In Which Gorden is Chosen.

He ripped the cellophane from the package on his bed, his smile reaching from ear to ear as the plastic wrapper was reduced to a series of scrap pieces that flew around his bedroom.

No, Little Jimmy Jones had a secret; one day it would be for the world to know, but for now he must keep it to himself. No-one should realise it was him. No-one should be able to link him or his parents.

He pulled his pyjama trousers off, their spider web patterned print so last-week, and kicked them under the bed.

Under the bed a plethora of forgotten clothing and toys welcomed their new arrival with mute acceptance. There was room for more, and more would arrive. The black bat-emblem'd clothing would have offered moral support to the newly discarded red, blue and black clothing, but before it could, a red pyjama top joined them, its black-lines not even beginning to fade in the wash. They'd seen this before with Jimmy, his pyjamas stayed on for weeks and weeks on end and his mother failed to get them from him for washing until such time as new pyjamas arrived to oust the prior set.

He slid his new trousers on, neglecting underwear (Superheroes don't wear y-fronts!), and straightened his back and brought a grim face to the proceedings. Superheroes didn't go round grinning at everyone, Superheroes had problems to overcome, crimes to solve.

You didn't solve crimes with a smile.

A 'Whack!' maybe, or a 'Bam!' or, possibly even a 'Ka-Pow!', but not a smile.

This was the tricky part - the top. Jimmy pulled it over his body and waved his arms around inside the cloth, searching for the armholes like a drug-addled octopus trying to get a strait-jacket on, or maybe just an eight year old boy attempting to get dressed.

Suddenly his head popped out into fresh air, his grim look replaced with one of frustration as his arms seemed unable to find the correct holes. He looked down and his lips tightened. Something was wrong. Most heroes he'd seen didn't wear their capes on their chests.

He pulled his head inside the clothing again and tried something new - keeping his eyes open whilst his hands searched for their armholes.

It worked!

Suddenly his hands were poking out from his sleeves and for a fleeting moment while he forgot his grimness, a smile flashed across his face.

He turned his head, so as to see his cape, but found that it simply draped down his back, ending just below his bottom. He'd hoped to see it flying out behind him. Something clicked in his mind and he started to run round in circles, doing his best to avoid the unavoidable detritus of a young boy's bedroom floor.

His cape failed to fly majestically behind him.

He twisted round a few times on the spot, as fast as he could, in case that would help. All that happened was he made himself dizzy.

He looked up and again, the smile cracked through his grim superhero-with-issues face. His bedroom window showed a bright blue Spring sky, with a handful of small fluffy clouds and a bright sun.

He jumped to the window and looked out, their garden lay below him, a wide lawn sprinkled with faded-plastic toys was surrounded by his father's vegetable plots.

Why did his father insist on growing vegetables? It's not like anyone likes them, green and nasty things!

Throwing such evils as broccoli from his mind, our hero stepped carefully to the door and opened it quietly. He peeked out. Seeing no-one around who could compromise his secret identity he slid through the crack and stepped carefully down the stairs.

Holding into the bannister for dear-life he stepped on, his head swinging from side to side looking for any civilians. At the bottom of the stairs he turned looked round. His gaze slid into the kitchen.

His mother was there!

Her back was to him, her hands busy over the sink, seemingly in deep concentration trying to remove a truculent stain from a sauce-pan.

He decided to attempt it - he could walk on tip-toe as silent as a mouse, without any squeaking, which would, of course, have been inappropriate to a hero of his stature.

Step by small, quiet step he made his way along the hallway to the kitchen. He stopped to take a deep breath - he decided to hold his breath whilst passing behind his mother's back. On tip-toe, breath-held, she'd never see nor hear him! His super-powers would see to that!

He stepped into the kitchen. His mother was humming something by Robbie Williams as she attacked the burnt-on food with gusto.

Gusto! Obviously a new brand of pot-cleaner you've not seen before.

Another step, another and another.

He was behind his mother. Some people called her 'Edith' but he thought that was a really silly thing to call her: her name was Mother.

Another step, another and another.

He reached the back door and took hold of the handle. It was a stiff handle and he'd have to use his all his super-strength to open it quietly.

"If," his mother said without turning round, "You intend going into the garden, I'd like you to put some shoes on first."

"Yes'M." He mumbled.

She knew he called her 'M'; 'Mum' seemed like a huge waste of effort for a young boy to say, let alone 'Mother'. Maybe one day, she thought, he'd get the full word out...

Again without turning round, she continued, "Do you want help putting them on?"

"No'M." He replied, turning round and running out of the kitchen before she saw him in his suit-and-cape.

It could be very dangerous for her if she knew of his dual-identity and he had to protect her.

Locating his shoes was fifty per-cent simple. They were in the front-room, because that's where he'd taken them off, yesterday. The front-room was a complicated room, with chairs and settee and TV stand; plus a couple of toy-boxes that seemed to fill themselves up at night, ruining the careful layout of playthings he'd organised the night before.

