Animate Me. Enjoy!
Animate Me / Special San Diego Comic Con-Outtake / Where’s Wonder Woman?
“I give you my hand and welcome you into my dream.” ~Wonder Woman
When I step into her office, Brooke’s completely focused on her computer, but she looks up and smiles at me as I approach.
“What’re you doing?” I ask as I set her coffee down on her desk.
“Deciding
on which hotel I want to stay at for Comic Con. We have a block of
rooms at the Marriott and the Hilton, but I prefer the Omni. Are you
going?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her. “Comic nirvana.”
“You
mean geek nirvana. Every year it gets more crowded with more
entertainment stuff and less comic books and I swear I’m not going back,
but then I think of what I will miss and I cave in. Besides I’m on the
Sketch Republic panel this year talking about the new season.”
"Are you supposed to go with Arnauld?” I ask with trepidation.
“Ha!”
she blurts out. “No, Arnauld refuses to go. Of course, he’s supposed
to, but he always figures out a way to wiggle out of it. This year it’s a
family reunion or something.”
She’s not going with him to his family reunion? That’s a good sign.
“A family reunion, huh? That must be a meeting of the fur. I bet all the women have uni-brows and moustaches.”
“Nathan!” She shakes her finger at me but she’s grinning.
“I
know, but then I can go with you to Comic Con! We can share a room, and
that will save the company money.” I try to wiggle my eyebrows at her
like Groucho Marx. “I always have the company’s bottom line in mind, you
know.”
She raises her eyebrows. “That’s very thoughtful of you”
she says. “But I know very well that we don’t pay for the animators to
go anyway, so you’re not saving squat for Sketch Republic.”
“All right, you’re onto me. But just think how useful I’d be. I could be your body guard.”
“Hmmmm.”
“By the way, if you are planning on dressing up, may I suggest Cat Woman?”
“No,
I’m not dressing up, as much as you’d love to see me parading around in
that skintight bodysuit with a whip. I dressed up at Comic Con once,
and that was enough for me.”
“Me too!” I say. “Who did you go as?”
“Well,
all my friends were always telling me that I looked like Wonder Woman
from the Justice League, so it was a no-brainer. My friend, I roomed
with, was a Teen Titan freak and went as Raven. We looked a bit out of
place with our group who were all anime and manga people, but I think we
looked hot. And I must say, I really liked wearing that red corset with
the gold stripes. It made my boobs look great.”
“Your boobs always look great,” I say smiling.
“Well,
that may explain why every teenage boy wanted to take a picture with
me. That was the down side. I couldn’t get down one aisle without being
ogled over and over. I’ll never do that again.”
“Now that you
mention it, please don’t wear the Catwoman costume at the Con.” I shake
my head sternly. But then a new idea occurs to me. “Do you still have
that Wonder Woman costume? Maybe you could model it for me when I come
over Thursday?”
“So you’re a Wonder Woman fan too? You are so provocative today, Mr. Evans,” she teases.
And you seem to like me being provocative, Brooke….win!
I continue boldly. “I tried to pick up a Wonder Woman at Comic Con once.”
“You did? Was she prettier than me?” she teases.
“Well, she was really pretty. But no one is prettier than you, Brooke.”
She
gives me a side glance, and smiles at my flattery. “Okay, I’ll put on
the costume after dinner and you can tell me for sure.”
“Better yet, why don’t you answer the door in it? I’ll be putty in your hands.”
“I bet you will. And what costume will you wear?” She bites her lower lip anticipating my answer.
"Whatever you want me to wear.”
Please, please, please…nothing involving tights and little man panties.
“How about Indiana Jones? I always thought he was hot. Don’t shave that day--I want the whole look. I want sweaty and manly.”
Manly…as in macho?
That’s a tall order for me. I can certainly do sweaty, but the rest may
be a challenge. I panic a bit wondering how I will find a safari hat by
Thursday, and how I can successfully fulfill her fantasy. I decide to
stop at the DVD store on the way home so I can pick up Raiders of the
Lost Ark and have time to study Harrison Ford’s manly moves.
