Fruck Man
flash fiction by emily j. parnell - excerpted from oatmeal family
At the age of five, Edgar Brainard had six superhero capes hanging on pegs in his bedroom. The capes were made from his father’s worn out work shirts, all a deep navy blue. Mrs. Brainard’s own design, she cut the sleeves and front off the shirts, leaving the back attached to the neckband. The capes buttoned easily around Edgar’s neck, and he requested the collars be left on. He turned the collars up around his chin. Mrs. Brainard used scraps from other worn out clothes to applique designs on the back of the capes. One cape had a bat, another had a dinosaur. Still another had a motorcycle she salvaged from one of his dad’s worn out Evil Knevil t-shirt.
Little Edgar’s favorite cape, which his mother created at his request, sported a fearsome creature with the body of a frog and the head of a duck. Tears of laughter ran down her face as she pieced together her son’s creation. The laughter threated to return each time he swooshed into the room and announced loudly, tiny biceps flexed, “I AM FRUCK MAN! I hop higher than a frog. I fly faster than a duck. I will save the WORLD!” Edgar would crouch down until his hands touched the ground, gather his energy, then burst into a hop. He would then flail wildly around, roaring loud ribbits and quacks. The display was manic, but the Brainards quickly learned that it was not intended as a comedy routine. They pinched their faces into grimaces to fight back smiles, and assured Edgar their expressions were of fear.
They loved their son’s creative gusto and desire to do good, but held no expectations that he would ever become a hero.
Fruck Man’s day did come, though it was long after his mother had placed his cape in a box of keepsakes in the attic. Edgar Brainard fought hard to grow a persona that would not match his oddball name, but by high school his thick glasses held on with a strap and styleless bowl cut indicated he had succumbed to the pressure. He was so uninteresting that bullies had long ago determined he wasn’t even fun to pick on. He was left mostly to himself, buying the occasional friendly encounter by slipping answers to struggling students in advanced math classes, or sometimes drawing pictures and giving them away.
His Junior year of high school, things changed for Edgar. He left the school through a rarely used side door to walk home. A Friday afternoon, the bleachers were empty, waiting to be filled by patrons much later for the small town’s big time football game. The football team had mostly headed home to eat before the big game, but one burly player, Bruce, had lured his cheerleader girlfriend Mandy to the empty bleachers to “talk.”
Mandy soon found herself with her silky black ponytail gripped tightly in Bruce’s left hand, his right hand clasped tightly across her mouth. She knew her desperate, muffled screams wouldn’t reach far. Luckily for her, Edgar passed just as Bruce was trying to score his pregame touchdown beneath her tiny cheerleading skirt. With nothing to his advantage except the element of surprise, Edgar swung a flailing punch at the side of Bruce’s head, sending pangs of confusion and pain through Bruce’s thick head. Edgar’s knuckle was broken, having never been taught the correct way to throw a punch.
Bruce released Mandy who ran to the side doors of the school, but finding they were now locked, continued to run all the way around the school to the front door of the school to find help.
Embarrassed to admit to the janitor she’d nearly been raped, Mandy only told him there was a fight. The janitor and the principal arrived at the bleachers to find nobody.
Bruce played the best game of his life that night, and the cheerleaders cheered their most rousing cheers, despite being short a squad member. Edgar’s parents were taken aback by their son’s purplish black eye and the cut on his lip. He stuck to his story that he fell down the stairs while the emergency room doctors stitched his face and taped his knuckle.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Brainard agreed that the look of pride and satisfaction of Edgar’s pummeled face was the best expression they’d seen on him in years – probably since Fruck Man had hopped around protecting their home. And so at his request, they agreed to let the situation drop – after he assured them he was in no further danger. Edgar was willing to go to the grave with beautiful Mandy’s secret if that’s how she wanted things. He also knew he risked more of Bruce’s hormone-fueled wrath if he told. He’d leave that all up to Mandy.
Mandy didn’t tell authorities or her parents, and she never spoke to Edgar – or even made eye contact with him. But things did change for Edgar. The first few days he walked down the school halls with his swelling brow and purple extending across his eye, the whites stained red from a broken vessel, everyone stared. Of course.
Soon the injuries faded, but eyes still turned to him. Cheerleaders – Mandy’s friends – who had never before noticed him would glance at him from beneath long eyelashes and heavy eyeliner. Some even smiled. Before long, one said “hi” to him – out loud in front of the whole cafeteria. His social status slowly elevated, though very few knew why. By spring his senior year, Edgar had a date for prom. The night would have been perfect if he hadn’t looked up to see Mandy eying him from over Bruce’s massive shoulder, her arms twined around his stocky Neanderthal neck. She turned quickly away before his gaze met hers. At that moment, Edgar learned a formative lesson. Saving someone is not the same as eliminating the problem.
Edgar declared his major before entering college. His mother cried to learn he planned to study criminal justice and become a police officer. Mr. Brainard was proud, and marveled that his son’s childhood dream to be a superhero would be realized – to some extent – as an adult. Edgar’s parents still did not know Edgar’s dream had already been realized, and perhaps piqued, one afternoon under the high school bleachers.
