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The Fuel

Spider-Man Helmet

"Mom, can I have this?" I asked her, with a Spider-Man helmet in my hands. CSPC, ASTM as it said on the tag. I put it on and locked the safety class under my chin.


"Jeremy, scale it down a notch. You have to stop asking for things you already have," she said, holding a Purell anti-bacterial in one hand. "People are dying."


"It's Spider-Man," I begged.


"He took out his tonsils and kisses girls upside down, and you still think he's your favorite?" Mom said. Her cheeks turned red and I knew I had to stop asking or we won't go out for lunch and I'd have to eat left-overs.


"Are you angry with me?" I asked, with the helmet still on.


"Honey, you know how only fat people go to the Dairy Queen? Spoiled kids will always get bad parking spots when they get their driver's license when they turn 16," she replied. "Do you want to be spoiled? Do you think that's a fair life?"


I took a breath and walked to the next aisle and saw a man with his glasses upside down. I didn't want to ask what happened to him, but he probably had popcorn flavored jelly beans stuck up his nose when he was little too.


"Mom, can I have a pen?" I asked her and took a pen to show her.


"Yes, put it in the cart," she said, as she took the pen from my hands.


"I have one at home, how come I can't have the helmet?" I asked, with the helmet still on.


Her lips quivered, as she stared at my face, then closed her eyes with her right hand. 

"I won't be spoiled, I promise," I told her. The insides of my stomach tickled because I knew if I had this helmet, I could ride my bicycle faster than my Dad's Volvo.


"No, but thank you for the laughs, baby," she told me, as she burst into laughter.


"Fine," I dragged my feet to the back of the store and took off the Spider-Man helmet and felt lousy like yesterday's towel.


"Jeremy, hurry up!" Mom yelled at me, while pushing her cart towards my direction.


Like always, I ran to her cart and stood backwards on the front wheel with my arms stretched back, holding the front of the cart.


Mom pushed me down the toilet paper aisle, and I flew the rest of the shopping away.


"Mom, look at that Slime Kit!" my eyes popped.


Just write.

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