Poem: "Up a Creek Without a Paddle"
This poem is spillover from the February 6, 2024 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired and sponsored by Dreamwidth user Fuzzyred. It also fills the "chocolates" square in my 2-1-24 card for the Valentines Bingo fest. This poem belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It is being posted in sections on a layaway plan.
Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the more detailed warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes references to past child abuse and neglect, aftermath of mad science torture, a superhero barging in and causing problems, intimidation of a young teen, rude language, aggressive use of superpowers, chronic hunger, survival theft, politics and legalities, delicious food that you may not be able to find or make, reference to prison, shame and poverty, earthquake refugees and consequent social upheavals, poor self-image, reference to foster care abuses, emotional tension, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"Up a Creek Without a Paddle"
[Wednesday, September 7, 2016]
Shiv finished shopping at
the Omaha Farmer's Market in
the Charles Drew Health Center.
He dropped off bushels of produce
for Blues Moon at the restaurant and
stashed his own haul in his apartment.
Then he headed to the Omaha Reservation.
He had found a vendor with African pumpkins
in all different shapes and colors, along with
someone selling Glass Gem corn, so he
had stocked up on both of those to share.
Wilma Many Corn was thrilled to see him.
She got Orla and the Little Tortoise Lodge
busy cleaning corn and cutting pumpkins
into chunks for stew in big outdoor kettles
or into halves for stuffing and roasting.
Shiv was showing Tommy how
to use a shuckin' peg when
another skeleton appeared
at the back of the crowd.
Most of the time, Shiv didn't
pay too much attention to all of
the skeletons around him, but
he could still feel the bone with
his superpower, and having one
suddenly appear was distracting.
Craning his neck, he spotted
a new kid with furry stripes
on his face and loose clothes
that had seen better days.
Since the boy wasn't bothering
anyone or stirring trouble with
a stick, Shiv ignored him.
He had his hands full
teaching Tommy how
to remove corn shucks
without flinging them
all over everywhere.
Then someone dropped
down right out of the sky.
He was tall and tough-looking,
with tinted skin and black hair.
He wore a black krevel cape
and ... no wait, the top under it
was also black krevel but below
he had on indigo jeans and shoes
of ordinary tan leather that really
did not go with his other clothes.
Shiv had to suppress a snicker
at the awkward look it created.
However, it meant that either
the man was on the way up and
assembling his uniform as he could
afford it -- since krevel wasn't cheap --
or he used to have a complete one
but had lost parts of it somehow and
hadn't managed to replace them yet.
In either case, he was new in the area
because Shiv hadn't heard of him,
and that might mean trouble.
Just seeing a big stranger
looming over them spooked
kids from Little Tortoise Lodge.
Shiv jumped up, pushing Tommy
behind him, and made like a wall.
He flicked a back-off signal
with one hand, but the guy
didn't respond to Mob code.
He tried a Kraken sign,
and that didn't work either.
So whoever this guy was,
he wasn't Connected, at least
not with the folks that Shiv knew --
and not the ones he was dressing like.
"Get lost," Shiv said. "You don't
belong here and nobody wants you."
"Not until I get what I came for,"
the man said. "I'm here on
business. I'm hunting a thief."
He ignored the Little Tortoise kids
and turned on the rest of the crowd.
He shoved his way through and
grabbed hold of the furry boy,
jerking a bag away from him.
His young victim screamed,
a high squeal like a rabbit.
"Fuck this shit," Shiv said.
He reached out and gripped
the zippers, rivets, and grommets
all over the offender's outfit.
Then Shiv yanked and
flipped him upside-down.
Wilma and Orla swept
the furry boy into their arms
and ushered him to safety.
The man squawked and flailed,
flopping in the air like a hooked fish.
He tried pulling away, probably
with Flight or something like it,
but that just ground his zipper
into his crotch even worse.
Only when he hung limp in
Shiv's grasp did the supervillain
drop him back onto his feet.
"The fuck you think you are,
coming here like that?" Shiv said.
"I told you to git, so you git."
"My name is Adriano Stark,"
he said. "I'm a superhero.
I work as a spotter and
sometimes as security. I
have been hired to watch for
petty crime because America
is such a mess after the Big One."
