Heroes

Heroes                                                1115

Hello, and welcome from Lady Lake, Florida, home of The Villages, the largest retirement complex in a state that is basically one big retirement complex.  I'm at my regular hangout, the Lady Lake Public Library, where they know me pretty well because I come here everyday to scam free internet access and nice air conditioning.  It's 90 degrees out, give or take Satan's breath, and I'm sweating so much, children run in and out of my shadow like I'm a wrenched-open fire hydrant.  

My mother helped me pick up Ray Salah, my opening act for the week and one of my best friends in the world, from the Orlando airport last night.  It was easily a one-hour trip one way, so I had a chance to catch up with mom a little more about what's been going on in our lives since we last saw each other last year.  Ray's flight was delayed because of an equipment problem, so Mom and I had a bite to eat at the airport McDonald's.  My mom was impressed that my career was doing so well that I could afford to take her out to such an expensive restaurant.

Tonight, Ray and I are performing at Gilley's 44, a nice sports bar/restaurant on the Atlantic coast in a town called New Smyrna Beach.  I worked there last year, and the place was very well attended.  I hope things go as well this year, but we're getting a little rain, so I hope that doesn't hurt the attendance at all.

So far, hunting down a comic book shop has been the biggest of my worries.  The Villages are insulated from the cares of the world, and I guess the adventures of the Justice League of America don't matter much to the octegenarian set.  I, however, care a lot and I will not be thwarted in my endeavors to get the new issue of JLA.  It's the seventh part of a seven-part story, so you can imagine my distress.

I've only been in Florida for a week or so, and my arms are bronzing nicely.  Maybe I'll slip out when no one is looking and get some color on my legs.  I did bring some swimming trunks.

Yeah, let's scare some old people.  With their bad eyesight, they might mistake me for a polar bear.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY