Jake’s word (part two of The Loser)

The best type of comedy is the straight-man routine. The foil serves the over-the-top eccentricity and the straight man gives the dead-pan rebuttal or sets up the comedy foil to bring the big laughs in.

Since my twin brother Fred (he hates when I call him that) and I were fourteen, we used these roles as a whole routine for our lives.

“I couldn't get enough balance to get the shot,” Fred sighed as mom made us dinner.

“Let me guess, Fred, you couldn't find the best loser stance to make it in the hoop,” I snuck in a piece of chicken, my mom swatting my hand away with a blistering stare. Fred rolled his eyes as I tried to eat the too-hot chicken, going back and forth between my hands.

It falls on the floor. We both eye it: he looks a mix of angry and disgusted as I am zoning in on the lone piece of sizzling chicken. It reminded me of a Malcom in the Middle dinner scene. Like wild animals getting the last piece of juicy meat.

“No, don-”

Despite his protests, I picked it up and popped it in my mouth.

“My little troublemaker monkey!” Mom yells to me in Spanish, pointing the spatula at me meanacingly.

I laughed, sitting at the table next to him as he scoffs in disgust.

“He’s more of a gorilla!” Fred quipped. My mom guffawed, stirring the hot pepper chicken with gusto.

“I bet you had a free throw and couldn't even make that,” I lazily drawl out. “Like, even if the hottest girl tried to give you a free pass, you'd find a way to get her to run. Free passes make you into the dumbest pile.”

Fred growled at me but said nothing.

“You need to find your footing and stop goofing, mi Amor,” Mom said to Fred.

I laughed. “I bet you can't even keep your arm hooked the right way in that L shape. And that's saying something since you always have an L on your forehead.”

He frowned. I almost felt bad, then he kicked me.

“Oww, you stupid, Hijo de-” I started and mom went crazy.

“Sólo cállate un minuto! I can't cook in peace!”

We stayed quiet. But I stuck out my tongue at mom’s turned back. She turned a moment and I pretended to make a slice at my neck with my finger, looking dead.

We both laughed. It was a rare moment of shared funny.

Now, we’re seventeen, almost graduated high school. It was on a random Sunday when Fred started acting weird. It came as a strange sign of many different signs.

The news was reporting odd sorts of illnesses that resulted from mutated groundwater(from nuclear waste) that was finding its way into public places. City water was considered gold to pizza places and bakeries. New York’s bagels were really the shining beacon of this concrete hell. That was the one thing my brother and I agreed on. My brother came home feeling funny after getting Thai food. I didn't really pay attention until a brownout started to cause everything to flicker and go cuckoo.

“I never really saw that before. Two straight-man acts in a film. Like Gene Hackman in The Producers. He was the serious yet hysterical foil to Mostel’s insanity and wild antics. But, The Other Guys, that's the first time I saw two straight men. It weirdly works as a comedy act.”

“I never saw you as a straight man either, but you don't hear me going on about it! And it was Gene Wilder, not Hackman.”

My eyes widened. Fred never made jokes. Especially like my jokes.

Everything in the house started flickering, the lights wildly going on and off. The wi-fi went out. The TV shut off.

All of a sudden, the lights got so bright, I thought it was a sign of a nuclear attack.

“All hands on deck!” I screamed as I went over some cushions.

Fred shook me out of the pillows as everything went black. Mom was at work.

“What are you? A pirate?” Fred mocked.

I scoffed with a light chuckle.

I have heard of ESP, psychic energy and people who feel the vibrations of earth and of others. I have always thought that powers were somehow inside of us, waiting to be untapped. Of course, my brother, the loser, the one who can't make a free-throw, the one that can't get the girl-— he's the one who gets powers. He realized he could control energy, electric and otherwise, through his feelings and thoughts.

I heard of criminals, small time thugs and stupid robbers, also getting powers. Even making stupid names for themselves like, The Dreamer. A woman who puts people to sleep in a glance. Sounded kind of hot, actually. But, others were also stepping up to be heroes.

I wondered how society and the law would react to this sudden insurgence of vigilantes.

I read Watchmen where the act of vigilantes had eventually become illegal. Batman was hunted not only by evil villains but the very people who he protected. Being a hero is a price. Though I read tons of comics and fantasy lore, I knew this time it was real. Real because of my brother.

I was hoping that a true evil wouldn't rear its ugly head, like a real villain. Like Hitler. Usually, a villain would mainly try to steal something, maybe create a big hullabaloo from a heist or robbing spree. World dominance is a silly aspect of the more cliche type of villains. Even the main villain in Watchmen just wanted to destroy part of the world to keep the rest safe. Like Cold War reimagined.

We never saw a villain that wanted to destroy everything just to do it. Villians like to keep some of the world in tact for their conquest. Some heroes just seemed to be in their own world with the silly villian as their comic foil. That's why I think the straight man and the comic foil is the best type of routine.

No one gets hurt with that act. That's my word on that. I tried to convince my brother of this, to no avail.