"You're not in America, dipshit,"
Shiv said as he rolled his eyes.
"Of course I am," said Adriano.
"This is Nebraska, north of Omaha.
The thief stole things there, so I'll
take him back to their police station."
"Nope, this is the Umoⁿhoⁿ Nation,"
Shiv said, giving it the tribal pronunciation
Then he smirked. "Or to put it another way --
you are up a creek without a paddle."
All the Omaha folks burst out laughing.
"What does that have to do with
anything?" Adriano snapped.
"Well, this sovereign nation
doesn't have an extradition treaty
with the United States of America,"
Shiv said. "That's important."
"So you're a lawyer?"
Adriano said, glaring.
Shiv snorted. "No, but I
know some interesting ones,
and I listen when they talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Adriano crossed his arms.
"It means that you want the boy,
but the Omaha folks don't have
to give him up, and so you are
shit out of luck," said Shiv.
The superhero flexed his fists.
"Oh, please," Shiv drawled.
"Just give me a reason."
Sadly, he didn't get a chance
to give that guy a whacking.
Wilma Many Corn came
boiling up, waving a spoon.
"Bad boy!" she scolded,
advancing on Adriano.
"You get out of here!"
"I have every right --"
He reached for the bag
that he'd taken from the boy.
Wilma smacked his hand
with her spoon, hard enough
to make him yelp and jerk back.
He looked shocked, clutching
his hand. Maybe she'd broken it.
"But -- but I'm a tough guy!"
Adriano protested.
Wilma cackled. "Oh,
you're not as tough
as you think you are."
Shiv stepped aside
and let her have a turn
dealing with that guy.
He wanted to see
about the victim now.
Shiv picked up the bag --
it didn't feel very heavy --
and looked around for him.
Orla had him sitting on a bench,
stuffing himself with what smelled
like Three Sisters something-or-other
probably fetched from a friend's kitchen.
"Hi, folks," Shiv said, waving toward
the open end of the bench. "Do you
mind if I join you for a little bit?"
"Have a seat," Orla said, beckoning.
"Little Lynx, this is Chip, who has
chipmunk medicine and is also
a city Indian. Chip, Little Lynx is
an ally from Omaha City. There
he goes by the name Shiv."
Chip looked up, fuzzy cheeks
bulging with food. He swallowed,
then said, "Hi. Sorry to bother you."
"You're not the bother," Shiv said.
"Besides, I got a kick out of seeing
Wilma lay into that jackass."
Chip giggled. His voice
really did sound high,
and he was smaller than
Shiv had realized at first.
The kid couldn't be more
than fourteen or fifteen.
Well, that complicated
matters considerably.
At least Shiv had an idea
how to handle that, since
he had worked as a spotter
at the Omaha transit hubs.
Plenty of runaways came
through -- even more after
the Big One -- but the gang
only kept the ones who didn't
have any better prospects.
"So ... am I in trouble?"
Chip whispered, whiskers
twitching under his black nose.
"Well, I don't really think that
you are --" Shiv began.
"No, you are not in
trouble," Orla said firmly.
Okay, that settled that.
"Orla knows what she's
talking about," said Shiv.
"Wanna tell me what's up?"
Chip shook his head and
tucked into his food again.
"All right then, let's see
what this is," Shiv said,
and opened the bag.
It was full of food.
There wasn't a lot,
but all of it looked like
good, high-nutrient stuff.
Shiv pulled out two avocados,
a half-pound wedge of Asiago,
a bag of chili candied macadamias,
another of maple candied salmon, and
a squeezy tube of superfood tapenade.
Then there were three different bags
from the same place, Fort Chocolate.
One held something that looked
like nut clusters but the label said
dried blueberries and claimed
to be fortified with vitamins.
The bag of chocolate truffles
advertised assorted flavors and
was spiked with adaptogens.
Who put mushrooms in candy?
But there it was on the label, and
Shiv wondered if it was any good.
The chocolate-covered coconut eggs
advertised different superfood powders,
with the flavor indicated by the colors in
bright shades of pink, purple, and blue.
Some were lumps of colored coconut
with plain chocolate drizzle, while others
were completely coated in chocolate
with streaks or dots of colored icing.
