Free Spiderman 1 by Peter David Page B

Osborn, obviously waiting for him to say or do something. At that point, all he could manage was a nod and a forced smile. Then he glanced back over his shoulder at the armor and the glider, and instead of a foreign battlefield with enemy soldiers strewn around, he was pic turing sailing it over a ground littered with the bodies of Slocum, Stromm, and the entire board of directors.
    It gave him some momentary comfort.

    V.
    THE SIDE EFFECTS

    May Parker thought she was going to have a heart attack.
    She had just walked into the living room to discover her brilliant husband standing precariously on a chair, stretching his arm as far as he could to try to change a light bulb in the overhead fixture. Ben was grunting, his full concentration on the job at hand. Pale sunlight was filtering through the just- vacuumed Venetian blinds, causing him to squint as the chair tilted ever so slightly on the carpeted floor.
    For a moment all May could think about was that he would fall forward, crack his head open, and blood would permanently stain her couch, making her wistful for the plastic coverings that they'd removed years ago to keep Peter happy. Then she decided she really had to reorder her prior ities and instead prevent Ben from getting himself killed.
    "Why aren't you using a ladder? You'll fall and break your neck," she admonished him. Indicating the bulb, she continued, "Wait for Peter to do that."
    Ben ignored her as he was wont to do. Instead, with a final triumphant twist, he got the bulb in and it illuminated. "God said let there be light," he intoned. "Voila. Seventy- five soft glowing watts of it."
    He started to step down off the chair, clutching the burned out bulb with one hand, and Aunt May stood just be hind him to break his fall should it come to that. Not that she'd do him all that much good; if he landed on her he'd likely kill her. But she felt as if she had to do something.
    "Good boy," she said sarcastically. "God'll be thrilled. Just don't fall on your ass."
    The moment his foot was on solid ground, she headed into the kitchen to continue preparing dinner. As she went about doing so, Ben called after her, "I'm already on my ass. When the plant senior electrician is laid off after thirty-five years, what else would you call it? Of course I'm on my ass!"
    She'd heard him rant about it so much that she was able to mouth it along with him. Standing at the stove, she checked on water that was about to boil. Ben walked in be hind her, tossing the burned out bulb into the garbage can. Figuring her husband might as well make himself useful, May said, "Hand me the bowl. The green one."
    Ben picked up the requested kitchen implement and then went to the newspaper that was spread out on the table. He flipped to the classified section and shook his head dispiritedly. "Corporations firin' people left and right so they can have a few billion more. What do they know about standing on a stool, screwin' in a light bulb?"
    Standing around in pitch-blackness was beginning to sound preferable to listening to Ben carry on. "Ben, you'll get another job somewhere."
    "Well, let's see," Ben said with mock joviality, running his finger along the job notices. "Computer analyst, computer designer, computer engineer, computer ..." His point made, he let out a melancholy sigh. "I'm sixty-eight years old. I have to provide for my family."
    She hated to see him this way. So dispirited, so frustrated. Ben was of a generation that set a great deal of store by the ability of a husband to keep a roof over his loved ones' heads. The loss of his job had been an unmanning experi ence for him. Granted he wasn't a young man anymore, but Ben had a natural ebullience that belied his advanced years. That was missing now, consumed by doubt and self-pity.

    Turning the flame down under the pot, she stepped in be hind him, embraced him, and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you," she assured him. "And Peter loves you. You're the most responsible man I've