Black Friday

Black Friday

Mark A. Davis

289

It was cold, dark, and wet.  A light mist was falling from the sky.  Streetlight glinted off parked cars and wet blacktop.  People shivered and stamped their feet, their breath turning to mist.

"I'm telling you," said Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero, "this is my favorite time of year."

Grandpa was dressed for action in his typical outfit -- an old, gray suit with a silver anarchy symbol stitched over the left breast.  He had a fedora, black gloves, and a rarely-worn black diamond mask.  Beside him stood a young woman with dark skin and bleach-blonde hair in a red spandex outfit, with a deerstalker cap and an double-breasted Ulster overcoat.  On her chest was the astrological symbol for Venus.

"I cannot help but assume that you are not referring to Thanksgiving, Sir," she said, "given that you did not even call your relatives to wish them a joyous holiday, let alone visit them or invite them to your mansion...."

"Darn straight, Cisgender Sleuth," replied Grandpa.  "I'm not allowed to go near the great-granddaughters until they're eighteen."  His sidekick raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, it ain't what you think," he added quickly.  "My two granddaughters, Claire and Angela, ain't having with any of this superhero business.  The last time Elsie visited me, she spent a week in fairyland on some fool quest and I still haven't heard the end of it from her mother.  That ain't happening again!  Claire and Angela laid down the law -- no adventures with Grandpa Anarchy until they're officially adults.

"So no, I'm not talking about Thanksgiving!  I mean Black Friday!  Why do you think we're lined up outside this box store at 4:45 AM in the morning?"

The Cisgender Sleuth stared at the long line of people in front of them.  "Well, Sir," she said, "A simple application of Occam's Razor would suggest the most obvious reason -- that there is something which you wish to purchase during this Black Friday sale...."

"Nah, don't be daft," said Grandpa.  "What could I possibly need that I don't already have?"

The sidekick shrugged.  "Given your penchant for strawberry pancakes, perhaps you desire an automated strawberry pancake-making machine?"

Grandpa grinned.  "Oooh, good guess!  That would be pretty sweet -- but I already got this magical pin that produces strawberry pancakes whenever I rub it.  See?"

Grandpa Anarchy rubbed a lapel pin in the shape of a plate of strawberry pancakes.  An actual plate of pancakes appeared in his other hand.  They were steaming in the cold air, and smelled delicious.  He held them up for inspection, then handed the plate to a startled woman behind him.

"Free pancakes," he said.  "Enjoy!"

The Cisgender Sleuth stroked her chin.  "I must confess, our reason for being here escapes me.  Given the nature of this establishment, may I assume you require something to spruce up the Anarchy Cave?"

"What?  No!" exclaimed Grandpa.  "My Anarchy Cave has everything you could possibly want and a lot more besides -- I mean, how many crime caves have a self-aware computer, a flying saucer, and a collection of possessed weapons stored in a safety vault?  And let's not forget the exo-skeleton or the rocket bike!"

The Cisgender Sleuth sighed.  "No, I have not forgotten those things," she said.  "Most of which do not work.  Very well then:  If I must guess, then it would be that you are purchasing Christmas gifts for all of your enemies."

"Why would I do that?" asked Grandpa.

"I really do not know," the Sleuth replied.  "It was merely a guess.  But Black Friday is traditionally the day one gets the jump on Christmas shopping, and we are at a place called the Villain's Lair Emporium...."

Grandpa Anarchy stared up at the red neon sign.  "You got that right!" he replied.  "Finest purveyor of villainous lair accessories on the east coast!  In business over fifteen years now!  Anything you want, they got -- death rays, pit traps, wave motion guns, thrones for your throne room, computer systems for your control room, minion uniforms and storm trooper gear, giant magnet kits, Faraday cages, atomic robots, Jacob's ladders, security bots, artificial gravity plates, lava river kits, ventilation systems -- you don't want to build a volcano lair without a good ventilation system, one large enough for the heroes to sneak in!  Then they got your Archimedes claws, Archimedes heat rays, barracks for the minions, shark pool kits, everything you need to raise mutant animal minions -- and what they don't have, they can special order!  Pretty amazing place, really."

"A one-stop shopping center... for villains," said the sidekick.

"That's right," Grandpa agreed.  "And with fifty percent off between 5:00 AM and 9:00 AM, no villain can resist!"

By this point, the Cisgender Sleuth had taken note of how many of the other people in the long line were eyeing them surrepetitiously -- and how many of these had outfits involving leather, spikes, and helmets with horns or giant all-seeing eyes.

"I note that you are dressed for battle," said the Cisgender Sleuth.  "Perhaps you wish to destroy this purveyor of villanous goods?"

"What?  Smash a business?  On Black Friday of all days?" said Grandpa.  "That don't sound very heroic!"

"I must confess," said the Cisgender Sleuth, "I had no idea that such an establishment existed in our own city...."

"Well," Grandpa said, "we were going to put it in Manhattan, but land in Frosthaven NJ is much cheaper."

The Sleuth blinked.  "You... own this establishment?" she asked.

"Part owner, part owner," Grandpa replied.  "I ain't involved in any day-to-day decisions -- I don't run it.  But about seventeen years ago my financial adviser/lawyer Mal started bugging me to invest some of my money so's I don't lose it all, and there was this really clever enemy of mine named Raymond Wallbridge -- well, back in the day he went by the name the Sinister Saffron Salamander, of course -- and he wanted my help going straight...."

"So naturally you helped him establish a business catering to supervillains," the Sleuth interjected.  "Brilliant."

"Hey," said Grandpa, "it's a legitimate business!  Raymond has been clean and non-villainous for sixteen years now!  I mean, he still has a secret lair -- one of the best you've ever seen! -- but it's all for show.  He's gone straight.

"The point is," said Grandpa, "superheroes and Black Friday go together like a peanut butter, pickle and mayonnaise sandwich."

The Sleuth made a face.  "I have multiple issues with that statement, Sir, but setting aside for the moment the advisability of eating such a sandwich....."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it!" Grandpa exclaimed.

"I have no intention of ever trying it, and every intention of knocking it, Sir," replied the Cisgender Sleuth.  "That said , and despite your partial ownership of this store, I still fail to see any particular connection between Black Friday and superheroes."

By this point the front doors had opened and the line was moving.  Within seconds they were inside.  People were rushing to grab whatever particular sale item had caught their fancy.  Grandpa stood in the middle of it all.  He cracked his knuckles.

"Well," he said, "it's like this:  people like to get into brawls on Black Friday."

"And you're hoping one breaks out here?" asked the sidekick.

"Hoping?  No," said Grandpa Anarchy.   "I know one will."

At that moment a man in a yellow salamander suit appeared.  "Morning, Paul," the salamander said.  "Ready to do this?"

"Morning, Ray," Grandpa replied.  "You know the answer:  I was born ready."

The salamander nodded.  He spoke into a microphone, which amplified his voice throughout the concrete warehouse.  "Greetings, Black Friday shoppers, and welcome to the Villain's Lair Emporium!  Just like last year everything in the store is 50% off until 9:00 AM!  Also like last year, we have a special deal -- we have Grandpa Anarchy present, and anyone punched by him in the face, head, or chin gets an extra 5% off!  But that's not all -- defeat Grandpa Anarchy, and your entire purchase is free!"

The sidekick ducked and rolled out of the way.  The last image she saw of Grandpa Anarchy was of him swinging his fists and grinning, before he disappeared beneath a horde of shoppers.

FINI