A Trip to the Real World
Mark Stokes

     It was a Friday night and we were all getting spring fever. We weren’t your typical middle schoolers on the weekend. We had to be creative. You see, we were different. We’ve always been different. I, for one, have been wheelchair-bound ever since I was born. Joey had a cleft palette, Billy had no arms, Matthew was blind, and Reggie was an albino. We were your regular band of mutant superheroes - brave but misunderstood. We didn’t ask for any sympathy, though. We were used to our handicaps. They were what brought us together.
This particular Friday night, we decided to do something crazy - something we would never do alone, but since we had each other, we could. Our destination: Wal-Mart. Usually, we’d go over to Joey’s house and hang out. Those of us that could play video games would take turns doing that while the rest of us hung out with Matthew. That Friday, Billy pushed his way into the screen door forcefully.

“I hate my dad!” he shouted as he bolted into the room, angrily sniffling.
With anybody else, this would bother us, but not with Billy. To be honest, we didn’t blame him. His father was a lazy drunk and we knew that we would’ve hated him too, had we been in his situation.
“Take it out on the Sentinels, Wolvie. I’m on Level 4 and I need back-up!” Reggie shouted over his shoulder as his fingers tapped nervously on the game controller. We named each other after comic book characters. X-Men was our favorite. We could relate to them. Other kids liked them because they were cool and muscular, but we had a special bond with them. We knew what it was like to be hated because of some mutation that we never requested.
“I’m tired of games, Reggie. I want life! I’m tired of staying cooped up here in the Danger Room while the rest of the world is out there. I’m tired of hiding the fact that I’m different!”

We all stood there nervously. Why couldn’t he just take off his shoes and play the video game with his feet as usual? We were safe here. We had each other.
“I’m going to Wal-Mart. Follow me if you want. It makes no difference.”
“Billy, wait!” Matthew pleaded, facing the sound of his voice, “You can’t go out there alone. You’re a mutant. They won’t accept you. Let me go with you. You might need some help if something goes down.”
“Cyclops is right,” I spoke up, exhibiting my best Professor X wisdom, “If Wolverine goes, we all go. We can’t let him risk being hurt by the normals.”
With that, we rose simultaneously and marched out the door with our chests puffed out. As the guys piled into Joey’s golf cart, Reggie handed me the home-made ski rope and we were off.
As we approached the foreboding blue-and-white Super Wal-Mart sign, our chests became less puffed. We were all having second thoughts, but it was too late for any of us to turn back now.
“Welcome to the real world, boys,” Billy whispered, eyes dancing wildly.
As we slowly crossed the menacing threshold of the automaticdoors, we began to walk closer to one another. Billy turned to me, smirking.

“Time for an upgrade, Professor.”
When he stepped aside, I saw a whole row of electronic buggies. I welcomed the change from my squeaky, old manual wheelchair and, with Reggie and Joey’s help, was soon cruising with style.
“Alright, boys. We can cover more ground if we split up. Joey, you take the grocery aisles; Matthew, you take clothes; Reggie, you go to electronics; Josh, you go for the kitchen appliances. I’ll check out the sporting goods.”
“What am I supposed to do with kitchen appliances?” I pleaded.
“If we don’t comb out, we’ll never find any shoplifters or anything. You do want to fight crime, don’t you?”
“I guess so. I just think the security cameras are doing a good enough job stopping shoplifters, that’s all.”
“What if X-Force thought the X-Men were doing a good enough job during the X-cutioner’s Song saga? Huh? Cable would be dead for one thing, then who would change the future of all mankind? Nobody, that’s who! Now watch that tupperware with pride, soldier!”

I had to hand it to him, Billy knew how to give a good pep talk. It wasn’t just for anybody that I’d stroll down the toaster aisle. As I zipped along, shoppers heard the electric whir and stared intently toward me. I wanted to run into the ironing boards and start slobbering on myself to give them what they wanted, but I refrained.
After about three rounds, I began getting bored. All of this stuff was much too bulky for anybody to carry away. I decided that Matthew would need more help watching the clothes, since he couldn’t really watch them at all. Billy tried to convince him that if he tried really hard, he’d have super-heightened senses like Daredevil, but it was no use. He just recklessly fumbled around in constant darkness, figuring that someone would tell him if he were ever in any real danger.
As I wheeled around to the women’s section, I heard Matthew’s voice pleading, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see it there. I’ll clean it up, honest. Just tell me where to put it.”
As I turned the corner, I saw Matthew in the middle of the lingerie department amongst a battlefield of toppled bra stands and nightgowns.“Please don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t help it. I turned the corner too sharply,” he pleaded again.
“Matthew, what are you doing? There’s nobody here,” I announced, “You’re talking to a mannequin. C’mon, let’s get out of here before we have to clean all of this up.”

“I heard somebody trying to steal something. I almost had ‘im, Josh, but he hid his scent from me.”
“It’s alright, Matt. You did good. Let’s go help Joey.”
I guided Matt onto my buggy and we sped off, leaving the chaotic mess for some perverted stock boy to sort through. Enduring more bewildered stares, we glided into the food section. I slowed down by the bakery so Matthew could smell the fresh bread, honing his extra-perceptive sense of smell. Passing the birthday cakes, we saw Joey in the distance.
“Where’s da tips?!?” he shouted angrily to an attendant.
“I told you, son,” the exasperated old lady replied, “You don’t get tips unless you take groceries out to the cars... And to do that you’ve gotta work here!”“I don’t want yo tupid noney I jut want some tips! You know, like tee-tos!”
“Tito’s? He doesn’t work here anymore. Got fired for sleeping in the back room. His tip for you would be to stay awake if you want to keep your job.”
I don’t cawe about him. I’m hungwy and I need tumtin to eat! Ip you ain’t got any tips, you got any teese ow anyteen nite dat?”