"Fort Chocolate, huh?" Shiv said. "I
don't recognize the place. Any good?"
Chip nodded. "They're new," he said.
"I heard they came from out west."
Ah yeah, there were a lot of refugees
setting up in Omaha now, attempting
to restart businesses that had been
shattered by the earthquake.
Shiv still hadn't found them all,
even though he regularly patrolled
each of the farmer's markets in town,
probably because new ones kept
popping up every week or few.
"I'll have to check 'em out, these
look good," Shiv said. "So, tell me
straight -- did you take without paying?"
Chip nodded, hunching into himself.
"What for?" Shiv said. "Farmers
and cooks gotta make a living too."
"Cause I'm hungry!" Chip wailed.
"I'm just so hungry, all of the time.
I eat at the soup lines as much as I
can, but most only give one meal a day."
Shiv looked down at the little pile that
probably held enough calories to fill
a whole day for an ordinary person,
but half that or less for anyone
with a high-burn metabolism.
"How much do you typically eat,
somewhere you can eat as much
as you want?" Shiv asked him.
"Dunno," Chip said. "Never
been anywhere like that."
"Okay, first look for a sticker
of a cricket, it means that they
offer big portions or all-you-can-eat,"
Shiv said. "Second, I noticed that
you appeared real sudden-like here.
Are you a teleporter, or what?"
"Sort of," Chip said. "I mean,
I can skip around quite a bit when
it's short range, but I can't just pop
across the world like a real teleporter.
I can only make little jumps. Even
when I string them together, it only
gets me a few counties away."
"If you can teleport, then you are
a real teleporter," said Shiv. "I don't
care what bull somebody else fed you,
range is just a number. Teleporting
is one of the superpowers that
tends to burn calories like crazy.
Plus some primal soups need
different nutrients than naries do."
"That's why I'm always hungry?"
Chip said. "I didn't really know."
"Yeah, probably," said Shiv.
"At least, I've never known
a teleporter who wasn't, and
I know kind of a lot of them."
He remembered the time that
Pavo threw a screaming fit over
someone stealing his fudge at
an art party, and Pavo could
buy as much food as he wanted.
"That still doesn't excuse him
for stealing," Adriano muttered
as he trudged over to them.
"Never you mind that," Wilma said,
flapping a hand as if shooing away flies.
"The Omaha Nation will send someone
to make peace with the cooks and farmers."
"Yeah, that's good," Shiv agreed. "We
all gotta eat, can't afford to piss 'em off."
"Cooks and farmers are important,"
said Orla. "We take care of each other."
"That is not how crime and punishment
are supposed to work," Adriano complained.
"It is here," said Shiv. "The Omaha people
prefer restorative justice -- and before you
bitch about that too, their recidivism rate
is way lower than the prison system."
Then he glanced at Chip. "Though
if it comes to that, prison changed
my whole life. If you ever wind up
in a Nebraska one, use my name,
and the guys will look out for you."
"Thanks," Chip whispered. "That
makes jail seem a little less terrifying."
"He should go to jail, because he
keeps stealing things," said Adriano.
"You have to pay for the things you want."
Superheroes were so damn stuffy about
everything, and they tended to have
a serious shortage of lived experience
regarding the rougher challenges in life.
"Yeah, see, this isn't a capitalist economy,"
Shiv said, riffing a lecture he'd heard at
the giveaways. "This is a gift economy,
and if someone doesn't have enough,
then that shames the whole tribe, not
the poor person. So we make sure
that everyone's got enough to eat,
because they have a right to that. If
you have a right to food, it's not stealing."
Inevitably, Tommy started humming
"Green Frog Skins" to the tune of
"Three Blind Mice" but everybody
could guess which lyrics he meant.
"Okay, I guess, but --" Adriano sputtered.
"How much do you know about soups
and food?" Shiv said, glaring at him.
"I minored in Health and Wellness,
so I took a nutrition class for that,"
said Adriano. "I've never had trouble."
Shiv sighed. "Then your superpowers
probably don't run on calories," he said.
He pulled out his cert wallet and freed
a business card for Soup to Nuts. "Here,
call this number and get some information
about how much high-burn folks should eat."
