I wrote this piece as fan fiction of Dionne Lister's script writing exercise.
An old, stooped man, wearing brown pants and a white cape reaches for the gallon of Vitamin D Milk; the one with the red cap. His hand trembles and it slips. The carton explodes on the ground and he feels frustrated with his everyday life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. A young woman grasps his shoulder affectionately. He looks up to notice Wonder Woman holding what looks like a suitcase bulging with money. Every person in the old man’s town is a rich superhero. He isn’t young like them. He is in his late thirties and can only run at the slow speed of two-hundred miles per hour.
“I think your super strength is acting up again, Martin,” Wonder Woman tells him.
“I guess I’ll have to pay for it with one of these thousand-dollar bills I carry everywhere,” the old man replies. He hated living in poverty.
Checking his Rolex watch, he notices his chauffeur is running late. Baxter had better hurry up, or he would fire the driver, who was also a millionaire and only did menial labor as a hobby. The Lamborghini pulls up twenty seconds later than expected. Batman never had to put up with this shit.
“Where are we going today?” Baxter asks. The old man can’t hear him as Wonder Woman’s jet passes overhead, breaking the sound barrier.
“Where are we going today?” Asks Baxter again. The old man hears him and sighs to himself. “Nowhere special, Baxter, nowhere special…”