The Middle East has announced its first ever Comic Festival . While I’m not an aficionado of comics, images of Superman and the like have moved me to daydreaming. In fact, I believe most men all imagine that they are superheroes, made to stand for good and fight evil anywhere it may lurk.
Look at my life. By day I am a mild-mannered reporter in the Middle East,  but every weekend morning, I transform into Captain Tired; brave, groggy and a legend in my own mind. My duty is to fight for the right to sleep in. My arch mimeses are alley cats and Joe Diesel.
Who’s this villain you ask? This is a deliveryman who never sleeps but rather works non-stop to destroy me and my slumber. Allow me to relay our most recent battle.
It was an innocent, quiet Saturday. Captain Tired  and his family finally got to sleep in and all was well. That was until the Diesel man rolled up to our building. At 6 o’clock in the blessed a.m. and with no regard for human rest, Joe blew his mega-air horn once. Twice? Thrice!
I, the Captain , said to myself. “I knew you’d be back J. Diesel. Heaven forbid you simply call the customer and tell them you’re here. In this country there is a law against having a noisy dog in the city. Well, I’m calling the cops because there’s a diesel hound dog who needs to go to the kennel!”
Okay, that was a little strong. Sorry, the Captain gets grumpy in the morning. And besides, my enemy was still out there honking more than a goose with allergies.
After the 7th beeeeeeep, I told myself that if he breaks double digits, I would go straight out there in my underwear and put an end to this commotion. Luckily for the neighborhood, the customer emerged on the ninth honk --- Captain Tired was wearing his Christmas Jingle Buns boxers and the scene would not have been jolly or merry.
Joe Diesel may have stopped his ‘Get’em Outta Bed Bedlam’ but the damage was already done; Captain Tired was now wired after all that transpired. I retreated to my lair for some reflection i.e. the bathroom, and decided to relax with a warm shower.
But wait? There was no hot water! Were we out of diesel?
I was foiled again! I’ll get you Joe Diesel! Get your early morning, petrol-smelling self over here, now!
No, seriously, bring 500 liters. In fact, come anytime you want. Just, for the love of all that’s good and holy, call when you get here.
By Brett Weer