Crappy Superpowers

All hipster comic heroes have a superpower that isn’t good for much. My superpower? I know if I’ll be seeing someone in Hell. Like the driver of the Dodge Viper who worked very hard to gain one whole Geo Metro length in the traffic today; we’ll be companions in Hell.

But what does it mean, in the world of the living, to know that you’ll be seeing someone in Hell? Gives one a strange outlook on religion, to be sure, but you don’t need even the crappiest of supernatural talents for that. No, here’s what I want to know: Do I write down the license plate, look the guy up, and introduce myself hoping to somehow make him read No Exit? If we know that Hell is not only other people, but specific other people, can we ameliorate our fates?

The Mormons have this thing, or so I hear, where you spend eternity with your family as a reward for wearing the correct undergarments. Did Joseph Smith have my superpower?

Hell is other people, but then again, so is Heaven (if certain religious doctrines are to be taken seriously). With my superpower, I am placed at the crossroads of theology! I must resolve my existential angst by chatting with the most annoying people fate can find and pretending to enjoy their company. It’s a lot like working retail.