When
Brooke’s blackberry goes off, I regretfully remember that I’ve got a
ton of work to do back at my animation table, so I push up from my
chair.
“Okay, I’ve got to get back, but tonight I’ll be
shopping. Too bad there isn’t a one-stop place, Manly-Men R Us or
something.”
“So you’re really going to fulfill my Indiana Jones fantasy?” she says
with cute pouty lips, twisting one of her long locks around her finger.
“Anything for you, Wonder Woman...”
* * * *
The
next night as I work on my comic book my mind wanders to the image of
Brooke dressed as a sexy super hero and I am reminded of the one and
only year I wore a costume at Comic Con.
It was Joel’s stupid
idea in the first place. He wanted us to be a team of Storm Troopers
from Star Wars, which is an intriguing idea until you find out that it
is an eight hundred dollar-per person idea. I’m at his place snapping on
each part of his intricate fiberglass costume, when he drops the price
bomb on me. I’m not sure what I expected. I have to admit, each Storm
Trooper uniform is elaborately and realistically crafted for a small
group of freaks who want authentic--not one of those cheesy nylon
Halloween costumes that take suspended belief to a whole new level.
Still,
when it comes to spending money on a costume I don’t even want to wear,
the idea of wiping out my comic book budget for Comic Con is never
going to fly. I have to let Joel know that it’s time to stop smoking
crack.
“What the hell? You paid $800.00 for this? I would expect my own rocket thruster included for that much,” I insist.
“You
get what you pay for, dude. Andy bought a sub par Tomb Raider costume
last year and it fell apart before he even made it to the panel. All of
his fantasies of Angeline Jolie spotting him in the crowd, pulling him
backstage, and straddling him, evaporated in a pile of cheap fabric.”
“Well,
if you intent is to pick up girls, perhaps you should pick something
without a full face mask.” I suggest. “It’s not like you’re Quasimodo or
anything, and have a real reason to hide.”
“Yeah,” agrees Joel. “That’s the one issue with this idea. It isn’t a chick magnet, but I think my charisma will shine through.”
I shake my head, even though I have to admit that Joel has never had a hard time attracting the ladies.
“Well,
if you aren’t going to be part of my squad, what will you be?” He asks.
“You have to have a costume on if you’re going to hang with us. How
about Spiderman? Chicks love him. He’s one of those emo guys that the
ladies always have a soft spot for.”
“No tights man…if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times…no tights!”
And
that is how I ended up being Clark Kent. I found a Superman T-shirt in
the boys section of K-Mart that fit very snuggly to wear under my white
shirt that appeared pulled open, the rest was rather dull but easy to
pull together: the usual dress slacks and dangling tie. I didn’t even
have to find new glasses. My big black frames and brushing back my
floppy hair did the trick. Unfortunately, the guys were not impressed,
and made me walk five steps behind them. But at least they didn’t
abandon me all together.
* * * *
I’d
always felt that the best part of Comic Con was that there never seemed
to be judgment about your particular obsession…all were welcome and
encouraged. If you can deal with the crowds, it’s the freest place on
the planet for a geek like me. Whenever I’ve gone, I’ve been surrounded
by my people, all one-hundred thousand of them. It’s always made me feel
great. I got more and more excited as our pilgrimage to Comic Con grew
closer.
Once we arrived and entered the great hall, I also
learned that there is an unspoken bond between all the costumed people.
Nods of appreciation, and high fives abound among us as if we were a
daring band of brothers in this crazy fan world. Joel worked it adeptly,
having his picture taken with every Princess Leia we encountered. He
even groped a feel from the one in the little bronze bikini with the big
chain collar around her neck. He had her phone number and several
others before noon.
I, on the other hand, found that dressing
like Clark Kent gave me no more mojo than my usual shy self. I
considered that perhaps Spiderman would’ve been a better choice if I
could’ve overcome my fear of tights that put my junk on prominent
display.
We stopped at Phantom Press to check out their
special graphic novel releases for the show. I’d already spent my last
paycheck, and yet was still so excited by everything I was seeing that I
was considering throwing my carefully calculated show budget into the
wind. I was fondling the latest Neil Gaiman book, Sandman: The Dream
Hunters, when I hear a soft voice next to me.