Two decades later, Fruck Man’s memory was stifled beneath mounds of routine paperwork documenting accidents and routine traffic tickets in the quiet Southeastern Colorado town. The superhero bravado was left behind as Edgar rounded up petty criminals, and only peeked out occasionally to hop to a crime scene and fly after suspects. But when the call came that the wanted criminal was sitting at a picnic bench outside the Colorado Sand Dunes with his hostage, Edgar’s drive to be a hero rose up once again. But this time, he wouldn’t have to take a beating to save the girl, and this time, Fruck Man would give the criminal what he deserved.
Little Edgar’s favorite cape, which his mother created at his request, sported a fearsome creature with the body of a frog and the head of a duck. Tears of laughter ran down her face as she pieced together her son’s creation. The laughter threated to return each time he swooshed into the room and announced loudly, tiny biceps flexed, “I AM FRUCK MAN! I hop higher than a frog. I fly faster than a duck. I will save the WORLD!” Edgar would crouch down until his hands touched the ground, gather his energy, then burst into a hop. He would then flail wildly around, roaring loud ribbits and quacks. The display was manic, but the Brainards quickly learned that it was not intended as a comedy routine. They pinched their faces into grimaces to fight back smiles, and assured Edgar their expressions were of fear.
They loved their son’s creative gusto and desire to do good, but held no expectations that he would ever become a hero.
Fruck Man’s day did come, though it was long after his mother had placed his cape in a box of keepsakes in the attic. Edgar Brainard fought hard to grow a persona that would not match his oddball name, but by high school his thick glasses held on with a strap and styleless bowl cut indicated he had succumbed to the pressure. He was so uninteresting that bullies had long ago determined he wasn’t even fun to pick on. He was left mostly to himself, buying the occasional friendly encounter by slipping answers to struggling students in advanced math classes, or sometimes drawing pictures and giving them away.
His Junior year of high school, things changed for Edgar. He left the school through a rarely used side door to walk home. A Friday afternoon, the bleachers were empty, waiting to be filled by patrons much later for the small town’s big time football game. The football team had mostly headed home to eat before the big game, but one burly player, Bruce, had lured his cheerleader girlfriend Mandy to the empty bleachers to “talk.”
Mandy soon found herself with her silky black ponytail gripped tightly in Bruce’s left hand, his right hand clasped tightly across her mouth. She knew her desperate, muffled screams wouldn’t reach far. Luckily for her, Edgar passed just as Bruce was trying to score his pregame touchdown beneath her tiny cheerleading skirt. With nothing to his advantage except the element of surprise, Edgar swung a flailing punch at the side of Bruce’s head, sending pangs of confusion and pain through Bruce’s thick head. Edgar’s knuckle was broken, having never been taught the correct way to throw a punch.
Bruce released Mandy who ran to the side doors of the school, but finding they were now locked, continued to run all the way around the school to the front door of the school to find help.
Embarrassed to admit to the janitor she’d nearly been raped, Mandy only told him there was a fight. The janitor and the principal arrived at the bleachers to find nobody.
Bruce played the best game of his life that night, and the cheerleaders cheered their most rousing cheers, despite being short a squad member. Edgar’s parents were taken aback by their son’s purplish black eye and the cut on his lip. He stuck to his story that he fell down the stairs while the emergency room doctors stitched his face and taped his knuckle.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Brainard agreed that the look of pride and satisfaction of Edgar’s pummeled face was the best expression they’d seen on him in years – probably since Fruck Man had hopped around protecting their home. And so at his request, they agreed to let the situation drop – after he assured them he was in no further danger. Edgar was willing to go to the grave with beautiful Mandy’s secret if that’s how she wanted things. He also knew he risked more of Bruce’s hormone-fueled wrath if he told. He’d leave that all up to Mandy.
Mandy didn’t tell authorities or her parents, and she never spoke to Edgar – or even made eye contact with him. But things did change for Edgar. The first few days he walked down the school halls with his swelling brow and purple extending across his eye, the whites stained red from a broken vessel, everyone stared. Of course.
Soon the injuries faded, but eyes still turned to him. Cheerleaders – Mandy’s friends – who had never before noticed him would glance at him from beneath long eyelashes and heavy eyeliner. Some even smiled. Before long, one said “hi” to him – out loud in front of the whole cafeteria. His social status slowly elevated, though very few knew why. By spring his senior year, Edgar had a date for prom. The night would have been perfect if he hadn’t looked up to see Mandy eying him from over Bruce’s massive shoulder, her arms twined around his stocky Neanderthal neck. She turned quickly away before his gaze met hers. At that moment, Edgar learned a formative lesson. Saving someone is not the same as eliminating the problem.
Edgar declared his major before entering college. His mother cried to learn he planned to study criminal justice and become a police officer. Mr. Brainard was proud, and marveled that his son’s childhood dream to be a superhero would be realized – to some extent – as an adult. Edgar’s parents still did not know Edgar’s dream had already been realized, and perhaps piqued, one afternoon under the high school bleachers.
Two decades later, Fruck Man’s memory was stifled beneath mounds of routine paperwork documenting accidents and routine traffic tickets in the quiet Southeastern Colorado town. The superhero bravado was left behind as Edgar rounded up petty criminals, and only peeked out occasionally to hop to a crime scene and fly after suspects. But when the call came that the wanted criminal was sitting at a picnic bench outside the Colorado Sand Dunes with his hostage, Edgar’s drive to be a hero rose up once again. But this time, he wouldn’t have to take a beating to save the girl, and this time, Fruck Man would give the criminal what he deserved.
