This piece was written for my first Leeds Savage Club meet on the theme ‘Routine’. A jolly nice bunch of people they are too.
Another morning in the Kent household. Forget the alarm clock, my body clock is accurate to a nanosecond. 7.30 sharp, my eyes open and I slip silently out from under the Spiderman duvet leaving Lois to continue her journey to Morning Town undisturbed. She’s got a day off and a rude awakening is one piece of news I don’t want to write about. It’ll take more than nerves of steel to face waking that particular grisly bear on a day off. I creep out to the bathroom then hit the shower. Eight seconds later I’m washed and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I don’t mess about. I have to wait a minute for the steam to evaporate so a quick on the spot cyclone spin and I’m dried off. I return to focus my gaze upon my reflection in the mirror. You may think there is a touch of vanity going on here but I can assure you not. I narrow my eyes, calculate the correct angle of trajectory and with pinpoint precision I focus my laser beam vision onto the mirror surface and let it reflect back upon my face to clear the nights build up of stubble. Who needs to mess around with shaving foam and razors? There’s no shortcut for my gleaming white incisors but I can polish a full set till they sparkle in less than four seconds flat. No one wants to be rescued by a hunk with bad teeth. The hair takes a little longer and a smidgen of wax just to get that forelock to sit right. Looking good, I grab my robe from the hook on the door taking the hook with it. I forget my own strength sometimes. I’ll need to fill and repair that when I get home. I kid myself, and hope Lois doesn’t notice. I put on my robe, neatly monikered with the letters CK, and head to my closet.It’s quite a large closet, for a guy, with two big open out compartment doors. On the left hand side I keep my suits and shirts. They’re all hung up neatly, buttoned up, pressed and starched. A selection of ties hang on a rail from behind the door. Next to these on a little rack are six identical pairs of my signature black rimmed spectacles. I’m telling you, you wouldn’t believe how quickly I go through a pair of specs, my dispensing optician loves me. At the bottom lie a neat row of polished black brogues. To the right of the closet hang my special suits, you know, the famous blue and red numbers complete with matching capes. I usually keep two on standby and one at the cleaners. I tell ya too, they’re not the most comfortable set of threads in the world. I’ve put on a pound or two since I met Lois and despite the ‘one size fits all’ label they still feel a bit on the tight side. Worse still when you have to keep them on underneath your day clothes you need a super human bladder. Believe me, you do not want to get caught short with a tight fitting costume on beneath your civvies, that’s for sure! A little dose of talc is in order too before I stretch one on, just to stop it chaffing. Once I’m suited up I have to lower my body temperature by two degrees or it becomes unbearable! I glance over toward the bedroom wall and with my x-ray vision and check that Lois is still sleeping soundly. She’s still exhaling the zeds. Sometimes she can sleep through the sound of a bomb exploding on her day off. That’s not a joke by the way, it happened two Tuesdays ago a couple of blocks down. I’d heard the ticking before it went off and flew out of the window with mere seconds to spare, shielded the blast with my cape, rescued a granny and her cat on the ninety-sixth floor and returned to find Lois still slumbering. I envy that girl at times, a grenade pin drops three miles away and I’m awake in an instant.
I finish getting dressed then make my way to the kitchen and throw two slices of sour dough in the air over a plate. Before they touch down I give them a light toasting with a quick laser glance and reach for the butter and marmalade. There’s still a cupful of coffee in the pot from last night so another brief stare and it’s steaming hot. I detect a feint rattle in the lobby of our apartment block, despite us being on the sixty eighth floor, it must be the paperboy. I quietly sneak out the front door and rush down the stairs. I spot Mr. Jones from number twenty one on his way up but don’t stop to chat. To him there’s a sudden gust of wind down the stairwell and he doesn’t even register me. Six seconds later I’m back in the kitchen, newspaper in hand. I pull up to the breakfast bar and see that Lois got a front page spread on yesterdays shark attack rescue down on pier eighteen. Jimmy got a good action shot in too. I even managed a diamond white smile for the camera as I forced open the sharks jaws with my bare hands releasing its vice like grip on the flailing fisherman. It’s a good piece by Lois, it still amazes the chief that Lois is the only hack on the rag who can manage to get a direct quote from the man of steel himself before he makes a sharp exit. Little does he know!
I check my watch out of habit, I’m running a little late. Still, I can’t hang around there’s another headline to write and a world to keep safe. I creep back to the bedroom, plant a gentle kiss on Lois’s forehead so as not to wake her before returning to the kitchen. The subway is going to be jammed at this hour so I tear off my suit and shirt, roll them up into my briefcase then clamber out of the window and soar off to work. There’s a telephone booth on a quiet side street near sixth avenue, I’ll get changed there.
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‘Routine’ by Tony Scott is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.