“Hey Clark, mind if I reach under you to get myself a copy too?”
Reach under me? I
turn and look bewildered only to see the prettiest girl ever smiling at
me. Her skin is the softest ivory, and her stunning face is framed with
a mane of silky dark hair. “Wonder Woman?” I gasp, sounding like a
complete idiot.
“Actually my friends call me
B but you can call me Wonder Woman if that floats your boat.”
“What
did you want to reach for?” I ask trying not to stare down into her
costume, where her breasts are threatening to escape. I’d give anything
for a costume malfunction with her outfit right about now.
“Neil’s book, Clark? What’d you think I meant?”
“Oh, so-so-rry,” I stutter, looking down.
“Gosh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Don’t be sorry. I guess I’m just too excited today. There’s so much great stuff here!”
I give her a nervous smile. “Yeah, there sure is.”
She
looks down at the Superman S on my shirt. “Hey, you’re a DC fan too.
Can I show you something? Maybe you’ll appreciate it like I do.”
She
sets down her bag and pulls out a comic, then slowly opens it. Nestled
inside is an original drawing of Wonder Woman. She slides it over to me
with great reverence. “Look what Adam Hughes did for me,” she says
breathlessly.
“Wow,” I say as I hold it up to inspect it closer. I
look at her, study her features and then look at the drawing again. “He
really captured you. Looks like he was really inspired.”
“You
think so?” she asks. “I just love it. I’m going to get it framed as soon
as I get home. I just love his style and I swear I’ll always treasure
this.”
“He draws the best sexy women,” I agree. “I love Jim Lee and Alex Ross, but Adam’s women can’t be beat.”
“I
agree.” She nods her head as she studies the drawing. But suddenly she
gets a spark in her eye and looks up at me. “Hey, are you calling me
sexy, Clark?”
I can feel myself turning beet red. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful.” I stammer.
Damn, I need to get out of here before I make a bigger ass of myself. I close the cover on her book and push it towards her.
She grabs my arm. “Hey, I know you weren’t being disrespectful. I was just playing with you. You’re so damn cute.”
I
push my glasses up and look over at her. “Well, thanks I guess…” But
before I can continue a group of people surround her and start to pull
her away.
No, don’t take my Wonder Woman away! I panic realizing my time with her is up, and I’ll never see her again.
She
grabs her book and slides it into her bag. Right before she moves on,
she turns back towards me. “Bye Clark. It’s been fun talking to you!”
I consider following them but how would that look? I’m powerless. I wave awkwardly and smile as she disappears into the crowd.
“Look
at you, rico suave!” Joel taunts me as he approaches. “Acting all shy,
and then you pick up the hottest girl at the con. Did you get her
number?”
I shake my head defeated. “They pulled her away. I didn’t have a chance,” I lament.
“Dude, you’ve got to move fast at these things, or you are going to go home empty handed.”
I look up, and Joel waves a bunch of papers at me with names and phone numbers.
“You don’t need to rub it in,” I lament before looking down.
Defeated,
I pick up the Gaiman book to take to the cashier when I notice
something amiss. There is a comic book on the display that doesn’t
belong, and I panic when I realize that B must have grabbed the wrong
book. Sure enough I open the suspicious comic and her Adam Hughes
drawing is still inside.
Oh no, Wonder Woman left her treasure and I have no idea how to get it back to her.
Without
a second thought, I grab the book and shoot into the crowd, the same
direction they seemed to be headed. But it is quickly apparent that they
are nowhere nearby. I’m taller than most and can scan the aisles
stuffed full of bodies but I don’t see her. My mind reels…do I go to
Lost and Found? It seems dicey since this drawing is really special.
It’s akin to turning in a wad of cash. I decide that I’m going to try to
find her even though it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
I
spend the next two hours scanning every row until I’m dizzy. Andy calls
me on my cell phone three times trying to lure me back to the group
with stories of free comics and artist appearances but I’m a man on a
mission.
