Changing the Rules

"Hi," said Warren, standing at the front door.

"Hi," said Jimmy, still with the door handle in his hand. He suddenly became aware of it. He felt a buzz in his stomach, as he saw Warren standing there.

"Jimmy Westborough, I presume," said Warren, making a gesture of bowing, but never really moving. Holding Jimmy's gaze.

Jimmy liked to go by the name of Westbro, it reminded him of the wild west. But it, actually, came from the fact that his family came from the West Borough. Warren said it reminded him of suburbia and apron strings and cut grass on Sundays and people without a clue. He couldn't get passed the borough connotation, it made him feel centred and whole.

"It reminds me of where I came from, you know," said Warren.

“It makes me think of power and the future and everything working out fine,” said Jimmy.

So Jimmy Westbro it was. Action Man, he used to think, fantasise about it, laugh at. He still had the tights and the green cape he wore to the fancy dress party, at the end of school, when he went as a super hero. He lost the g-string his sister had made him wear the night he went out as Westbro Man.

"Well, you can't have it all, you know, flopping about down there," said his sister. "You're my brother and I love you, but there are limits."

Jimmy thought of his sister and couldn't stop himself smiling. He wanted to say, can't have it messy down there, but didn't.

"Green Hornet?"

Warren's arch rival to Westborough Man was the Green Hornet. Not so much arch rival as sparing buddy. Warren thought up the environmental super hero to counter Jimmy's creation. His surname is Green, it wasn't such a stretch. It was boy's stuff, it had never meant so much, before.

Warren cocked his head and spoke as if he spoke of a truth. "You have your mission..."

Jimmy swore he was sweating. "Should I choose... to... accept?" Spoken defensively.

They held each other's gaze and momentarily their peripheral vision stopped working.

"As usual, this tape will self destruct in ten seconds." Warren's monotone broke the trance.

Jimmy sat up in bed, inhaling sharply, grabbing the pillow to steady himself. He looked over at his bedside clock. Midday. He’d slept the morning away. Why was he dreaming about Westbro Man? He hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

The doorbell rang, it's shrill bell-like jangle. Jimmy jumped. Dived out of bed, pulling his track suit pants on as he ran up the hallway, half asleep. He looked through the peep hole. It was Warren jigging up and down on the souls of his feet.

He pulled the door open. The sun blinded and, at the same time felt warm on his torso. He shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand. Warren came back into focus.

"How did you pull up," said Jimmy. "How drunk were you?"

Jimmy so wanted to sound normal. He grimaced at the drunk connotation. Straight to it; the big black monster. Warren looked shiny.

"Yeah, drunk hey." said Warren. "Can remember much. Didn't see much of yesterday."