The Kryptonite Kid: A Novel

by Joseph Torchia

  “OK.”

  And then I told him how

  I was laying on the ground and my green cape was twisted all around my neck and my mom was crying. She was crying and screaming “WHY? WHY DID HE DO IT?” Veronica tried to hold her back, but she kept coming closer and closer. She kept looking at me and screaming to everybody, “Why? Oh God, WHY?" She held on to that question like a crucifix. And then I heard the siren.

  And then I woke up, Dr. Clark.

  There was sweat all over my forehead. I could feel it dripping in my eyes. Sister Madonna wasn’t around like she usually is. It was the middle of the night. I tried to call the nurse but I could hardly talk. My throat was real dry. There was nothing I could do. I lay there trapped inside my bandages. Pretty soon I fell asleep again. What else could I do? It was too dark to see the cracks. There was no one there to talk to. I closed my eyes and heard the siren.

  It kept getting louder and louder. And closer. There was a whole bunch of people around me, looking at me and making funny faces. My eyes were open and I could watch them. But I couldn’t hear them. All I could hear was the siren. It was right next to me. Then it stopped. They were picking me up and putting me in. Buster was standing right there watching. He wasn’t saying nothing. He looked like he was gonna throw up. He was even crying a little bit. But not as much as my mom. But quite a bit for Buster. Somebody said, “Be careful! Don’t hurt him!” I tried to tell them that it didn’t hurt, that I was numb, I couldn’t feel anything. But words wouldn’t come out. It felt like somebody was sitting on my throat. I could hardly open my mouth. So I didn’t. I watched them close the doors. They slammed them shut. The last word I heard belonged to my mom. “Why?” It got caught in the door. And then the siren.

  And then I woke up.

  Robert was sitting next to the bed, waiting for me. Sister Madonna was touching my cheek.

  “Your friend is here,” she said softly into my ear. “Come on, my child. He’s waiting.”

  She smiled her saintly smile, then helped Robert onto the bed beside me. That’s so he could look down at my face and I could see him. He isn’t too big either, you know. He’s the second shortest boy in the class. Aren’t you, Robert? So he looked down at my eyes and I looked up at his eyes and then he said, “Hi.”

  So I said, “Hi.”

  (And that’s all we said for a long time. We just looked at each other. He was wearing a uniform and he was carrying a gun. Thats what he told me. Said he might not be back. I laughed. "Sure you will” I said. He smiled. Then he said he loved me. Then he got mortared. Then I woke up.)

  “I really liked the comicbook,” I told him.

  “So did I.”

  “I thought the story about the gorilla was real good.” “Yeah.”

  Then he said:

  “You can keep it if you want.”

  Then I said:

  “Thanks, Robert.”

  Then we didn’t say anything for a while.

  You see, Superman, it was really hard to talk to him. Because I hadn’t seen him for a LONG time and so I didn’t know what to say. So many things have changed since I last saw him. You know, the fall and everything. It was almost as if we were strangers, meeting for the first time beneath a cracked ceiling. Except we weren’t really strangers because we knew we were gonna be friends because we used to be. And because we need to be. Isn’t that right, Robert?

  Then after a while Sister Madonna said she had to go pray but I think she had to go pee. Anyway she left. And me and Robert started talking a lot faster and he told me how EVERYBODY’S been talking about it. And Duane Machado said the reason I jumped was because I was trying to commit suicide just like you did way back when we was eating pork chops. Remember? And Jimmy Sinceri said he was GLAD I jumped. And Janie Jobb said that she was too but she’d never say it BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO. And Robert said he heard Sister Mary Justin whisper how there was a Devil in my body. And it pushed me off and tried to kill me so it could take me to HELL.

  But they’re all WRONG, Superman. Nobody knows why I REALLY did it. Not even Robert, who said he heard his mom talking to Veronica on the telephone about how my mom was losing weight. And about how she was going through Hell and they hope she don’t lose the baby. What they was talking about was my baby brother who will turn out to be my baby sister. If she makes it.

