After my 18th birthday, Mum and Dad kept postponing our visit to the Registrar of Superpowers. There was no superpower to report. But they were the best Mum and Dad in the world. Nothing could harm me with them around. Superpower or not. Or so I thought.
I underestimated the Asshole. My elder brother. Even on his 18th birthday there was nothing we could notice that could be described as a superpower. That night after the birthday party he asked Mom for another slice of cake. When she refused he said it was only for the dog, he didn't like it anyway. It tasted like mud he said. It was the way he said it that made all the difference.
He got his slice of cake. Dad rubbed it all over his face.
By the end of that month they registered his superpower for provocation. He went on to call himself The Agent Provocateur. I called him The Asshole.
The Asshole soon built a reputation for starting fights in class, for making teachers uncomfortable and for keeping people on their toes when around him. Nothing he did could count as a "cognizable offence" and so he stayed clear of the law.
There were very few people who were determined not to give The Asshole any privileges. One of them was the most amiable, kind-hearted souls one could imagine. He was our bus conductor, Mikey.
Mikey was a hit among the kids, he listened carefully to what we had to say. Even if that meant holding the bus for a few seconds to finish a conversation. And he remembered everything we said. Everything. You see, Mikey's superpower was his memory. We could get back from vacation and he would pick up the conversation right where we left off. And so it was till the Agent Provocateur came into being.
When The Asshole got on the bus, people spoke softly. They were careful about what they said, afraid they might invite some snarky comment to make them look stupid. It was not that he had the superpower that riled us, it was the fact that he wanted to use it all the time. That was why Mikey who remembered everything, started to "forget" The Asshole's name, their last conversation and even our stop.
The Asshole could get at everyone and made sure he did. Mikey was the Asshole's most difficult project. Mikey, though he kept the Asshole in his place, was still the most good-natured man around. There was simply no anger in him that the Asshole could provoke. Mikey was so self-deprecating that the Asshole just had no hold over him. That was before the weekend that poor Mikey's wife died. Now the Asshole had something to torment Mikey with.
All it took was a look and a smile. Mikey stuck a ball-point pen so deep into The Asshole's left eye that it was premanently useless. Mikey is safe for now. He is in jail where luckily the Asshole can't get to him.
On the bright side, the Asshole learned to curb his enthusiasm from then on. And now it wasn't just me who called him the Asshole.
Being The Asshole's brother was no easy task. Every single day I'd charge at him for some idiotic, cheap remark he'd make or something merely implied. Mum was certain that I was the troublemaker. Every single evening he'd work me up till I was seething with rage and each time I lost control it put a little distance between me and my parents. They knew who I was dealing with but they'd softened up on him because of his one blind eye. For two whole years, at least twice each day the Asshole was able to get me into trouble.
That was till my 18th birthday. From then on, I have been conducting myself almost perfectly. I am now the Asshole's favorite target. No matter how hard he tries to provoke me, I now find it in myself to turn my mind towards better things. It's not that I don't feel the rage, I do. I am seething as I write this, but I can hide my feelings well from others. My head however feels like it is about to explode.
The Registrar's office put me under observation, keeping The Asshole and me locked in the same room for 3 months and confirmed it. I have the superpower of tolerance. FML.