"It's really that big a deal?" Adriano said
as he frowned at the card in his hand.
"This seemed pretty straightforward."
"When I was little, even before I actually
souped up, I was always, always hungry,"
Shiv said. "So I learned to eat the stuff
that nobody else liked, because then
it meant that I got some. Later on, I
found out that I need more calories than
naries do, even if I'm not working hard."
Up until the last few years, he had
probably snuck or otherwise stolen
more food than he was actually given.
"I didn't realize it was that much of
an issue," said Adriano. "I was
just trying to do my job today."
"Yeah well, at least you're not
that dick Stalwart Stan," said Shiv.
"He's a real pain in the ass."
"Someone you know personally,
a local superhero?" said Adriano.
"Yeah, he and Antimatter patrol
around the Gene Leahy Mall in
downtown Omaha," said Shiv.
"I know most of the locals, or I
did before things got shook up."
Adriano looked glum. "Yeah,
everything's a real mess now."
"Then fucking listen to me, 'cause
I'm local and you're not," Shiv said.
"Otherwise my Boss will kick your ass."
Adriano bristled at that, but didn't
actually try to argue with him again.
Shiv returned his attention to Chip,
who had curled up against Orla.
"Do you have a soup mentor?"
he asked. "Another teleporter
who can show you the ropes?"
Chip shook his head. "I don't
have anyone at all, really."
"You try asking at SPOON?"
Shiv said. "They can set it up."
"No, they kinda scare me,"
he admitted. "SPOON is all --"
He made a pushing, tumbling
gesture with both hands.
"Yeah, they can be, but
The Teleport is smooth,"
said Shiv. "Not all of them
are affiliated with SPOON."
"I don't know any of them
either, though," said Chip.
"That's okay," said Shiv. "I'm
friends with The Teleport. If I
ask, they'll send someone over
to find out what you actually need."
"He needs food, shelter, and clothing
like any growing boy," said Orla. "He
belongs to the Omaha Nation, so
the tribe will provide for him."
"Warshirt may be a naughty boy,
but he is right about how we should
take better care of the people who have
totem powers that show on their skin,
now the animal spirits are sending
more of them to us," said Wilma.
"So we are happy to help Chip."
"Okay, that's all great," said Shiv,
"but what about teaching him how
to use his superpowers? You gals
got a teleporter up your sleeve?"
"No, probably not," she admitted.
"That gift is not common in the tribes.
We should be able to find someone
with chipmunk medicine, though."
"What about both?" Chip said softly.
"Could I maybe have one of each?"
"That's not a bad idea," said Shiv.
"You need all your powers trained
so they don't run you into the ground."
"Can you really find people willing
to work with someone ..." Chip waved
a hand at his face. "... this messed up?"
"Anyone with totem gifts would be
honored to work with someone
who has such strong medicine,"
Orla assured him. "It's no problem."
"You don't think I'm a freak?"
Chip said, self-consciously
brushing the fur on his cheeks.
"Nah," said Shiv. "I'm used to it.
I'm friends with a capybara."
"A what?" Chip said, blinking.
"Fred looks ... hmm, kinda like
a giant muskrat," Shiv said.
"Everyone loves capybaras."
"That sounds pretty cute,"
Chip said. "It must be nice.
I just look weird, so I have
to wear clothes that hide it, but
I lost my hoodie somewhere."
"We'll find you another one
if you want, but you don't have
to hide yourself here," Orla said.
"Too many primal soups hide,"
said Shiv. "I know some, and I
know that they're actually among
the most common manifestations.
You hardly see any, though, because
so many people are horrible to them."
"We're trying to change that here,"
said Orla. "Tribal folks know better."
"It's strange being back," said Chip.
"I think I might've come here when I
was really little, but then I wound up
in foster care. They sent me to ...
some pretty shit places. Once I got
loose, I headed for familiar territory."
Shiv handed him a Soup to Nuts card.
"Talk to these folks," he said. "They'll be
thrilled to stomp Family Services. Again.
If the fuckwits who hurt you aren't already
in jail for messing with somebody else."
"That'd be nice," Chip said, tucking
the card in a pocket. "I'm glad
to be back, but I don't know
whether I can fit in here."