  And Robert said my mom NEVER goes out of the house except when she has to go to the hospital or church. And she always goes to the early Mass because it’s at 6 o’clock in the morning and so there’s hardly anybody there. Because one time I went when my brother Buster was starting to be a altarboy. And so he had to work the early shift because he was a new altarboy and all the older altarboys didn’t like getting up so early. And neither did I. But my mom said I had to. And Buster was pretty good except one time he sneezed when he was supposed to say Amen. And so I laughed and my mom hit me. And another time he was going up the altarsteps when he dropped some incense on the priest’s foot. So he bent down to pick it up and the priest started to genuflect and he knocked Buster down the steps. It wouldn’t have been too bad except he landed on the other altarboy who was holding a candle. And the wax fell on Buster’s neck and he yelled REAL loud and jumped up and knocked over the statue of Saint Dominic. And the head of Saint Dominic broke off and rolled down the aisle and landed near the fourth pew. And the nose broke off also. It landed near the seventh pew where Mary Louise was sitting. She looked down at it. I heard a siren.

  I woke up.

  Robert was still beside me on the bed. The room was dark. The nurse was gone. I heard something rattling down the hallway. Robert held me closer. Then he started whispering in my ear.

  “You said something when you jumped,” he said. “I heard you say something. You were laying on the ground and you were mumbling and everybody was standing around but nobody could understand. Nobody knew what you were saying, what you were trying to do. Except for me, Jerry. I’m your bestfriend. I knew. But I didn’t tell anybody. I stood there looking at your face. It was twisted way back and there was blood in your hair. But your eyes were open and you were awake. You weren’t dreaming. You kept looking at your mom who was crying. You kept saying that one word over and over—that one word nobody could understand. Not even Veronica nextdoor. HE’S DELERIOUS, she said. HE’S NOT SAYING ANYTHING. But she was wrong, as usual. I knew what you were saying, Jerry. I understood what you were trying to do when you looked up so helplessly and said

  !kltpzyxM

  “And then you heard a siren.”

  “Is that all you can remember?” Dr. Clark asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, that’s all.”

  “Do you know what it means, Jerry? This word—what is it?—Kilipzim or Kilpitzim or . . .”

  !kltpzyxM I said. “It’s !kltpzyxM—accent on the second syllable.”

  “Yes, !kltpzyxM . . . Would you mind spelling that for me?”

  “Sure, it’s ! k 1 t p z y . . .”

  And then I stopped.

  And then I looked at Dr. Clark.

  And then I said: “Hey, you’re not trying to trick me, are you?”

  “Trick you?”

  “YES! You’re trying to make me spell my name backwords! You’re trying to send me to The Fifth Dimension!”

  “What are you talking about?” the doctor asked, and a look of panic spread across his face. He pressed the buzzer beside my bed.

  “YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” I said much louder, almost shouting. “You’re trying to trick me! You’re not really a doctor! You’re pretending! That’s why you don’t give shots! This whole thing’s just an act. You’re trying to get rid of me. You’re not a doctor! You’re SUPERMAN!”

  He froze.

  He put down his pen.

  He looked me right in the eyes, then took off his glasses.

  “You’ve figured me out this time,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt.

  I gave him one of my impish smiles.

  “Don’t worry,
Mr. Mxyzptlk! I’ll get you yet!” he said, unzipping his fly and pulling off his pants. He stood there beside my bed in full uniform. He reached across my fragile body and opened the window. “I’ll get you yet!” he shouted, then leaped out the window, into the air, sucking the curtains behind him. He left me there alone, with my bandages.

  “I’LL GET YOU YET, MR. MXYZPTLK!” he shouted behind him.

  Suddenly there were three nurses around my bed. Dr. Clark was shouting orders to them, but I couldn’t hear. There was this noise in my ears, like a siren. I couldn’t breathe too good. I saw a needle flash before my eyes, then I felt it going into my neck. Deep into my neck. The last thing I heard was my mom’s voice. “WHY?” it asked. And then the doors slammed.

  And then I woke up.

  Robert was still beside me, writing this letter. But then Sister Madonna came in and told him it’s time to go young man. And that’s why we have to stop write here, Superman. Because Sister Madonna’s waiting. Time’s up. But Robert will be back tomorrow and we’ll write you another letter then. So don’t worry.

