The Flash

Narrator: Faster than a hot flash after a glass of wine. Layered like a summer bed on a winter day. Able to jump to conclusions in a single bound.

Man 1: Look! In the coffee shop! It's a woman.

Woman: In her 50’s.

Man 2: She’s Super Frank!

Narrator: Yes, it’s Super Frank, a strange visitor from another neighborhood, banished by her local barista, with powers “to be honest” and abilities to give unsolicited advice far beyond those of a younger woman. Super Frank can change the course of a good day and bend your will with her side-eye. Disguised as Francesca Little, a mild-mannered wife and active suburban grandmother, she fights a never-ending battle for truth, comfort, and…

Super Frank: Oh, just get out of the way!

Narrator: (stepping aside) And now another exciting episode in the adventures of Super Frank. Dressed only in yoga pants and a tank top, oh and a sweatshirt, nope just a t-shirt, she’s fanning herself, oops, there goes the layers and she’s down to a sports bra, folks. Someone get that woman a cold glass of water. Wardrobe!

Super Frank: I want a margarita, on ice, with salt on only half the rim, and not too much lime, but not too sweet, and not too much ice. Oh hell, make it blended!

Barista: Ma’am, you’re at a coffee shop, we don’t serve alcohol.

Super Frank: Well then, YOU ARE OF NO USE TO ME!

Narrator: Still fanning herself, she’s tugging at a wild chin hair and blinking her way back down to medium-mannered.

Francesca: I’ll take a cappuccino to go, one sugar, please… to go. Thanks, sweety. Did I say to go?

Narrator: She leaves a $20 tip, puts on her parka, and bids everyone a nice day. Superhero or supervillain. You decide.