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    A Normil Day
    A Normil Day
    A Normil Day
    Ebook106 pages1 hour

    A Normil Day

    By Isabel Pelech

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    About this ebook

    Rick Normil is used to superhero-related problems. He works at a newspaper that seems to be cursed to be involved in strange events, and it’s rubbed off. In fact, he was woken up by an inter-dimensional imp just this morning. But being a ghost is putting a crimp in his style.

    Armand, another ghost, helps him get his bearings. But then there’s the question of who Armand is, and what he feels so guilty about. Armand has a devastating secret, one he’s prepared to keep from the whole world. He’s convinced that the world shouldn’t look like this—superheroes, supervillains, whole cities and countries—and he feels personally responsible for the shape of Rick’s life. He claims to have superpowers, but they come with conditions, and he’s reluctant to use them on Rick’s behalf.

    Rick will have to convince him soon, however. Because the person who stole Rick’s body is on the move. Rick is friends with Guardian, one of the strongest superheroes in the world, and the bodyjacker wants to become him. He uses Rick’s body to get close to Guardian, then takes Guardian over. Rick will have to use all his resources, including Armand’s powers, the paper’s star reporter, and a superpowered zombie, to get Guardian’s body back. And then he’ll have a few words for the man, because Guardian was keeping a secret too . . .

    A light-hearted superhero romp which deliberately borrows elements from various popular superhero stories, A Normil Day explores the life of a cosmic cat toy, and why it isn’t all bad. The world may be different—and yes, it is Armand’s fault—but people are more or less the same.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIsabel Pelech
    Release dateJul 1, 2017
    ISBN9781370208371
    A Normil Day
    Author

    Isabel Pelech

    I'm a mother of two living in the South. I play viola and mess around on the internet incessantly. Really, the most interesting thing about me are all the worlds in my head, and I hope you like reading them as much as I enjoyed creating them.

    Read more from Isabel Pelech

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      Book preview

      A Normil Day - Isabel Pelech

      A Normil Day

      Isabel Pelech

      Distributed by Smashwords

      Copyright 2017 Isabel Pelech

      Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Author’s Note

      Armand Cole

      Chapter 1

      The world is not supposed to look like this. Remember that. The world is not supposed to look like this.

      I realize that none of you remember it any other way. It isn't just now; the influence extends backwards through history. World War Two, the first great clash of Extraordinaries, with Miss Victory and the Gunslinger fighting alongside Allied troops, keeping the Nazi Extraordinaries from taking out hundreds of men. The Wild Man of Africa, raised by gorillas in the late eighteen hundreds. From the folk heroes of the American west back to the demigods of Greece, there are stories of Extraordinaries—and if you look closely enough, you can see the marks they've left on history. Or, in some occasions, on the landscape, like Pecos Bill's Gap.

      And now, of course, with the population higher than it's ever been, we're living in the Age of Extraordinaries. Cris Mendoza, also known as the Silver Bullet, has been on Mythbusters twice, I think, using her superspeed to test gun myths that would be far too dangerous for a normal human being. NASA actively hunts for strangetechs; their red-carpet treatment is said to put NFL recruiters to shame. And if you look out the window in Marina City—

      That's another thing. Marina City. Rock Harbor. There are a few major cities that shouldn't actually exist. I'm not sure what that means for the people who live there; possibly they're supposed to be in Chicago or New York. And there are small changes to the culture, as well. Science fiction, the literature of scientists and young businessmen—it should occupy roughly the same status as fantasy, literature of nerds. Comic books—well, they were never entirely mainstream, but they shouldn't be the vanishing niche market that they are.

      When you look at it, living in the wrong city and reading the wrong books is actually a very small change. There are people who have had their life far more distorted by what the world has become.

      Rick Normil is one of them. For the most part, this story belongs to him. I'll fill in the gaps, I'll tell the bits he wasn't there for, but the rest is his.

      And, Rick—I'm sorry.

      Rick Normil

      Chapter 2

      When your alarm clock turns into a frog, you know it's going to be one of those days.

      I'll say this, though. It woke me up. The alarm clock went ZEE ZEE ZEE croak? with the croak coming right as I tried to hit the snooze and got a handful of amphibian. At which point it pissed itself and jumped off the bedside table. I pried my eyes open and looked at it.

      Green. Wet. Google-eyed. A bona fide frog.

      Which meant no snooze button. Which meant, much as I hated the fact, I had to be up. I groaned, levered myself out of bed, and went into the bathroom.

      I didn't feel like making a big deal out of the even larger bullfrog in the soap dish. Or the very large dragonfly which I thought might be my razor. But the toothpaste turning into a very small alligator just as I was trying to put the cap back on? That was a problem. A bitey problem.

      I put a band-aid on my finger and looked in the bathtub. There was a medium-sized alligator in there. Possibly the bath mat.

      Okay, fine. Didn't need a shower this morning after all. I splashed water on my face, dabbed myself dry with the Spanish moss currently hanging from my towel rack, and shambled in the general direction of my kitchen. Coffee. Coffee is coping. Coffee is love.

      Unfortunately, the ongoing bayouification wasn't limited to my bedroom and bathroom. The cabinet that should have contained the Wheatie Flakes was full of angry eyes. I spotted a raccoon before I shut the door on it. The frying pan turned into a stork as I picked it up, so I decided not to even try for eggs.

      I could pick up breakfast from the BreadCo on the corner, I decided. And coffee, since the coffeemaker appeared to be a beaver. Not quite yet, though; the last thing I needed was this stuff following me into a restaurant and freaking people out. I went to my door, got my paper, and settled down at my kitchen table to read it, propping my feet on the other chair.

      There was a short, pregnant pause. Then the invisible force turned me into a frogman.

      I sighed inaudibly and flipped straight back to the comics page. Definitely one of those days.

      At least I hadn’t been turned into an ape; as a black guy, I find that prospect more than a bit racist. Unfortunately, we do have a local gorilla-themed supervillain; fortunately, he’s got lousy aim. And, right back to unfortunately, gorillifying the toy poodle that happened to be beside me added extra rampage to an already rampage-rich situation. It had pink bows on its ears. Ladies and gentlemen, my life.

      There was a somewhat longer pause, and then a being popped angrily into existence at about standing-up eye level. I very deliberately didn't look up, but I could make him out in my peripheral vision. Sort of a three-dimensional caricature, with the head larger than all the rest of him, about two feet tall. White, wild-haired, middle-aged. Dressed like the Mad Hatter as drawn by what's-his-name, the original illustrator. And, of course, bobbing mid-air. He clenched his fists and said, Aaaarrggh!

      People don't usually actually say aargh. It's usually more like rrrgh or nnngg. I turned the page.

      "How? How can any being

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