  Goodbye.

  Your friends,

  JERRY and ROBERT

  OK, Robert, are you ready? DEAR SUPERMAN,

  How are you? I am fine thank you. Considering the circumstances. Robert is pretty good too. He just got here a few minutes ago and we decided to write you a letter RIGHT away. This way we might finish it before Sister Madonna comes back. Which is why I told Robert he better write faster this time—huh, Robert? Isn’t that right, Robert? Robert, are you there?

  Robert?

  Yoo-hooooo, Robert!

  (Or are you in some other dimension?)

  What can I do, Superman? He keeps writing' down EVERYTHING I say. HEY, ROBERT! RooooooBERT! See? Nothing works. Damn!

  HEY, you with the freckles all over your cheeks! You with the pen in your hand! Hey, Robert—I know something you don’t know.

  I know when you’re gonna DIE, Robert! I DO! I saw it in a dream and I’m gonna tell you if you don’t stop write now! Do you hear?

  Christ, Superman, if I could only get out of these bandages. If I could only reach out and take that pen away. But I can’t move. I’m trapped!

  OK, Robert, this is your last chance. If you don’t stop pretty soon it’s ALL gonna be over. EVERYTHING!

  Don’t you see, Robert? You’re gonna die as soon as they catch us.

  As soon as they arm you with guilt.

  So you better stop NOW. Please, Robert . . . Please stop . . . ROBERT! I don’t want you to die.

  (I don’t want you to get mortared.)

  Please, Robert . . . Oh, God. Robert. Oh Jesus, Robert, that feels good. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, my God, Robert! Faster!

  FASTER! Oh, Robert! Oh..... Oh. Robert! Oh.....

  OhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

  DEAR SUPERMAN,

  Now where were we? Oh, yes! I wanted to tell you about how I felt like a gorilla trapped on top of a big building Like King Kong.

  Except I was a person and not a gorilla like Titano. And I was wearing a cape. Gorillas don’t usually wear capes. But I was. But still I felt like a gorilla—like Mighty Joe Young, if that’s possible. Which it is because EVERYBODY down below was running around and screaming and pointing up at me.

  And my mom was yelling GODDAMNIT, JERRY, GET DOWN HERE!

  And my dad ran inside the house and so I KNEW he was coming up on the roof and I had to do it quick. I heard Buster say, AWW, HE’S CHICKEN ANYWAY! and Veronica said real loud like she always does, MYGOD! THAT BOY’S CRAZY! There was more commotion than you could imagine, Superman! EVERYBODY was doing something— yelling something!

  I heard my dad’s feet pounding up the steps, getting nearer.

  They stomped, they yelled, they screamed at me. They kept coming at me from every direction—like airplanes!— trying to knock me off! The WHOLE neighborhood was there. Everybody was watching. And laughing. And pointing. EVERYBODY!

  And right in the middle of them all was ROBERT! Only he wasn’t yelling or anything. He was just looking up at me, and smiling. I saw his teeth sparkle in the sunlight. I saw his blue eyes shining like halos. He looked so innocent, so calm—like a tree on a battlefield. I smiled back. I looked down. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  I heard my dad’s footsteps climbing up on the roof, rushing toward me. Quickly! Urgently!

  My mom yelled BE CAREFUL!

  Everybody down below was allofasudden quiet. Watching. Waiting. I looked down at them ALL! I looked at Robert again. I saw his smile. I smiled BIGGER. I felt my dad’s fingertips reaching out. I heard my mom yell OH MY GOD! MY GOD! And then it happened.

  I woke up. Dr. Clark was sitting on the chair beside my bed.

  “But there must be more!” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I always wake up. I never hit the ground. It’s always the same, Dr. Clark.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure.”

  “But wasn’t there something else?” he said. “Didn’t you say something about a midget or something? I’m sure you did.”

  “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

  “Surely you remember,” he said. “Something about— ah, here it is! The name is Mr. Mxyzptkl! I believe. Am I pronouncing that correctly?”

  “It’s close enough.”

  “Well, according to you,” he said, turning a page, “this Mxyzptlk! character is a white male, about 33 years old, with ...”

