Captain Mansplain laid on his back on the floor of the empty room, trapped in Feminista’s evil hideout. Oh, the humanity. Maybe he really had come to this terrible place to die. Maybe this is what happens when you make yourself a superhero. Perhaps the world doesn’t *need* a Captain Mansplain. Maybe he really is a bad superhero.
Okay, maybe the typical superhero would have realized after less than two hours of slow choking while being caught in an air pipe that he could just untie the cape from his neck and free himself and, you know, not die. Perhaps he wasn’t the brightest of them all, but his intentions were good. Weren’t they?
“No, your intentions really AREN’T good, Captain. But you know that, don’t you?”
Feminista had snuck up on him. Okay, well, it was her lair and she had access to everything and all she’d done was walk in the door, but it still caught him by surprise. He probably would have heard her if he hadn’t been expressing all his interior thoughts and emotions out loud again.
“A-ha! Feminista! You’ve come back for me!”
She glanced down at him in surprise, after eyeing the cape that was still stuck in the pipe. “No dude, I did not come back for you. I invited you here to kill you. You’ve caused your own problems by just being a dingbat. Plus, you’re on *my* turf; I need this room back from you because we’re gonna set up a movie projector and watch Mean Girls while having a giant slumber party on the floor. I’ve got shit to do; you need to get gone right now.”
Captain Mansplain’s eyes widened in alarm. “But no, you can’t kill me!”
Feminista arched an eyebrow. “And why not?”
He smiled what he hoped was a charming smile. “Because we’re really not so different, you and I.”
Feminista gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes that lasted so long Captain Mansplain was about to joke that her face would get stuck like that if she didn’t stop. “Trust me, Captain, we’re incredibly different. To start with, I don’t monologue in front of people before I kill them. Second, I’m not actually a villain, you’re just a smarmy bastard who decided to hate me because I wouldn’t date you and therefore, I became your enemy. Honestly, I’m fine with that, but I’m just tired of your existence, and would like you to go ahead and die now.”
Captain Mansplain had been daydreaming, and glanced back over at Feminista. “What did you say? Sorry; I wasn’t paying attention. I generally don’t listen when you’re talking because it hardly seems worth it since you won’t date me because you’re Lebanese or whatever.”
That’s when her foot collided with his face.
Scent notes: a bottle of expensive Merlot, crisp Anjou pear, a ripe Valencia orange, tart lemon, juicy kumquat. Basically, really delicious sangria.