I could totally do it. I could be a superhero.
I like to think I have a good sense of right and wrong. My momma raised me right. I believe in being honest, forthright and kind. I believe in the power of generosity, the power of good and the right of the wronged to seek justice.
I know all of that isn't enough, though. A passion for justice alone does not a superhero make. If that were the case, we'd all be superheroes. (And then we wouldn't be super anymore would we?) The will to exact just revenge on the misdemeaning will not alone propel me to the ranks of the likes of Aquaman and the Flash. No, to be a superhero, one must have superpowers.
Don't come back at me with Batman. Batman doesn't count. Batman bought his way in. Batman was playing golf with his live-in teenage boy companion while Chinese gold farmers leveled up his character. Screw Batman. Having more money than Vishnu definitely counts as a superpower in my book. Can't buy me love, maybe, but it can buy a jet boat shaped like a bat. Batman can go to hell.
Aquaman's power might not be overwhelmingly cool either, but it's a power. He can do something you can't, ergo, he's a superhero. Same with the Flash. He doesn't do much, but he does it fast. What the hell good is that? I don't know. But you can't run that fast - hell, nobody can - so he's a superhero and you aren't. Life isn't always fair, but there it is. Want to go to superhero meetings at the Superhero Club? You need a superpower. Good thing I have one.
In 1987, a freak accident as a child left me with the strange ability to predict thunderstorms. Scientifically speaking, I have a crack in my skull the length of a dollar bill. Changes in barometric pressure give me headaches. Spidey-sense? Perhaps. "Fascinating," you may say, "but what good is this superpower?".What good, indeed. See: the Flash, and sit back down, pipsqueak. I can do something you can't. I'm a superhero.
My origin tale goes something like this: Boy seeks the solace of the local neighborhood swimming pool on a hot summer day. Boy likes the water slide. Boy foolishly slides down it head first. Boy cracks skull. Boy becomes superhero. Done. No radioactive spiders, no kryptonite. Just a water slide and a stupid child. Did the water slide make him, or did he make the water slide? That's the question. Laugh if you want, but I have a third eye and it sees the weather.
Practically speaking, the applications for my superpower are few. Since I'm not the Flash, the weather tends to move faster than I'm able. So even when I'm aware a storm is approaching, there's not much I can do about it beyond pointing up at the sky and saying "There's a storm approaching."