"Look on the bright side,"
said Shiv. "At least you're
not up a creek without a paddle."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.
Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the more detailed warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes references to past child abuse and neglect, aftermath of mad science torture, a superhero barging in and causing problems, intimidation of a young teen, rude language, aggressive use of superpowers, chronic hunger, survival theft, politics and legalities, delicious food that you may not be able to find or make, reference to prison, shame and poverty, earthquake refugees and consequent social upheavals, poor self-image, reference to foster care abuses, emotional tension, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"Up a Creek Without a Paddle"
[Wednesday, September 7, 2016]
Shiv finished shopping at
the Omaha Farmer's Market in
the Charles Drew Health Center.
He dropped off bushels of produce
for Blues Moon at the restaurant and
stashed his own haul in his apartment.
Then he headed to the Omaha Reservation.
He had found a vendor with African pumpkins
in all different shapes and colors, along with
someone selling Glass Gem corn, so he
had stocked up on both of those to share.
Wilma Many Corn was thrilled to see him.
She got Orla and the Little Tortoise Lodge
busy cleaning corn and cutting pumpkins
into chunks for stew in big outdoor kettles
or into halves for stuffing and roasting.
Shiv was showing Tommy how
to use a shuckin' peg when
another skeleton appeared
at the back of the crowd.
Most of the time, Shiv didn't
pay too much attention to all of
the skeletons around him, but
he could still feel the bone with
his superpower, and having one
suddenly appear was distracting.
Craning his neck, he spotted
a new kid with furry stripes
on his face and loose clothes
that had seen better days.
Since the boy wasn't bothering
anyone or stirring trouble with
a stick, Shiv ignored him.
He had his hands full
teaching Tommy how
to remove corn shucks
without flinging them
all over everywhere.
Then someone dropped
down right out of the sky.
He was tall and tough-looking,
with tinted skin and black hair.
He wore a black krevel cape
and ... no wait, the top under it
was also black krevel but below
he had on indigo jeans and shoes
of ordinary tan leather that really
did not go with his other clothes.
Shiv had to suppress a snicker
at the awkward look it created.
However, it meant that either
the man was on the way up and
assembling his uniform as he could
afford it -- since krevel wasn't cheap --
or he used to have a complete one
but had lost parts of it somehow and
hadn't managed to replace them yet.
In either case, he was new in the area
because Shiv hadn't heard of him,
and that might mean trouble.
Just seeing a big stranger
looming over them spooked
kids from Little Tortoise Lodge.
Shiv jumped up, pushing Tommy
behind him, and made like a wall.
He flicked a back-off signal
with one hand, but the guy
didn't respond to Mob code.
He tried a Kraken sign,
and that didn't work either.
So whoever this guy was,
he wasn't Connected, at least
not with the folks that Shiv knew --
and not the ones he was dressing like.
"Get lost," Shiv said. "You don't
belong here and nobody wants you."
"Not until I get what I came for,"
the man said. "I'm here on
business. I'm hunting a thief."
He ignored the Little Tortoise kids
and turned on the rest of the crowd.
He shoved his way through and
grabbed hold of the furry boy,
jerking a bag away from him.
His young victim screamed,
a high squeal like a rabbit.
"Fuck this shit," Shiv said.
He reached out and gripped
the zippers, rivets, and grommets
all over the offender's outfit.
Then Shiv yanked and
flipped him upside-down.
Wilma and Orla swept
the furry boy into their arms
and ushered him to safety.
The man squawked and flailed,
flopping in the air like a hooked fish.
He tried pulling away, probably
with Flight or something like it,
but that just ground his zipper
into his crotch even worse.
Only when he hung limp in
Shiv's grasp did the supervillain
drop him back onto his feet.
"The fuck you think you are,
coming here like that?" Shiv said.
"I told you to git, so you git."
"My name is Adriano Stark,"
he said. "I'm a superhero.
I work as a spotter and
sometimes as security. I
have been hired to watch for
petty crime because America
is such a mess after the Big One."
"You're not in America, dipshit,"
Shiv said as he rolled his eyes.
"Of course I am," said Adriano.
"This is Nebraska, north of Omaha.
The thief stole things there, so I'll
take him back to their police station."
"Nope, this is the Umoⁿhoⁿ Nation,"
Shiv said, giving it the tribal pronunciation
Then he smirked. "Or to put it another way --
you are up a creek without a paddle."
All the Omaha folks burst out laughing.
"What does that have to do with
anything?" Adriano snapped.
"Well, this sovereign nation
doesn't have an extradition treaty
with the United States of America,"
Shiv said. "That's important."
"So you're a lawyer?"
Adriano said, glaring.
Shiv snorted. "No, but I
know some interesting ones,
and I listen when they talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Adriano crossed his arms.
"It means that you want the boy,
but the Omaha folks don't have
to give him up, and so you are
shit out of luck," said Shiv.
The superhero flexed his fists.
"Oh, please," Shiv drawled.
"Just give me a reason."
Sadly, he didn't get a chance
to give that guy a whacking.
Wilma Many Corn came
boiling up, waving a spoon.
"Bad boy!" she scolded,
advancing on Adriano.
"You get out of here!"
"I have every right --"
He reached for the bag
that he'd taken from the boy.
Wilma smacked his hand
with her spoon, hard enough
to make him yelp and jerk back.
He looked shocked, clutching
his hand. Maybe she'd broken it.
"But -- but I'm a tough guy!"
Adriano protested.
Wilma cackled. "Oh,
you're not as tough
as you think you are."
Shiv stepped aside
and let her have a turn
dealing with that guy.
He wanted to see
about the victim now.
Shiv picked up the bag --
it didn't feel very heavy --
and looked around for him.
Orla had him sitting on a bench,
stuffing himself with what smelled
like Three Sisters something-or-other
probably fetched from a friend's kitchen.
"Hi, folks," Shiv said, waving toward
the open end of the bench. "Do you
mind if I join you for a little bit?"
"Have a seat," Orla said, beckoning.
"Little Lynx, this is Chip, who has
chipmunk medicine and is also
a city Indian. Chip, Little Lynx is
an ally from Omaha City. There
he goes by the name Shiv."
Chip looked up, fuzzy cheeks
bulging with food. He swallowed,
then said, "Hi. Sorry to bother you."
"You're not the bother," Shiv said.
"Besides, I got a kick out of seeing
Wilma lay into that jackass."
Chip giggled. His voice
really did sound high,
and he was smaller than
Shiv had realized at first.
The kid couldn't be more
than fourteen or fifteen.
Well, that complicated
matters considerably.
At least Shiv had an idea
how to handle that, since
he had worked as a spotter
at the Omaha transit hubs.
Plenty of runaways came
through -- even more after
the Big One -- but the gang
only kept the ones who didn't
have any better prospects.
"So ... am I in trouble?"
Chip whispered, whiskers
twitching under his black nose.
"Well, I don't really think that
you are --" Shiv began.
"No, you are not in
trouble," Orla said firmly.
Okay, that settled that.
"Orla knows what she's
talking about," said Shiv.
"Wanna tell me what's up?"
Chip shook his head and
tucked into his food again.
"All right then, let's see
what this is," Shiv said,
and opened the bag.
It was full of food.
There wasn't a lot,
but all of it looked like
good, high-nutrient stuff.
Shiv pulled out two avocados,
a half-pound wedge of Asiago,
a bag of chili candied macadamias,
another of maple candied salmon, and
a squeezy tube of superfood tapenade.
Then there were three different bags
from the same place, Fort Chocolate.
One held something that looked
like nut clusters but the label said
dried blueberries and claimed
to be fortified with vitamins.
The bag of chocolate truffles
advertised assorted flavors and
was spiked with adaptogens.
Who put mushrooms in candy?
But there it was on the label, and
Shiv wondered if it was any good.
The chocolate-covered coconut eggs
advertised different superfood powders,
with the flavor indicated by the colors in
bright shades of pink, purple, and blue.
Some were lumps of colored coconut
with plain chocolate drizzle, while others
were completely coated in chocolate
with streaks or dots of colored icing.
"Fort Chocolate, huh?" Shiv said. "I
don't recognize the place. Any good?"