“Tees? Oh, those are in Sporting Goods with the rest of the golf supplies. That’s on the other side of the store.”
I couldn’t watch anymore. The poor woman had been through enough.
“Hey Joey, I found those golf tees you were looking for. Come pick out the color you want,” I shouted as I rolled up.
Confused, Joey hopped on the back and we wheeled off, away from the crowd of “normals” that had gathered around him. As we cruised toward electronics section, we heard what we thought was a television preacher shouting about repentance and condemnation.

“If we are to remain God’s people, we must re-conquer the black man and force him into submission! God wants to reclaim the lives of his chosen people, but simply cannot with the black devils running rampant on our streets, raping our women and looting our houses!”
Pushing our way through the gathered crowd, we came up to an overweight, balding white man screaming passionately into a karaoke machine.
“God has given them countless chances for repentance throughout the Good Book, but they chose to forsake Him, forever staining their descendants with the dark Mark of Cain. Hear me, all those who love the Lord! Do not do business with these people! Do not show kindness to them! The black man has chosen the path of darkness and shall forever be condemned, he and his companions! Flee, my friends, flee from them and you will be saved!”
At this moment, we saw Reggie pushing his way away from the crowd with a CD clenched tightly in his hand. The man suddenly shrieked.
“You! You, son, come here!”
Reggie froze, trying to focus on not wetting his pants. Not giving the boy time to react, the man rushed toward him with microphone in hand. As he grabbed Reggie’s shoulders tightly, the boy’s pink eyes looked up in panic.
“It’s him! He’s finally come! The conqueror of all sins!”
What?!? We all looked at one another in confusion as he continued.
Gaze upon his earthly vessel! Look upon his mortal flesh, washed white as snow! He’s conquered sin and darkness once more! Fall down, infidels! The Son of the Most High has returned! Fall down and worship the Holy Messiah!”
Reggie scanned the crowd sheepishly as people began to point to him and snicker. Realizing that this was getting him nowhere, he stomped sharply on the prophet’s left foot and rushed for our loaded-down get-away car. As we sped away from the laughing crowd, we quickly dodged three men in white who were briskly walking to electronics.
“I think it’s time to go,” I decided.

“No complaint here,” added Matthew.
“Let did outta heo,” agreed Joey.
Matthew sat silently, then spoke up, “Do you really think I could be Jesus?”
Not wanting to ruin Matthew’s day, we remained silent and I hurriedly aimed for the Sporting Goods section. As we passed the golf clubs, we overheard a middle-aged businessman complaining about his handicap. I wanted to grab him by his shirt collar and say, “What do you know about handicaps, huh? When you leave that green, at least you can walk! Stop bellyaching and do something worthwhile!” lnstead, I joked with Joey about finding those “tees” he needed.

We spotted Billy in front of the glass gun case.
“That’s the one I want, sir,” he pointed with his head.
The man hesitated.
“Excuse me, sir. Did you hear me? I want that one.”
“I can’t sell that to you, son. I’m sorry.”
“Why? Because I have no arms? Is that why?!”
“Well, I...”
“No, I don’t want to hear it! That’s so messed up! I don’t tell you that you can’t wear those goofy, thick glasses because you’re an old fart, do I? Just give me the gun!”
“I told you, son, I can’t.”
“Billy, calm down. You can use mine,” Matthew said as we drove up.
“I don’t want yours! I want that one and he’s going to sell it to me!”
“Son, I...”
Just then, Billy bent down and touched his toes with his nose. When he came up, he was brandishing a small dagger between his teeth that he had hidden in his sock “You’ll gid ne da gun now, old nan!” he mumbled as he waved his head around in a menacing manner.
“Billy, what are you doing?!” I shouted.
“I’n tired od deing diff’rent! I just want da gun!”
“You don’t understand, young man,” the old man pleaded, “It’s not because you’re different. I can’t sell it to anyone under eighteen without their parents’ consent.”

“Oh,” Billy said, blushing as he dropped the dagger on the glass counter, “Well, uh... thanks for your time.”
He quickly picked the dagger up into his teeth and returned it to his sock. As he hopped on the back of the cart, he gave an apologetic half-grin and waved his left nub.
“I believe we’ve had enough real world for tonight,” he said shakily.
“You nean for a nifetine!” Joey chimed in.
As we whirred past the check-out lines, I noticed the endless droves of expressionless people and they suddenly looked all alike to me, like a sad group of clones standing single-file with no individual identity whatsoever. I snapped back to reality when the guys lowered me into my rusty wheelchair.
“Hey, let Jesus drive!” Matthew said, rubbing Reggie’s head.
“What?” exclaimed a confused Billy.
“What Mr. Security Patrol here means is that we’ve got a lot of catching up to do in debriefing,” I said with a smirk.
We left that Wal-Mart parking lot as heroes that day. Joey was huddled over the steering wheel with an unnatural sneer across his face. Matthew was leaning against the bow of our vessel, grinning as the wind rushed against sensitive skin. Reggie just sprawled across the front seat with his arm resting on an outstretched leg in the typical cool thinker pose. Billy stood on the back seat, raising his nubs high above the canopy and shouting triumphantly. As for me, I grabbed onto my rope as if my life depended on it and gritted my teeth with courage. We could’ve easily made the cover as comics’ new sensational team. We weren’t normal. Thank God we weren’t normal.