The Barbeque Grill Wandered Off...

 

It was around noon when Frank got home; he had avoided all the usual dangers and was hoping just to drink a good cup of coffee. He had thrown his car keys down on the counter like normal and was surprised with a metallic clang of keys hitting tile.

“What the hell,” came his confused voice when he realized something was definitely wrong with that; he slowly started to shake off the drivetime haze.

 Where the counter had always been was nothing, he could see the outline of where it used to be. The tiles under the counter were decidedly whiter than the greyish tile he had assumed his kitchen should have.

He stared at the spot, wondering how Sarah would react when she saw this, “Well, I guess there’s a reason we were told never to use harsh chemicals.”

Bending down to pick the keys up, he decided to ignore the issue; for now, it was clearly something serious, and he needed his afternoon fix to handle any problems. He walked to where the fridge was supposed to be, only to find the same empty space; this is around the time panic started setting in.

He pocketed his keys, looking around the kitchen; there was nothing left, the counters were all gone, the appliances having taken flight with them. Before he went out of the kitchen, he decided to look at how bad it was; he went to the wall socket, and with a drop of his stomach, dread set in. The plastic casing was gone; not even the screws that should be holding it all in were there.

“This has already been a long day; I just wish it would end with me sleeping on a bed.” He grumbled, walking through the now doorless entryway into the rest of the house.

His fears were well-founded; there was nothing left; even the nails for the paintings had gone. There were no visible marks as to how or when everything had gone; he knew from experience it would not be that easy. Instead, he walked out to the deck; he had personally cemented the supports into the ground, the deck never went anywhere.

He walked through the doorless frame and looked at what was left; the barbecue grill had wandered off, it being the easiest thing to grab. The lawn looked normal, but only if the house was being sold after the previous tenants had stolen everything.

“Oh, come on, last time, they at least left the shed alone.” That was the last thing Frank could say before the entire shed was lifted into the air. He had known living in this city would be troublesome, but he had been promised his house would be safe at all times.

Just as he turned to go back inside, a deck chair came flying from his neighbor’s house; Frank caught it and opened it begrudgingly. His 74-year-old neighbor was retired and had lived here his whole life; somehow, nothing seemed to faze him anymore. Frank had long lost hope in figuring out how a man that old was able to throw chairs through the air.

He heard Sarah’s car arrive only a moment after he sat down in his new chair; Frank didn’t bother looking. Instead, he just wormed himself into a more comfortable position; he heard her make the same mistake as her keys hit the tiles. “Oh, come on!”

Frank smiled; they were never in danger of being hurt because of some rule the villains had to abide by. However, one of the heroes that loved to fight villains used her powers to draw on nearby loose items, her definition of loose being subjective.

“Sarah! It’s your turn to call the insurance; last time they had me on hold for two hours!” He yelled into the empty house.

A city of heroes and villains meant houses were cheap, insurance expensive, and not even your underwear could avoid being used as a weapon.