Chip nodded. "They're new," he said.
"I heard they came from out west."
Ah yeah, there were a lot of refugees
setting up in Omaha now, attempting
to restart businesses that had been
shattered by the earthquake.
Shiv still hadn't found them all,
even though he regularly patrolled
each of the farmer's markets in town,
probably because new ones kept
popping up every week or few.
"I'll have to check 'em out, these
look good," Shiv said. "So, tell me
straight -- did you take without paying?"
Chip nodded, hunching into himself.
"What for?" Shiv said. "Farmers
and cooks gotta make a living too."
"Cause I'm hungry!" Chip wailed.
"I'm just so hungry, all of the time.
I eat at the soup lines as much as I
can, but most only give one meal a day."
Shiv looked down at the little pile that
probably held enough calories to fill
a whole day for an ordinary person,
but half that or less for anyone
with a high-burn metabolism.
"How much do you typically eat,
somewhere you can eat as much
as you want?" Shiv asked him.
"Dunno," Chip said. "Never
been anywhere like that."
"Okay, first look for a sticker
of a cricket, it means that they
offer big portions or all-you-can-eat,"
Shiv said. "Second, I noticed that
you appeared real sudden-like here.
Are you a teleporter, or what?"
"Sort of," Chip said. "I mean,
I can skip around quite a bit when
it's short range, but I can't just pop
across the world like a real teleporter.
I can only make little jumps. Even
when I string them together, it only
gets me a few counties away."
"If you can teleport, then you are
a real teleporter," said Shiv. "I don't
care what bull somebody else fed you,
range is just a number. Teleporting
is one of the superpowers that
tends to burn calories like crazy.
Plus some primal soups need
different nutrients than naries do."
"That's why I'm always hungry?"
Chip said. "I didn't really know."
"Yeah, probably," said Shiv.
"At least, I've never known
a teleporter who wasn't, and
I know kind of a lot of them."
He remembered the time that
Pavo threw a screaming fit over
someone stealing his fudge at
an art party, and Pavo could
buy as much food as he wanted.
"That still doesn't excuse him
for stealing," Adriano muttered
as he trudged over to them.
"Never you mind that," Wilma said,
flapping a hand as if shooing away flies.
"The Omaha Nation will send someone
to make peace with the cooks and farmers."
"Yeah, that's good," Shiv agreed. "We
all gotta eat, can't afford to piss 'em off."
"Cooks and farmers are important,"
said Orla. "We take care of each other."
"That is not how crime and punishment
are supposed to work," Adriano complained.
"It is here," said Shiv. "The Omaha people
prefer restorative justice -- and before you
bitch about that too, their recidivism rate
is way lower than the prison system."
Then he glanced at Chip. "Though
if it comes to that, prison changed
my whole life. If you ever wind up
in a Nebraska one, use my name,
and the guys will look out for you."
"Thanks," Chip whispered. "That
makes jail seem a little less terrifying."
"He should go to jail, because he
keeps stealing things," said Adriano.
"You have to pay for the things you want."
Superheroes were so damn stuffy about
everything, and they tended to have
a serious shortage of lived experience
regarding the rougher challenges in life.
"Yeah, see, this isn't a capitalist economy,"
Shiv said, riffing a lecture he'd heard at
the giveaways. "This is a gift economy,
and if someone doesn't have enough,
then that shames the whole tribe, not
the poor person. So we make sure
that everyone's got enough to eat,
because they have a right to that. If
you have a right to food, it's not stealing."
Inevitably, Tommy started humming
"Green Frog Skins" to the tune of
"Three Blind Mice" but everybody
could guess which lyrics he meant.
"Okay, I guess, but --" Adriano sputtered.
"How much do you know about soups
and food?" Shiv said, glaring at him.
"I minored in Health and Wellness,
so I took a nutrition class for that,"
said Adriano. "I've never had trouble."
Shiv sighed. "Then your superpowers
probably don't run on calories," he said.
He pulled out his cert wallet and freed
a business card for Soup to Nuts. "Here,
call this number and get some information
about how much high-burn folks should eat."
"It's really that big a deal?" Adriano said
as he frowned at the card in his hand.
"This seemed pretty straightforward."