One shoe was under the sofa. He pulled it onto his bare feet.

Superheroes didn't need to wear socks and socks were difficult things to put on by yourself.

The second shoe was much more difficult. It was playing some strange game of hide and seek with him. Finally he decided to check within the toy boxes, and lo-and behind! There it was, hidden below a pile of Lego bricks.

His grin returned and he yanked the second shoe on. These didn't have laces in, he'd tried ones with those horrific things, but these ones had Velcro and were much better. Why would people ever want shoes with laces and buckles? Velcro was magic.

Maybe Velcro was the Thing that gave him his super-powers?

Feet firmly placed in shoes, probably the right way round, he'd guessed as he did normally but they didn't seem too uncomfortable, so: probably right, he raced into the hall way and took one glance at his mother's back and smiled again.

He ran along the corridor and into the kitchen, hoping to do it so fast that she didn't see him: he was a super-hero after all.

Again, his hand closed around the door knob and he turned it.

"Enjoy yourself, dear." His mother told him a she pottered around the kitchen.

"K'M." He said. Sometimes he seemed to speak in text-messages. I blame Prince.

Then he was out of the house and into the garden. He ran to the centre and was pleased to feel his cape flapping behind him. In joy he raced round and round the garden, making wider and wider circles until he was circumnavigating the entire swathe of grass.

He raced past his father's carrot-beds, doing his best not to look at the growing vegetables in case his mother saw him and thought that he liked them - maybe if he never looked at another vegetable ever again she'd realise he didn't like them and stop putting them on his plate!

His foot landed hard on the grass in front of two small figures huddled under the plant-leaves at the edge of the carrot patch.

One of the figures was a rabbit, with a half-chewed and obviously rather fresh carrot in his mouth. The other was a shorter figure, a gerbil who seemed to be enjoying an also fresh-looking cabbage leaf.

The rabbit turned and looked at the gerbil and dropped the carrot from his mouth.

"What the fuck was that?" He said, rather astonished to have avoided injury from flailing human-child-limbs.

"I think," the gerbil responded, "That was Ooper-Dooper-Man."

"Opper-Dooper-Man?"

"Yeah," The gerbil said, picking the carrot from the floor, dusting it down and handing back to his friend. "Looks like a cheap Korean knock-off, representing a well-known superhero stereotype without actually using quite the right colours or icons."

"I did think the blue looked a little cerulean." The rabbit said.

"On the other hand, Gorden my old china," The gerbil said, smacking his lips, "The young superhero's dad dunnarf plant a decent brassica."

"I expect you're enjoying the cabbage too, Dave."

David looked up at Gorden and smiled. "That I am, Gord, that I am."

"I suppose Dave," Gorden said as he munched the last mouthful of carrot, "We should get off to work now."

"Well, Gord, I suppose we should."

"Work eh?" Gorden asked in a sing-song voice, "What is it good for?" He smiled at David as he continued, "Absolutely nothing!" They stepped back from the edge and turned towards the fence. A small hole at the base beckoned as a point of egress.

"I think, Gord," David said as they walked to the fence "You'll find that Work is good for something, and that thing is money."

"Oh." Gorden said, he'd been hoping they'd sing together.

"And money is that nice stuff that we give to the man every month so we can have a nice burrow to live in."

"I suppose so."

"And money is that nice stuff we give to the shop-keeper so we can have some food that isn't pulled straight from the ground."

"Yeah, well."

"And," David seemed to emphasise this particular 'and' more than the previous two, "Money is that nice stuff we give to Bourneville in exchange for beer."

Gorden smiled, David seemed to have hit the right spot.

"You've hit the right spot there, David my best of friend."

They had reached the fence, David stood to one side and bowed, "After you, my bestest friend, the Mashed Potato Fields beckon."

Gorden bent his head just a little and stepped through the hole, quickly followed by his rodenticle friend.

The other side of the fence led out onto a path which led into a small wooded area, beyond which were the fields and gentle hills that held the warren where the two friends lived and worked.

Sitting on the path, seemingly awaiting their arrival was a rather dishevelled looking hedgehog.

"Arugaaarrrh!" said the hedge-pig.

"Hello porky." Gorden replied courteously, he always tried to be nice polite chap.

"ARRRRUUGHGHGHTHTHT!" said the hedgie, rolling his eyes.

"I think we should be moving on..." David whispered to Gorden, tugging at his arm.

"YOU ARE THE ONE!" The hedgehog said pointing at Gorden, who suddenly felt quite worried. The hedgehog continued: "You are the blessed one."

"I think maybe you are confusing me with someone else." Gorden said, backing away. Then with a little bit of quick thinking "Maybe you mean that coney over there?" Gorden pointed to a spot somewhere behind the hedgehog.

The hedgehog was not fazed, nor confused by Gorden's tactics.

"You ARE (aararararrara) The Chosen One!" He screamed at the top of his voice, followed by: "You will find the golden carrot!"