  “That’s inches.”

  “What?”

  “He’s 33 inches high. I don’t know how old he is.”

  “I see. Thank you. . . . About 33 inches high, with red hair and a funny purple hat. Comes from a place called The Fifth Dimension, which we can’t seem to locate at the moment. Both of his parents are confirmed imps. And not only are they confirmed, but they also received their First Holy Communion. No one seems to know his first name, and no one seems to be able to pronounce his last. He’s a slippery character. Sometimes goes by the name of !kltpzyxM when he wants to make a quick getaway. Seems to have a fetish about making Superman unhappy or something?”

  “Miserable,” I said. “He wants to make Superman miserable.”

  “Yes, miserable. How do you spell that?”

  “Ms. erable,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s it. Thank you. Well now, according to what you said, this Mxyzptlk character ...”

  “You forgot the exclamation point.”

  “Oh. Sorry . . . This Mxyzptlk! character has a thing about spelling his name backwords. Says it can make him disappear, is that right?”

  “That’s it.”

  “But why does he want to disappear?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t WANT to—he HAS to. Whenever he gets tricked.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “It’s really easy,” I said. “You see, Mr. Mxyzptlk! lives in this place called The Fifth Dimension and ...”

  “Yes, The Fifth Dimension. I like that. It’s got a nice ring to it. The Fifth Dimension. Where is it, can you tell me?” “Sure. It’s where nobody has any cars and everybody’s a imp, and so if you want to go somewhere all you have to do is say your name backwords. And if you don’t want to go anywhere you don’t. That’s why you have to trick him.” “Hmmmm,” he said. “I think you misunderstood my question.”

  “I usually do.”

  “What I meant was: Where is The Fifth Dimension? Is it outside Cincinnati, Ohio? Or is it near the Duck Rock? Or is it in Vietnam?”

  “Oh!” I said. “You mean, where is it located?”

  “Yes! That’s it! Where is it exactly?”

  “It’s exactly between The Fourth Dimension and The Sixth Dimension.”

  “Hmmmmmm,” he said again, looking at me for a long time. And then he said:

  “What’s a dimension, Jerry?”

  “A dimension is what you live in.”

  “How many dimensions are there?”

  “Thousands.”
r />   “Name some.”

  “Sure. Let’s start with The Zero Dimension. That’s God. And The First Dimension is angels and The Second Dimension is comicbooks. The Third Dimension is Hell, I’m certain of it. The Fourth Dimension is poetry and The Fifth Dimension is imps. I don’t know what’s in The Sixth Dimension, but The Seventh Dimension is pork chops and The Eighth Dimension is . . .”

  “Thank you, Jerry.”

  “You’re welcome, Dr. Clark.”

  “Can I ask you something, Jerry?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Why did you pick The Fifth Dimension when you jumped?”

  “You mean when I found out I couldn’t fly.”

  “Yes. Why did you try to disappear to The Fifth Dimension? Why not, say, The Sixth Dimension, or The Seventh Dimension?”

  “I already told you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I didn’t know what was in The Sixth Dimension and I’d rather be with the imps than the pork chops.”

  “I see,” he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. And then I said:

  ‘‘I don’t think you can see ANYTHING, Dr. Clark! You keep looking at ME—at my face, at my bandages. You keep asking what does THIS mean? What does THAT mean?

  “I want you to have X-ray Vision, Dr. Clark!

  “I want you to look INSIDE me. Can you see it? It’s the answer to EVERYTHING I am! It’s my mom and my dad and Buster and Veronica and Sister Mary Justin and Robert and his smile, his perfect smile, looking up at me, at my cape, at my dad, on the roof, reaching out . . .

  “BLAME THEM! They’re ALL inside me, Dr. Clark, trapped like words on a page ...”

  (Look around some more, Dr. Clark. Crawl inside my bones. Flow inside my veins. Can you see it? It's the answer to EVERYTHING I am! Ii's Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen and Perry White and Krypto and Mr. Mxyzptlk! And Superman, of course. Theyre ALL there, Dr. Clark! They're all REAL, too! They keep appearing out of nowhere, like keys from a typewriter, one after another . . . )