The Dark Nate Rises

This is the thrilling conclusion to the epic Unemployed Superhero trilogy. You can read Natman Begins here, and The Dark Nate here.

“Birmingham doesn't need you any more, Nate.” I groggily awaken and raise my head to meet inches from Mr. Toodles' beady, dead eyes. I'm not sure why all my sanity breaks involve him, but I've come to consider the plush bugger as a sidekick. “And why are you only wearing underpants and a bedsheet tied around your neck?”

“I don't know, Mr. Toodles. Why are you a talking Pillow Pet? The world is full of questions.”

“For the last time, Mr. Toodles. My name isn't Nate! It's Natman. And it's not a bedsheet! It's a fancy tablecloth.” Mr. Toodles' gaze is unmoving. “Look, you know I can't afford a real superhero costume.” I'm standing up now, with Mr. Toodles at an unfortunate underpants level as I continue. “Have you seen the price per yard on flame-retardant polyurethane silk blends? You can't just buy that stuff in the fabric section of Wal-Mart.”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you!” Mr. Toodles' thick British accent always makes him sound huffy. “You're not a 'super hero' anymore.” I notice he did some odd motion with his stubby little flippers while he spoke.

“Air quotes, Mr. Toodles? How chaaaahmin'.” I do my best to mimic Mr. Toodles' accent, but it comes out sounding Jamaican. I realize that all my fake accents sound Jamaican, and I start practicing the word 'charming' over and over under my breath. Mr. Toodles sighs deeply, but obliges. Several minutes pass.

“Still Jamaican,” he huffs. “And now, let's get back to the matter at hand.” I stare quizzically at Mr. Toodles. “You know....” he continues, “the fact that you're not unemployed anymore, and that you've moved to a new state?” I cradle my chin with my index finger and thumb to accentuate that I am in deep thought. “I am in deep thought,” I proclaim to further accentuate that I am in deep thought. I'm not sure Mr. Toodles was getting the picture here, and I really wanted to drive that point home.

“Focus, Nathan!” he shouts as he slaps me across the face with his stuffed flipper. It feels like a breeze caressing me with clouds, but I play nice and throw my head in the direction of his aggression. Mr. Toodles is very sensitive about his cuddliness. “You've moved all your belongings and left most of your friends to work as a marketing manager at a realty group in Atlanta! In fact, you've been in Atlanta for about two months now!”

Stunned, I look around the room and realize that I am not in my Birmingham apartment. I sink onto the bed next to Mr. Toodles, and he unlatches himself and sprawls onto his back. I accept his offer and rest my head on his cottony stomach as I try to piece everything together. “Bu- but why would I do that? Birmingham is all I've known the past eight years. Who will be her protector? Who will slink in the shadows and impede the progress of villainy?”

“Birmingham doesn't need an unemployed lunatic running around in uncomfortably short underpants,” Mr. Toodles asserts.

“Oh, no they are quite comfortable,” I retort. “They're very thin, so they really breathe.”

“That's not what I meant!” Mr. Toodles is growing more agitated, only serving to make him look more adorable. I work very hard not to reach out and and gently stroke his head. “Nate,” he continues, “you left Birmingham because you needed something different. And now you have your own apartment and a new job. You wanted change and you found it!”

I sit up and face Mr. Toodles again, still confused. “That doesn't sound like me. I hate change! One time a homeless man came up to me on the street and asked me for change, and just hearing the word caused me to curl up in the fetal position and start crying.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Mr. Toodles sighed. “He felt so bad for you he gave you a dollar.”

“So why, then, did I abandon Birmingham? The city needs me!”

Mr. Toodles latches himself back up, and I can tell he is choosing his words carefully. I impatiently wait for his answer. “Because...” his dark eyes flit around the room nervously until, suddenly, his face lights up. “Because your old roommate, Zach, has taken up your mantle as the city's protector!”

“You mean Zobin the Bearded Wonder!?” I exclaim like a little girl on Christmas morning.

Mr. Toodles sighs. He sure does sigh a lot when we talk. “Yes, Zach- I mean, Zobin is keeping a watchful eye on the city so that you can be a productive citizen of Atlanta by holding a full-time job that requires you to wear pants.”

I excitedly stand and pace the room, finally connecting all the dots and remembering my path to Atlanta. I spill out into the parking lot and see that I am in the shadows of highrises as the bustle of city traffic fills my ears. Mr. Toodles waddles outside and stops at my feet. “This is great, Mr. Toodles!” I shout, ignoring the horrified stares of my neighbors.

“Now you've got it!” he replies. “Now you're back on track!”

“Yes,” I agree. “A new city and a new life. There's lots of exploring to do, Toodles ol' pal!” He looks up at me, his eyes squinting and the corners of his beak ever so slightly fading downward as if he was waiting for another sentence. “And lots of villains to catch!” I finish.

“Nate, you've missed the point!” It's too late. I've taken off running down the street with my cape flapping in the wind, undulating like a wave of justice. “You're going to miss work!” he yells desperately.

I pretend I can't hear him. “I can't hear you saying I'll miss work!” My words echo as I duck down a back alley and run straight into a homeless man scrounging through a dumpster. His wrinkled face sours as he looks me over. "Oh, don't worry. I was just talking to my Pillow Pet. He wants me to go to work today, but clearly I have more important things to do." The man silently hands me a dollar and pats me on the shoulder before taking a bite out of a discarded, moldy bagel.

Some things will never change.

Atlanta. She is my city, and I her protector.