The Shin-Kicker

Over the course of the summer, I had the chance to read Bill Bryson’s The Thunderbolt Kid. I loved that book; the whole concept of being able to smote people into a pile of dust really just appeals to me. I, too, would like to have super powers. I, too, would like to smote those people who just irritate the hell out of me. I’m telling you this because tonight I decided that if I was a superhero, I would be The Shin-Kicker. Yes, The Shin-Kicker would dress like a Catholic school girl: plaid skirt, white button down shirt, cute little ponytail, tortoiseshell glasses. Only, instead of little Mary Janes, The Shin-Kicker would have angry feminist boots. You know the type of boots I’m talking about: the steel toed Doc Marten’s with the thick industrial soles. The type of boot that would crush a man’s testicles if a girl was so inclined to take aim at his crotch.

As The Shin-Kicker, my super power would be to make grown men (and little snarky twitheaded students) fall to the ground, screaming as they burst into dust. Like Buffy and her vampires, but without the stake. Vigilante justice. Vengeance. Making the world a better place. Well, at the very least, making myself feel better.

I tell you about my superhero, because I could have used these awesome powers today. The first victims? My intro class. Please, please explain to me how 75 percent of the students in my class earned an F on the exam? Seriously, are they that f*cking lazy? Now, I understand that some kids are going to struggle; those kids would be exempt from the wrath of The Shin-Kicker. However, The Skin-Kicker would take out the little sorority girl who giggles through class, the boys who are probably looking at porn on their laptops, and the little twit who showed up for the first time in three weeks to take her test.

The Shin-Kicker would have had a very active day today. Not only would she have administered justice upon the failures, but she would have had ample opportunity to take out the imbeciles at the high school football game tonight. First up: the coach from the opposing team who displayed bad sportsmanship and was an all-around tacky a**hole. Who kicks an onside kick when they are up 40+ points? (Sidebar: Yes, the Coach’s team got stomped … on their homecoming no less … where a girl on the homecoming court actually had *two* male escorts.) Second up: the parents who cheered when their kid tackled a player in the end zone. As in, cheered while the other team scored against us. Seriously, are they that impaired? Third up: the parents of the girl whose boobs were falling out of her homecoming dress. Now, I admit that I sometimes exaggerate for the purposes of humor, but this time I’m not. The girl had be at least a Double D. I’m talking Dolly Parton here. The dress was cut down to her waist and it had these stripes … stripes that pointed right at her navel. Stripes that could only make one stare at her enormous ta-tas. If my dirty ol’ uncle saw this girl, he would have drooled so much that he would have died from dehydration. (Sidebar: My faithful readers will remember the tale of The Hillbilly Harlot. Yeah, The Hillbilly Harlot has nothing on Little Miss Cleavage.) Finally, The Shin-Kicker would have been inclined to give a little tap to those high schoolers who listed “texting” and “talking on the cell phone” as hobbies. Seriously? Those are hobbies? Even the guys who listed frog gigging as a hobby were more amusing than these bubble-headed teenage bimbos.

Of course, The Shin-Kicker would have been useful when I went shopping “in da’ hood” on Wednesday night, but that’s a tale for another blog entry.

A Final Note: The Shin-Kicker could use a faithful sidekick. Any suggestions? When I told The Coach that he could be my sidekick, he didn’t seem too excited. I told him that his super power would be that he could throw a football 300 yards and always hit the person he was aiming for. The person would then burst into flames and sizzle into a pile of ashes. (The football would have the accuracy of that military drone from Weeds, if you know what I mean?) The Coach is still in a bad mood; his only response was that he wasn’t feeling creative enough to play along. {sniff}