No Case

There's a summons in my lap. Two weeks from today. It doesn't take long when rich people want their day in court.

I've never been in a courtroom before, not when they're in session. I don't know what's going to happen. I have some new lawyer calling me now. We got into an argument when I explained that I don't care about philanthropy, but she still calls to "keep me informed," so I listen, but it doesn't really matter. I'm gonna lose the house. I know it, and she knows it. All her legal talk doesn't distract me. I know bullshit when I hear it. She's got nothing. Worse than that, she's got me, and I'm the worst thing that could happen to my case. She acts like she cares, but I know what her job is. She gets payed, win or lose.

I'm scared of going on the stand. In a way, I'm more scared of that than I am of losing the house. I told her I don't want to do it, but she swears she can make it work. Again, bullshit. It's my house, my case, I should get to decide.

I Have No Patience

I suck at waiting. How long did my goodwill last? Less than a day.

I'm not a charitable person. That was my parent's thing. I'm a taker. I don't give. My career as a superhero should be enough to prove that. I'm not even that good at taking, or they wouldn't be taking the house back. The bottom line is that I fail at everything.

I haven't been sleeping right. Every time I'm about to fall asleep, I feel like I'm falling, and I jerk back awake to make sure I'm not. It's like when I was first learning to fly, when I'd wake up in the air, and I'd fall and hurt myself and wish I could keep it from happening.

I haven't been able to fly lately either. I can do it for a second, but when I get in the air, I have to fall to go up, and I panic and I really fall. The problem is really that I don't want to fall. I care what happens. When I lie down to sleep I feel the same way. I can't make myself let go, it happens or it doesn't.

I just want my house. I want to stay here and have everyone else go away.

Restless

I can't sleep. Maybe I can fix this. I can find out what my parent's charities were and move them back in the house. They should have told me this might happen. Somebody should have.

Shit. Those letters.

I just remembered. When I first moved in here, there was big a stack of mail, so I ignored it. It got bigger, but there started to be things for me sometimes, so I would see it, and one day, I was really bored and went through it. There was all this stuff from the center for this, association of that and the something foundation. I thought they wanted more money, and they were so clearly marked, I just threw them out, and I threw out all the new ones when they came in, too. I fucked up.

It gives me a plan though. I'll wait for more letters, and I'll go to the places they're from, and I'll ask them, politely, if they want to use my house again. Simple.

You Call This FINE PRINT?

I have more information now. Apparently, the house was given to me in my parents will so I can "continue the philanthropic enterprises it houses." FUCK. This is news to me. Did they tell me that? I don't remember. I had no idea ownership of the house was conditional. I don't even know what their philanthropic enterprises were.

I like it here. I don't want to move out. Jesus, my hands are shaking. What the hell?

It's not like this is my childhood home or anything, like I came here for christmas every year, but I never lived in a mansion before, and I had no idea what I was missing. You can't use rooms in an apartment like you use rooms in a mansion. You have one for thinking, one for reading, one for the cool blue window thing from the light in the summer. I never cared about that stuff before. When I first moved in, it was just there. Now I might be losing it. What the fuck?

They're Taking My Home

Something's wrong. That's all I know. The legal minutia are lost on me, but there's some other lawyer who's trying to take my house away. He can't do that. I freaking live here. This is bullshit.

I don't even know if it's real or not. My parent's lawyer says he'll handle it. He told me not to do anything. Is he crazy? He doesn't know I have super powers. There has to be something I can do. He doesn't know anything.

This Can't Be Good

Probate lawyer called again. No way he'd call on a Saturday if it was good news. I'm not optimistic, and now I gotta go down to his office to "talk." If I don't go, he'll keep calling me, trying to make me feel guilty. I'll go. Shit.

I gotta take the car. I can't land in the parking lot, even on a Saturday, without having to answer more questions than I already do. At least I get to smoke on the way. People are all about safety first, but it helps me drive. I get nervous behind the wheel of an automobile, always have. Besides, it'll help me deal with the lawyer, and he doesn't care if I walk in there all bleary eyed. He gets payed either way.

Stupid Mail

I flew North yesterday. I'm starting to get a little sense of the compass directions. I used to have a compass keychain, but it broke when I tried to open a beer with it, so I got a beer opener keychain. Anyway, I've flown all around this area. There's nothing new to see from the air, and nothing seems that interesting once I land, so I kept drifting North, not paying attention, and I ended up pretty far off.

I passed a city and went down. It was dark, so I could spot the hotels by the neon signs, but nobody saw me land. I got a room for the night. I've barely been out of the house for months. It felt weird to sleep somewhere else. Plus, it got to be day, and the curtains in those places never make it dark enough to sleep through the sunlight. It's supposed to be winter, no sun. What the hell?

There was a letter when I got back. I didn't read the whole thing, but I guess there's some new legal issue with my parent's will. I didn't want to deal with any of that stuff the first time, there's no way I'm gonna go back now. I thought being a superhero was supposed to be a thrill a minute, always some psychopath pointing a death ray at something. I shouldn't have to deal with this legal bullshit. I'll fly South next time.

My Resolution Is To Stop Being So Lame

So I was gonna go to this thing last night, but it never happened, so I got myself a bottle of the good stuff and had my own party. It sucks because new year's is totally one of my favorite holidays. Maybe it's something about only having to think about the holiday for a few seconds, I don't know. Anyway, I was looking forward to this, but something always comes along and things fall apart.

So I spent another night, just me in this big house by myself. It's actually starting to feel kind of lonely. Should I get a butler? Where would I even find one? I think those kinds of things are passed down from generation to generation. They're not making new butlers anymore. I could ask Jeeves, but the algorithm killed him. Now it's just Ask. It's dumb. If people wanted generic, they'd just google like a normal person.

The good news is I awoke today with no trace of a hangover. That's what happens when you go for the good stuff. I don't usually make resolutions I know I won't keep, but that thing up in the title would be nice.