I'm in Vancouver, and Melissa Benoist, in costume as Supergirl, surprises me downtown by wrapping one arm around my shoulder, holding out her phone, and snapping a photo.
"Super selfie!" she says, grinning. "Hey, you should be on the show. You'd make a great Harvey Bullock."
I have to admit that of all DC's character's, my current rotund physique most closely matches that of Bullock. I'm a little confused, though; in the comics, Harvey Bullock is a detective working for the Gotham City Police Department. But I rationalize this by figuring Supergirl's writers have perhaps had Bullock transfer over to National City. In any event, the pay is $2000 a week and I get to be part of the Arrowverse, so I take the job.
* * *
It's 4 AM and Sylvia wakes me up. We're in our old condo. She reminds me that Sean, Mike and Scott are coming over for McDonald's. Sean has already arrived on the balcony on a rented bicycle glider, but I haven't actually picked up the food.
I join Sean on the balcony and we launch the glider, pedalling back offshore to Sean's yacht, picking up our McDonald's order, and cycle-gliding back to the condo. Scott and Mike arrive and we eat in the darkness, four identical orders: Big Mac combos, medium fries, medium Cokes. Mike notes with some disdain that there's a triangle of toast in his Big Mac. I check and see that my Big Mac also includes a slice of toast.
"Well, it's a bonus, I guess," I say, eating the toast.
Everything is so real as to be more convincing than true reality. Not for a second do I question the bicycle-gliders, Sean's yacht, or the fact that Sylvia and I have moved back into our first condo. The only thing I question is why I arranged for a McDonald's dinner at 4:45 AM.
Flying on the cycle-gliders is effortless and exhilarating. After supper, I fly over the beaches of Hawaii, shooting photos for Google Maps as I ride the wind. Turquoise waters lap at white sand, and the sun beams down benignly. All is good, but a voice at the back of my mind questions my sanity, and it is that voice that brings me back to reality, awakening with my alarm.
"Super selfie!" she says, grinning. "Hey, you should be on the show. You'd make a great Harvey Bullock."
I have to admit that of all DC's character's, my current rotund physique most closely matches that of Bullock. I'm a little confused, though; in the comics, Harvey Bullock is a detective working for the Gotham City Police Department. But I rationalize this by figuring Supergirl's writers have perhaps had Bullock transfer over to National City. In any event, the pay is $2000 a week and I get to be part of the Arrowverse, so I take the job.
* * *
It's 4 AM and Sylvia wakes me up. We're in our old condo. She reminds me that Sean, Mike and Scott are coming over for McDonald's. Sean has already arrived on the balcony on a rented bicycle glider, but I haven't actually picked up the food.
I join Sean on the balcony and we launch the glider, pedalling back offshore to Sean's yacht, picking up our McDonald's order, and cycle-gliding back to the condo. Scott and Mike arrive and we eat in the darkness, four identical orders: Big Mac combos, medium fries, medium Cokes. Mike notes with some disdain that there's a triangle of toast in his Big Mac. I check and see that my Big Mac also includes a slice of toast.
"Well, it's a bonus, I guess," I say, eating the toast.
Everything is so real as to be more convincing than true reality. Not for a second do I question the bicycle-gliders, Sean's yacht, or the fact that Sylvia and I have moved back into our first condo. The only thing I question is why I arranged for a McDonald's dinner at 4:45 AM.
Flying on the cycle-gliders is effortless and exhilarating. After supper, I fly over the beaches of Hawaii, shooting photos for Google Maps as I ride the wind. Turquoise waters lap at white sand, and the sun beams down benignly. All is good, but a voice at the back of my mind questions my sanity, and it is that voice that brings me back to reality, awakening with my alarm.
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