By ZubazPants.com on 5-3-2006

Goofy shit happens sometimes.

You could be chillin’ and playing Bubble Bobble on your old school Nintendo, eatin’ some Chef Boyardee Raviolis on the couch, or sittin’ around the Holy Zubazian Table at the Fortress of Zubazitude with the stable of ZubazPants.com Zubazkateers talkin’ about all the latest Zubaz news while rockin’ Zubaz pants, of course.

Well, that’s how this “goofy shit” happened to us writers at ZubazPants.com at least. We were all just hanging out, discussing Ian Valentine’s latest sexual conquest (he piledrived four girls on the escalator at Sears), when our arch nemesis, “Evil Queen Megz from MySpace” busted in with a barrel of toxic goo and whipped that baby right in the middle of the table.

Her cowboy hat gives her the superhuman strength to throw barrels of toxic waste at unsuspecting writers.

Although we all were splashed with this slime, our first reaction was a collectively agitated, “DUDE!” Friggin’ MegZ had just ruined our god damn dinner. You just don’t know how much effort it takes to put together a Boston Market Family Meal for 22.

After the initial shock of the situation wore off, we began to get a bit worried about the fact that we were covered in green, glowing toxic slime. We had the feeling that this wasn’t going to end well.

MegZ than started shouting some gibberish about killing us all for not replying to her posts on MySpace, but at this point the toxic waste was a taking hold and we all began to pass out …

The toxins put all of us in a daze for days, and we all ended up going in different directions with no recollection of it.

About a week later however, we all came to, and discovered that the toxic waste had a little extra effect besides a weeklong bout with amnesia …

The toxic waste caused the members of ZubazPants.com to get Super Powers.

Scraping the green goo from my face, I can’t help but feel a tingling sensation rush through my body. One very similar to the feeling of sitting “Indian style” for so long that it tingles when you stand. My head is pounding and the last thing I remember seeing before I blacked out was a rusty old barrel flying from the hands of some chick wearing a cowboy hat. Whatever this green goo is, it completely melted my shirt right off, and I know I can easily rule out the chances that I got in a scuffle with Slimer.

I pick myself up from the pavement and continue walking to Rosie O’Donnell’s, the famous pub down the street I frequent daily at 1:00 p.m. every afternoon. I grab my favorite stool, order a fine lager, and point my eyes towards the TV which is blinking “Breaking News.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen the governor is calling for a shutdown of the city due to a toxic spill. City officials ask that you remain in your cars or homes as long as possible until the spill is completely cleaned up. In further news, it seems as if chocolate creation legend Russell Stover will be teaming up with world famous hip hop producer Russell Simmons to create a new line of guns and ammo inspired candies.”

A toxic spill!?!? Holy crap, that’s what it was!

Fear was quickly setting in, but I tried to stay positive and think of a running waterfall. With my eyes closed I can almost picture the waterfall, taste the droplets pouring over the edge, and I can hear the thunder of the water as it hits the rocks beneath. I open my eyes, and I am still a shirtless bastard covered in goo. Dammit, I knew that Alex Mack was full of shit.

Maybe I just need a shower, get spruced up, and everything will be alright. I feel fine, I can see fine, and my memory is finally starting to come back. I raise my hand and point at the bartender in an attempt to get his attention and close my tab.

The bartender looks my way and without blinking he hurdles the drinks in his hand clear across the bar. Glass shatters everywhere causing the patrons at the bar to become startled. A huge grin appears on the man’s face as he hops atop the bar in a single bound. He begins snapping his fingers and his hips are shifting side to side in perfect unison. I point to the guy next to me ask, “Are you seeing this guy?”

He looks my way, and a no more than a second later, he is running thru the bar giving everyone high fives like he’s Pee Wee Herman on ecstasy (or just regular Pee Wee Herman, they’re kind of one and the same).

Grabbing a champagne glass that rests above the bar, he clenches the glass as hard as he can, holds it up to his mouth, and contorts his face in a way that cannot be described. Some sort of a mix between Chester Cheeto and Marc Summers from the “What Would You Do” years.

“It's not unusual to be loved by anyone. It’s not unusual to have fun with anyone.”

Is this really happening? Is he on top of the bar along with the bartender performing a dead on rendition of Tom Jones’ “It’s Not Unusual”?

Out of nowhere both men front flip off the bar and land in a split on the ground, hop up and continue…“but when I see you hanging about with anyone.”

I can’t help but be extremely confused by the situation and I sprint towards the door and point to the nearest cabbie to haul my ass out of this crazy place.

The cab comes to a screeching halt in front of me and the smell of burnt rubber emanates into the air along with the smoke from the tires. As the smoke slowly dissipates, I can make out an image of a person in front of me. It’s my cab driver Abdul, in a pleather powder white jumpsuit and high heeled boots on the roof of his cab. He jumps towards the nearest tree grabbing it with one arm and shaking his other hand as if some sort of a mix between disco inferno and the early Vaudeville acts.

The two men from inside the bar now take to the streets along with Abdul, running up and down entire city blocks skipping arm in arm all while still staying perfectly in sync with the Tom Jones tune.

Stunned by what my eyes were seeing, my mind slowly starts coming to the realization that I may have had something to do with this. I had pointed at all three of these grown men and each time, it was only a matter of seconds until they spontaneously broke out into a dance number.

No. It couldn’t be possible. Could the toxic spill have had something to do with this? Was this god’s way of granting me the gift of entertainment wherever I was? No, no it can’t be. There was no way to be sure however, except to try it again and see what happened.

Coming down the street was an elderly woman walking her Chihuahua companion. I closed my eyes and put out my fist. Slowly I lifted my pointer finger until it was perpendicular with the old lady. I opened my eyes and waited. I could hear Abdul singing, “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” in the background while the two men from the bar performed a tap dancing shuffle as accompaniment.

The woman didn’t flinch. She just continued walking at her own pace minding her and her dogs business.

“I knew it,” I said.
“It was just some freaky coincide…”

The woman paused for a moment and dropped her dog leash. The chiuauaha, realizing his chance for freedom, began sprinting towards the woods.

I pointed at the dog and looked at the woman shouting, “Your puppy is running away, get that leash back on him.”

She was motionless, barely blinking, when all of a sudden she reached towards the collar of her dress with both hands and began to tear the entire thing off straight down the middle. In the middle of a busy city street this 95-year old woman had stripped down to nothing but a black negligee. She dropped to her knees, and began throwing rose petals into the air like Bea Arthur on ecstasy (or just regular Bea Arthur, they’re kind of one and the same.)

It was true! That green goo that was on me was from toxic spill and had given me the power to cause anyone to break out into show tunes at the very point of my finger!

“This has to be the best damn power ever!” I exclaimed as I turned around and saw a sight that can only be experienced once in a lifetime. Abdul and the bar guys had formed a human pyramid, and at the top was the Chihuahua shaking it’s thang, holding a leash in her left paw, and swinging it over her head. All the while the old woman skipped around them throwing rose petals in every direction.

My heart was beating faster than ever as my mind raced with uses for my newly acquired power. Should I take to the streets and create the worlds largest dance ensemble, or should I alert the authorities and try to get myself out of this mess. That’s when I thought of a compromise, I will alert the proper authorities of my situation, but only after I have turned this city upside down with pole dancers, tree swingers, and every other type of act you would usually see on Broadway.

I was now sprinting down the busy city streets with my fingers out, just pointing them at anything that lived, moved or breathed. I watched two men washing windows on the 43rd floor of the Grand Zuba Hotel slide down the entire building holding only the metal cables that held their platform safely above the ground. When they reached the bottom they grabbed hands, flexed at each other, and frolicked off singing Tony Bennett’s, “Stranger In Paradise.”

A crowd of about 10 people outside of a hot dog vendor were caught in the path of my finger. One by one, they lined up along the ledge of a nearby fountain and in perfect unison, performed a swan dive into the fountain, leaving barely any splash in their wake. As they rose from the water holding sparklers in both hands and one clenched in their teeth, an entire flock of seagulls swooped in, joined wings, and began to tango in front of the fountain for all to see.

Out of breath from sprinting through the streets for hours, I just stop and look around me. Everything from the insects in the ground to the gods above me are dancing under my control and for my delight.

I look up and scream, “I AM THE MAN!” and point to myself in sheer excitement as an orca whale jumps out from the nearest manhole, flies over my head, and dives into the sewer on the other side.

“Wait did I just point to myself …”

Before I could even get the entire sentence out, I could feel my toes beginning to bend in harmony. The very superpower that presented me with so much entertainment for the past few hours, was now about to take me over. My fingers began to bend and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Even screaming at the top of my lungs in fear, came out sounding like a new James Blunt hit.

I was skipping out of control and there was no way to stop. I had no choice over the direction of my body as my legs briskly carried me to the middle of the road where I was presented with a top hat and cane. All of a sudden my legs stop and my right foot begins to stomp on the ground. My mouth opens, I hold up my cane with joy, and out of nowhere comes, “Anthony works in the grocery store, saving his pennies for some day…” The world is spinning around me, and the entire city is now my backup. They throw me into the air and I land on right on my feet like nothing happened.

“Mama Leone left a note on the door…” is the last thing I belt out before an out of control pickup truck comes barreling through the street. A bungee cord in the back snaps and all I see is a rusty old barrel coming straight for me.

I have no control; my legs just keep on dancing along with the rest of the group. I close my eyes, “A heart attack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack”

BOOOM!

Without a doubt in my mind, my newfound superpower will be used for evil. The power has already gone right to my head, effectively putting an end to mild-mannered Matt Fishman, and transforming me into a villain known as…THE DEVIL!

No, scratch that. THE RED DEVIL!

No, that sucks. It needs more of a kick. Maybe some Spanish spice. EL DIABLO!

No, “El Diablo” no es bueno. I got it. I finally got it.

EL DIABLO DE ROJO!

So, what is my superpower? I have evil telekinesis. But how does this differ from regular ol’ telekinesis? Simple. I just use it for evil. Not evil as in murder or robbing a bank. It would never be anything bad enough to attract the attention of superheroes. I would use it for, say, something like this:

HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! YES! EAT IT, YOU DUMB BASTARD! Do you see? This is what I do with my telekinesis. Only with me, it is evil telekinesis. Oh, there’s some douche playing soccer over there! Let me just use my power…

BOOM! HAHAHAHAHA!!! That was all me! All me! Man, this is the best power EVER! Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you had it, people. You know you would. Hey, want to throw some animals into traffic? OBSERVE THE WRATH OF EL DIABLO DE ROJO!

OUCH! Goodness, this is TOO fun! Gee, I wonder what would happen if I use my evil telekinesis on myself. I’m sure nothing bad will happen. Here I g-