“This is a job for Super Krod,” Lisa said as she handed me her beer. My friends know that I am a superhero, so it’s time I share the news with you. This probably comes as little surprise. Spiderman, for instance, took photos for a newspaper. So do I. Superman wrote for a newspaper. And, unless you’re absorbing this article by gleaning my mighty telekinetic brain, you’ve ascertained I write for a newspaper, too.
I don’t have super strength or X-ray vision (not yet, at least). I’m more of the Batman or Inspector Gadget-type of superhero. I have tools, man. For instance, at any given moment, I have the ability to open a beer bottle three different ways. When Lisa handed me her beer, I had to decide if I should open the bottle using my belt buckle, pocket knife or built-in opener on the brim of my hat. I chose the belt buckle, because this seems to impress the ladies.
As I handed Lisa the foaming beer, in unison we said, “That’s Super!”
“That’s Super!” is Super Krod’s catchphrase. All superheroes seem to have a catchphrase. It’s what sets us apart from mere mortals. Batman said, “Holy this” and “Holy that.” And Underdog said, “There’s no need to fear, Underdog is here.” Even Punky Brewster had “Punky Power.”
I have, “That’s Super!” It’s mine; please use it with care.
Now I know the “traditional” superhero has a secret identity, and it may seem strange to come out of the superhero closet. But, keep in mind, you’re thinking about “comic” book superheroes, not a real-life one like me. And, as the saying goes, “Starve a cold. Feed an ego.”
At first, I thought I just had the amazing ability to open beer bottles, but as more friends began to recognize me as Super Krod, I noticed my powers increased. It was a gradual growth. One night, I opened an entire 12-pack with few carpal tunnel aftereffects. It was on this night I decided to focus my superpowers to become a champion of cheapness and a demigod of delicious.
No sooner had I made this decision than I noticed the Lucha Libre to my Super Krod. I was driving down 4700 South and saw El Super Taco (4100 W. 4715 South). A building slightly larger than a phone booth had the audacity to call itself “Super.” In my Super Krod-mobile, I changed into my cape and swooped into El Super Taco. This is a job for Super Krod.
“What’s so super about El Super Taco?” I said. “‘That’s Super!’ is my catchphrase.”
Maria Gonzalez, working behind the counter, was a bit befuddled. Admittedly, it’s not everyday she meets a superhero. She said her $1.25 tacos were delicious. I said, “That’s Super! I’ll take two.”
Then came all of these choices as she rolled up and pressed each handmade tortilla shell and fried it on the grill. Did I want chicken, carne asada or tacos al pastor? What about fresh guacamole, hot sauce, radishes or jalapeños? I said, “For $1.25, I want it all.” Then I swooshed my cape, reached for my wallet and barely broke a five-dollar bill.
Three bites into my first taco, I turned to Maria and said, “That’s Super! I’d like two more tacos. This is my supper. Super!”
When I got home, I called Lisa and told her how Super Krod had descended upon El Super Taco. With my cape flowing in the air-conditioned breeze, I ordered up truth, justice, four tacos and a Mountain Dew.
Lisa said, “Phil, do you know why we call you ‘Super Krod’? Because ‘Krod’ is ‘dork’ spelled backwards.”
Feeling like I was sitting on Kryptonite, I said, “I didn’t know that. That’s not super.”