Magical Underpants

Being 5 was a magical time for me. I was absolutely convinced at the time that I was, in fact, a rare cross breed of She-Ra and Wonder Woman.
One of a kind: Wonder Ra! No, too much like Wonder Bra. Hmm, She-Man? No, that's worse...

say what you will but you can't deny its got a good attitude

Christmas 5 years old:

I creep downstairs to plunder my goods - I had only asked for every Transformers figure that there was in existence and for a signature from Santa himself. You see, in Kindergarten that year, a malicious rumor had been spread that Santa was a fraud. I was incensed! But I was not powerless - no, I knew all I needed was proof. But how to get it? I decided to leave a small, heartfelt, note (my mom told me how to spell everything: "Aren't you worried Santa will be offended you don't think he is real"? Me:".........No. We're wasting time! How do you spell 'here'"?). I left it next to the milk and cookies, it read:

"Santa - sign here."

I wasn't much for schmoozing: Let's get down to business, Fat Man, gimme yer damn scrawl and we'll call it even.


Goddamn Kids...

Santa complied! Holy Crap! Can you imagine - hard evidence with which to assault the liars! I later sold that signature for 50 cents (This was the mid 80's - it was unheard of at the time on the Kindergarten Black Market)!
Santa also left me two gifts that changed my life. These two presents made me realize, in a way I could not yet verbalize nor fully comprehend, that I was a miniature megalomaniac. This epiphany, though wonderful, ended up leaving me with a scar I possess to this day.

The gifts! What did I see but Wonder Woman Underoo set! Hot damn - that bitch has nothing on me now! And, also under the tree, a She-Ra helmet/face mask thing with a sword and a cape!!! I was invincible. Now, I could finally show the world - thanks to my nylon underpants and plastic accoutrements- that I meant business!
I geared up and wore my outfit all day. By the end of the evening - I realized: "What am I doing walking around like a chump - when I can fly!?" (Neither woman flew on her own, I know, but at the time that was a minor detail and major failing on their part - but not for me, suckers!)
Most children attempt to fly from the edge of the couch. Losers. Not me, I went to the top of the stairs and let me tell you: the giddy rush I had while I ascended -- the sudden knowing of how great things were about to be was overwhelming.
I turn around and look down at the steps. So great!

............JUMP!!!

Now, this was horrifying to me at the time and completely unbelievable (and enraging) but I didn't actually fly down into the kitchen to see my mom doing the dishes and then swoop outside to impress my friends - no! I tumbled end over end the whole way. Son of a bitch!

I was met at the bottom of the stairs by the corner of the wall and I bashed my head just above my eye. It, of course, split open and blood gushed everywhere. It was very dramatic - my mother came running "Jesus Christ! What was that!?" (She actually took the Lord's name in vain - on Christmas! Who does that?)

"Are you all right!? Baby, baby, look at me!"

But anger had blinded me. That and a fair amount of blood.

I had been lied to! LYING BY OMISSION. Nobody specifically said "Hey, stupid, you can't fly." Of course I thought I could.
I ended up in the hospital - needed 6 stitches and I still have a faint - but awesome - scar running through my eyebrow.
"What were you thinking!? Are you insane? You could've been killed!" She was over reacting, big surprise.
This was a traumatic day for the whole family, but mostly for me. Santa had neglected to leave me a flying horse or an invisible plane. I have not nor will I ever forgive him.