Captain America

As I walked up my front sidewalk last night, I carried my backpack filled with my school books that were as heavy as my head filled with Dayquil and thoughts of the seven more pages needed for my term paper. My head cold had moved into my chest and as my class let out so did my lungs.

As I moved like a zombie up my sidewalk I encountered a ten-year-old Captain America. He had obviously attempted to claim his reward for looking so damn cute by asking for Kit-Kat donations from my front door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have any candy for you this year.” I shrugged my shoulders as the mini-Captain of all that is right in America tilted his head, not buying my story. “See… I had to go to school with a cold… and I have a really hard homework.” Suddenly I started in telling Captain America why I failed to have the proper tariff of candy. “ See… I have really hard homework, and I start a new job on Monday…and...”

Captain America’s Mom, Mom America, was down the sidewalk and didn’t hear me whine about how hard my life seems. Nor did she see what happened next. Captain America reached into his loot bag and pulled out a full sized Snickers bar and handed it to me.  Just like a true hero, he called out “I hope you feel better!” as he ran down the street.

And that’s how Captain America saved my life.