"Cattle Call"
What's the grind like for teenage sidekicks?
I thought you might enjoy this story that I submitted to Ahoy Comics (“Expect more!”) late last year. A little something for the fanboys and fangirls out there who have daydreamed about the glamorous life of being the sidekick who gets kidnapped all the time. It’s been published in the latest edition of The Toxic Avenger Comics #7, which hit stores last week. I hope you like it, and keep buying physical objects made of paper, ink and paint! (And a couple staples)
CATTLE CALL
“Next!”
The man in the ill-fitting argyle sweater looked at his clipboard and announced, “Josh Jenkins!” He held the door to the other room open while an athletic yet short young man, presumably Josh Jenkins, picked up his duffel and followed him inside.
The other young men in the outer room had a variety of reactions. Some were nervous about their audition, and how their time in the other room would go. Others were more blasé, trying to look like they’d seen it all before, flipping on their phones or concentrating on the beats on their headphones. Ezekiel accidentally dropped his water bottle and spilled a little water on the kid next to him.
“Oops, sorry.”
“Damn, dude, watch yourself,” the other one whined.
“Said I was sorry.”
“Forget about it,” was the reply. “I drop stuff all the time.”
“My name’s Ezekiel.”
“I’m Tighe.”
“’Tide’? What, you’re named after detergent?”
“Open your ears. Tighe. It’s Scottish. You should talk, who ever heard of a sidekick named Ezekiel?”
“I’m gonna be the first,” he said, trying to convince himself.
“Never gonna work. Sounds too religious, for one thing. Also, too long to fit into a word balloon. Multisyllabic first names just ain’t canon. Not how it’s done.”
Ezekiel tossed his head back and sighed. “That’s what I’ve been telling my mother for forever. But she won’t let me shorten it.”
Tighe felt sorry for the tense guy sitting next to him. A hero’s sidekick needed to be brash and confident, but self-doubt could be fatal, both figuratively and literally. “How long you been a ‘gypsy’?”
“What?”
“Auditioning for sidekick. I’ve been doing it for years. It’s a routine now. I know every coffee shop in midtown that will let you sit down and order a glass of water.”
“I only just started,” Ezekiel admitted. “I wanted to get out of my music lessons, so I made a deal with my parents.”
“I’ve come close a few times,” Tighe said. “Came really close with Blue Banshee last month. It was down to me and another guy, and that guy had a driver’s license. Piss me off.”
Ezekiel looked at the far end of the room and saw his mother standing and talking with some other grown-ups. She gave him an excited wave, which made him sink into his hard plastic chair as much as he could.
Tighe told him, “Dude, you gotta set some ground rules. First: Never, ever let your mom come up to the audition. Make her wait in the car, or down in the Sephora shop. Even when they mean well, moms just do NOT get it.”
“Is your mom here?”
“Naw,” Tighe said. “I live with my dad, and he leaves me alone, pretty much. I try and use the ‘broken home’ angle at these sometimes. Try and make my eyes big and watery, hint that my dad beats me and that I’ll be living in the park if I don’t get the gig. Family trauma sells, always has. What could it hurt, y’know?” He swigged from his water bottle and asked, “You got any specialties?”
Ezekiel tried to hid the panic he suddenly felt. “Like what?”
“Martial arts. Gymnastics. Mystic stuff, that you can barely control. Like, I heard of a kid that could change into a werewolf. Of course, the hero felt his alpha-ness threatened, so he got fired. Or killed off. I forget.”
“Um, I’m good with computers.”
“Hacking?” asked Tighe eagerly. “Crypto and money laundering?”
“Maybe. Sure, I guess.”
Tighe laughed a little. “You better learn to sell yourself, man.”
Ezekiel stretched his legs to look a little bigger. “I’m trying to make up my mind. Whether to keep trying out for the heroes, or audition for some villains. What’s a hero, anyway? Just two sides to the same coin.”
“At this point, I’ll take anything. Hero, villain. Ambiguous former hero. Disgraced government killing machine. Even, like second-generation heroes…”
“Aww, no, not nepo babies! They have more issues than anybody.”
“And they go on and on about how hard they have it. So much that they forget to pay you!”
They both laughed and slugged each other. (The problems of second-generation heroes were known to everyone there.) The other young men in the room tried to look too cool to care, but they envied the two relaxing and messing around. Tighe and Ezekiel then spent a few minutes sharing the music they were big on that week.
Ezekiel asked, “Do you even know who this audition is for?”
“Naw,” Tighe said. “It could be for the Green Monitor. He goes through sidekicks like paper napkins, I hear.”
“My dad makes fun of all this. Says it’s a dying industry.”
“Yeah, what isn’t? Zeke.”
Ezekiel paused a second. “How about ‘Zee’?”
Tighe punched his shoulder to signal his approval. “Zee.”
The door opened. “Next!”