Free Less Than Hero by S.G. Browne

to wonder if you’d suffered a psychotic break.
    Characters in films who develop supernatural abilities don’t tend to spend a lot of time questioning their mental health. Or at least if they do, that footage gets edited out because it doesn’t test well with audiences.
    I wish I had an editor. Someone to cut out all of the bad parts of my life and just leave the bits that make me look good. While we’re at it, I could use a good musical score, too. Something fun and playful, like the soundtrack from Pulp Fiction . Or The Blues Brothers . But since I don’t have a twenty-four-hour DJ and I’m stuck with the uncut version of my life, I just have to try to figure out what the hell is going on and hope I haven’t been dosed with LSD or become delusional.
    The rational part of me realizes I couldn’t possibly have anything to do with what happened to the French girl on the Staten Island Ferry or the skateboarder in Central Park. Except the more I think about it, the more I wonder about the timing and my lips going numb and the uncompromising yawn that built up inside of me. Both the skate rat and the French girl seemed to fall asleep the moment I yawned, and immediately afterward I felt refreshed and reinvigorated.
    Sophie’s voice plays back in my head. She keeps waxing on about Buddhist philosophy and quantum mechanics, telling me how everything is connected to everything else in the universe and how a change in molecules here has repercussions and consequences there. A cosmic ripple effect of energy.
    Cause and effect.
    But it’s not just the effect of two people falling asleep that’s on my mind, along with the still-debatable idea that I may have caused their unexpected catnaps. It’s the effect of my lips going numb and what caused me to feel tired and yawn in the first place that has me wondering about my life choices.
    All sorts of prescription drugs can cause drowsiness. It’s acommon side effect and one I’ve experienced countless times. So while the idea is still something I’m not quite ready to embrace, I’m considering the possibility that all of these drugs I’ve tested over the past five years may have caused an unexpected and unusual effect.
    True, it’s only happened twice. And I remember reading that once is chance, twice is coincidence, and three times is a pattern. So I’m trying to see if there’s a pattern here or if I’m just borderline schizophrenic.
    “What are you doing?” Sophie asks.
    She asks me this from the bathroom doorway while I’m leaning forward, staring at myself in the mirror and pinching my lower lip to try to make it go numb. Not as bad as getting caught masturbating, but it’s still kind of awkward.
    To make things worse, I noticed a few strands of gray in my hair.
    I haven’t said anything to Sophie. Not about the gray hair. But she already wants me to stop volunteering for clinical trials. If I tell her I think the drugs I’ve been testing for the past five years have affected me to the point where I believe I’m making people fall asleep, she’ll make me stop for sure.
    The fact that Sophie’s reaction would be perfectly rational doesn’t factor into my decision making.
    “Just checking my gums,” I say, still holding on to my lower lip like I’m trying to keep it from flying away.
    “What’s wrong with your gums?”
    “Nothing. I was just making sure they looked healthy.”
    Sophie stands there in her Westerly Natural Market polo shirtand stares at me. For a moment, I think she knows I’m lying. Somehow her fairy powers allow her to see that my aura has changed from blue to red or orange or whatever color your aura turns when you’re manipulating the truth.
    “When was the last time you saw a dentist?” she asks.
    “I don’t know,” I say, both relieved and ashamed. “At least two or three years.”
    “You should make an appointment, Lollipop,” she says. “You need to take care of your teeth.”
    I know she’s right, but I hate going to