"When I was little, even before I actually
souped up, I was always, always hungry,"
Shiv said. "So I learned to eat the stuff
that nobody else liked, because then
it meant that I got some. Later on, I
found out that I need more calories than
naries do, even if I'm not working hard."
Up until the last few years, he had
probably snuck or otherwise stolen
more food than he was actually given.
"I didn't realize it was that much of
an issue," said Adriano. "I was
just trying to do my job today."
"Yeah well, at least you're not
that dick Stalwart Stan," said Shiv.
"He's a real pain in the ass."
"Someone you know personally,
a local superhero?" said Adriano.
"Yeah, he and Antimatter patrol
around the Gene Leahy Mall in
downtown Omaha," said Shiv.
"I know most of the locals, or I
did before things got shook up."
Adriano looked glum. "Yeah,
everything's a real mess now."
"Then fucking listen to me, 'cause
I'm local and you're not," Shiv said.
"Otherwise my Boss will kick your ass."
Adriano bristled at that, but didn't
actually try to argue with him again.
Shiv returned his attention to Chip,
who had curled up against Orla.
"Do you have a soup mentor?"
he asked. "Another teleporter
who can show you the ropes?"
Chip shook his head. "I don't
have anyone at all, really."
"You try asking at SPOON?"
Shiv said. "They can set it up."
"No, they kinda scare me,"
he admitted. "SPOON is all --"
He made a pushing, tumbling
gesture with both hands.
"Yeah, they can be, but
The Teleport is smooth,"
said Shiv. "Not all of them
are affiliated with SPOON."
"I don't know any of them
either, though," said Chip.
"That's okay," said Shiv. "I'm
friends with The Teleport. If I
ask, they'll send someone over
to find out what you actually need."
"He needs food, shelter, and clothing
like any growing boy," said Orla. "He
belongs to the Omaha Nation, so
the tribe will provide for him."
"Warshirt may be a naughty boy,
but he is right about how we should
take better care of the people who have
totem powers that show on their skin,
now the animal spirits are sending
more of them to us," said Wilma.
"So we are happy to help Chip."
"Okay, that's all great," said Shiv,
"but what about teaching him how
to use his superpowers? You gals
got a teleporter up your sleeve?"
"No, probably not," she admitted.
"That gift is not common in the tribes.
We should be able to find someone
with chipmunk medicine, though."
"What about both?" Chip said softly.
"Could I maybe have one of each?"
"That's not a bad idea," said Shiv.
"You need all your powers trained
so they don't run you into the ground."
"Can you really find people willing
to work with someone ..." Chip waved
a hand at his face. "... this messed up?"
"Anyone with totem gifts would be
honored to work with someone
who has such strong medicine,"
Orla assured him. "It's no problem."
"You don't think I'm a freak?"
Chip said, self-consciously
brushing the fur on his cheeks.
"Nah," said Shiv. "I'm used to it.
I'm friends with a capybara."
"A what?" Chip said, blinking.
"Fred looks ... hmm, kinda like
a giant muskrat," Shiv said.
"Everyone loves capybaras."
"That sounds pretty cute,"
Chip said. "It must be nice.
I just look weird, so I have
to wear clothes that hide it, but
I lost my hoodie somewhere."
"We'll find you another one
if you want, but you don't have
to hide yourself here," Orla said.
"Too many primal soups hide,"
said Shiv. "I know some, and I
know that they're actually among
the most common manifestations.
You hardly see any, though, because
so many people are horrible to them."
"We're trying to change that here,"
said Orla. "Tribal folks know better."
"It's strange being back," said Chip.
"I think I might've come here when I
was really little, but then I wound up
in foster care. They sent me to ...
some pretty shit places. Once I got
loose, I headed for familiar territory."
Shiv handed him a Soup to Nuts card.
"Talk to these folks," he said. "They'll be
thrilled to stomp Family Services. Again.
If the fuckwits who hurt you aren't already
in jail for messing with somebody else."
"That'd be nice," Chip said, tucking
the card in a pocket. "I'm glad
to be back, but I don't know
whether I can fit in here."
"Look on the bright side,"
said Shiv. "At least you're
not up a creek without a paddle."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.