By the afternoon I am at my wits end and frustrated
because I’ve missed so much of the show. I stumble over to Starbucks,
absolutely sure that a Venti cappuccino is in order. I need a refueling
to continue my quest. I’m halfway through the world’s longest line when
I see a group in costumes moving to the exit with my Wonder Woman right
in the center.
“Hold my place,” I gasp to the short, squat Harry
Potter in line behind me, and I sprint towards the exit. I burst out
the door and see the group getting in the shuttle bus line. “B!” I call
out.
Her entire group turns toward me, but her glowing smile is all I see.
“Hey Clark,” she says as I come to a sudden stop and push my glasses up. “What’s up?”
“Your drawing,” I gasp, holding the book out towards her.
The color leaves her face as she puts her hands over her mouth, horrorstruck.
“Oh, my God. Are you serious?” She reaches into her bag and pulls out the book she thought was hers.
I
flip the book I’ve been holding open so she sees her drawing. “You left
it at Phantom Press. I’ve been trying to find you to get it back to
you,” I explain.
“You’ve been looking for me this whole time?” She shakes her head in disbelief.
I nod, suddenly embarrassed. “I knew how important it was to you.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me…you have no idea,” she says tears forming in her eyes.
The
bus pulls up and everyone starts getting in. She looks over her
shoulder and sees her group near the front. She jams her hand into her
bag and pulls out her phone and flips it open.
“Here, quick, give
me your number. I want to talk to you, but we’re late. Our ride is
waiting for us at the hotel and I’ve got to get back tonight.”
I
type in Clark and input my number quickly before hitting save. I hand it
back to her with wide eyes. “You’ll really call me?” I ask softly.
“Yes,”
she assures me and then gently kisses me on the cheek before running to
catch the bus. As she steps on she turns back and waves at me. “Bye
Clark, thank you!”
I wave back, smiling, and touch my cheek where she kissed me.
I’m never washing that part of my face again.
* * * *
Each
day that followed was a torture I was unprepared for. I couldn’t focus,
and I must have checked my phone a thousand times to make sure the
ringer was up high and the battery was charged. I was so sure Wonder
Woman wouldn’t let me down. But by day five I realize that I was an
idiot to think she felt the same connection to me that I did to her. I’m
just big fucking loser, Clark Kent, after all. She deserves nothing
less than Superman. The funk that followed this realization lingered for
months.
* * * *
All
these years later, I still wonder how my life may have been different
if I’d gotten that call. I’m about to turn off the lights in my studio
when a thought occurs to me that I can’t shake. What if? No…there are
dozens of Wonder Women at every Comic Con…the odds are impossible.
No. Absolutely not….No.
“Brooke?” The embarrassment of my insanity is starting to hit me. “I’m sorry to call so late.”
“Hey, Nathan. Are you okay? You’ve never called me past ten.” She sounds like I woke her up. Her voice is all scratchy and cute.
“I just had to ask you something about Comic Con.”
“You woke me up to ask me about Comic Con?” She laughs. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Remember how you said you went as Wonder Woman? How many years ago was that?”
“Are you serious? You woke me up for this?”
“Please just humor me Brooke.”
“Hmmm, I think about five. I had just started at Nickelodeon.”
I
quickly calculate in my head and my heart starts pounding. “Did you
meet a guy dressed up as Clark Kent that year?” There’s a long silence
as I hold my breath waiting. “Brooke? Did he bring you a drawing you had
left at a vendor’s booth?”
“My drawing? How do you know this? Nathan, how?” Her voice sounds almost afraid, like she’s spooked.
“An Adam Hughes drawing, right?”
There’s another long pause.
“Clark?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “That was me.”
“I can’t believe it,” she whispers.
“Me either.”
“You didn’t purposely give me wrong phone number, did you?” she asks.
“What?”
“The number you put in my phone for was for a dry cleaners on Magnolia.”
“Oh, hell no. Do you know how long I waited for your call?”
“Do you know how many combinations of that number I tried?” she says.
“Really?” I ask, feeling the pain from that memory lift. “You really tried to call me?”
“At
least twenty times and then I got discouraged and gave up…I started
thinking maybe it was subconscious that you’d put the number in wrong.
Perhaps you really didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Oh, I wanted to
talk to you. I was nervous and it all happened so fast. My hands were
literally shaking.” I pause, remembering that rushed moment in front of
the bus. “In retrospect, I’m amazed I even got the area code for
Burbank right.”
I let out a long sigh. “You know, I dreamt about kissing you for months.”
“Just kissing?”
“Well, some other stuff too.”
“I thought you were really cute.”
“So you would have gone out with me?”
“Sure,” she confirms.
“Wow.” I feel a heavy weight in my chest for all that we missed.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.
“I’m kind of sad for that time we’ve lost. I would’ve met you before Arnauld. Maybe you would’ve dated me instead.”
She
sighs and I can hear a melancholy in her tone too. “But we can’t be sad
for what might have been Nathan. Look at us now. We must have been
meant to meet again now. One day we will figure out why.”
“I guess.”
“Hey, I noticed you didn’t shave today. Are you working on your Indiana look?”
“Yes,” I admit, smiling into the phone.
“But maybe now you should dress up as Clark Kent instead,” she says unconvincingly.
I
consider the idea, but then answer her after I realize my truth. “No,
I’m a different man now. I don’t want to be Clark Kent anymore.”
“Okay,” she says happily.
“So have you found your Wonder Woman costume?”
“I tried it on tonight. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I look really hot.”
“I bet you do. You’re making me hot just thinking about it,” I admit, shifting in my seat.
“Good.
You just think about that when you get in bed tonight. And I’ll think
about you and how incredibly lucky we are that we found each other
again. Most people don’t get that second chance you know?”
“You’re right, Brooke.” I sigh. “ So tomorrow at seven?”
“I’ll be ready,” she says happily.
* * * *
It’s
six-fifty nine when I step out of my car. I muss my hair and lift the
hat off the passenger seat and push it on my head. One last look in the
mirror confirms what I realized before I left the house. I make a damn
good Indiana Jones.
As I lock the car I coach myself and try to control my breathing.
Okay, rugged, manly…be cool but take control…you are the man…you are Indiana Jones!
I
look down at my costume. I wadded up my oldest khakis and shirt
overnight so they would look wrinkled and worn. When I got home from
work tonight I took a quick run, then took some dirt from the garden and
rubbed small bits of it on my face and arms, my shirt, pants and hiking
boots. I’m a sweaty mess. But am I manly enough? Only one opinion
counts, and as I pull open her gate her front door open swings open.
In
a flash it all comes back to me, the Wonder Woman of my dreams. And it
may have taken five long years to find her again, but she’s back in my
life, better than ever. She leans against the door jam with a big smile
on her face. My eyes fall to her red boots and move up to her shapely
thighs. Her lush hips swivel towards me as my vision rises to the fabled
red top that makes her waist tiny and her full breasts the very
definition of womanly beauty.
Wow. I’m the luckiest man on earth.
I
walk toward her with a powerful gait and her eyes widen, taking in the
curled whip in my hand and the sheathed knife dangling from my belt. I
fix a hard expression on my face as I approach. I stop only inches away
from her. I gaze down into her eyes and tip the brim of my hat
forward.
“Indiana,”
she says in a low sexy voice. “I always knew some day you'd come
walking back through my door.” She reaches out and runs her fingers
along the edge of my shirt. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for
you.”
I guess all my research has paid off in spades. I can’t
help smiling even though I try hard to twist it into a classic Harrison
Ford smirk. I’ve made her happy and in turn, she’s made me incredibly
happy too.
I set my free hand against her lower back and pull her
closer in a rugged Indiana kinda way. My right thigh pushes between
hers so that her legs spread open further. “Are you going to use your
super hero powers on me, woman?”
“Will I need to?” She asks pressing her chest into mine and biting her lip.
“We
shall see,” I growl as I pull her into my arms. I am overcome with
passion as I finally…finally get to kiss my Wonder Woman.
The End
