Chapter One: The Good Ol’ Hero With Messy Hair

Once upon a time, in a world not so different from yours, there lived a man who flew. His name was Superman, and he had a big secret. Come closer. I can’t say it out loud, or people will hear. He once tripped on The Daily Planet’s staircase and spilled coffee all over his shirt. Insert awkward, comical music. He borrowed a shirt from Jimmy Olsen, and God, he looked ridiculous. It was wonderful. Bet you know how that feels. The coffee spilled all over your shirt, that is. I know I do. I greet it with an awkward smile and a laugh. You’d tell right away that I loved it.

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Same planet, different city, there lived another man. Shocking, right? He liked to cosplay bats. In fact, he was the best at cosplaying. His name was Batman. Yes, I know, how basic, right? Right. Now, Batman had the worst sleep schedule. I wouldn’t even call it a schedule at this point. It was a freestyle, but, hey, he excelled at something!

Alfred would often find him face-first on the Batcomputer, drooling on the keyboard, dreaming of catching criminals–namely, The Penguin–without having to use any pew pews. And, no, not the Nihilistic Penguin. This one was human. Unfortunately.

Now, now, these heroes were dented, flawed. They had bad days. They drank too much coffee. They slept on keyboards. They burned toast. They attended Zoom meetings wearing their PJs and a tie. And then, they accidentally sat upright and acted like nothing happened, like no one saw the PJs or the stains on them.

And we loved them. Oh, how we loved them. Because when you looked at them, you felt seen, understood. Until it all changed.

Chapter Two: The Perfection Police

And then, something unexpected happened. The biggest plot twist of them all.

A giant, quite heroic machine slid in–The Perfection Police. The superhero world changed forevermore. Fin.

Well, not quite. Let me tell you what I know.

No one knows who built it. Some say it was those people in movie studios. Some say it was those who make action figures. Some say it was a scary-looking goblin who had a thing for shiny, sparkly things. What I know for sure is that it’s not made in China.

One by one, the heroes went into the machine.

Buzzzzzzzzz SHINE SHINE SHINE!

Out came Superman. Then Batman. Then Captain America. Coffee stains? Gone. Drooling on the keyboard? Gone. A man who has no flaws? Uhm…That was already there.

Chiseled jaws that could cut glass. And your dreams. Arms, when crossed, looked like turrets. Mistakes who? Do what you will to their hair; it’s never bad. Clothes automatically regenerate. Perfect poses, capes billowing in the wind, and a face card that never declined.

P.S. I woke up today, and I looked like a banshee trying to modernize herself. My hair was catching alien signals.

Heroes became wax statues in a museum of perfection. Their theme songs became speeches about freedom, equality, and the undeniable necessity of feminism. They used to be good. They were always the good guys, but they had depth, flaws, and relatability. But that… that was gone because of that evil, evil machine. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Chapter Three: Shiny Things Are Not For Everyone

The issue with perfection is that when you put a hero on a pedestal and polish them until they gleam, something happens to the people watching from below.

People look up, squinting against the brightness, finally realizing that, “Oh, man. I’ll never be that shiny.”

You see, you cannot relate to a lightbulb. You screw it in, but eventually it’ll die on you. You can’t have a cup of tea with a statue. You poke it, and it doesn’t do anything. And it ghosts you more than your toxic ex. You can tell a wax figure about all the times you had bad grades or tripped over thin air, but it’ll never react. It’ll just stand there, looking perfect, judging you with its perfect, symmetrical eyes.

Heroes, then, become like teachers who never made mistakes. Parents who are always right. The popular kid in class who never does anything wrong. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Ironically, you start feeling neglected, reliving past traumatic experiences about why you’re never that perfect.

It stopped being fun.

Chapter Four: Why We Started Rooting for the Bad Guys

And so, people broke up with their heroes.

But they found something else. Or someone else.

The Joker wasn’t shiny. He had clown makeup on, laughed like he smoked ten packs a day–or like a hyena if we’re extra honest. He was chaos in a suit, a little unhinged, but that’s the way they liked it. He wasn’t standing on a gargoyle looking emotionally and physically constipated.

Then, they looked at Loki. Oof, Loki. Dramatic, petty, and had a magical transformation each time he was upset. The little trickster was playing tricks on everything that moved, especially Thor. But, you understand. It’s like that brother who enters your room, turns on the lights, and then… just leaves.

Then, they looked at Magneto. Grumpy, powerful, and had a helmet that made him look like an egg. But he had a reason. He was sad, angry, and hurt. Even if you didn’t agree with him, you’d have a long chat over coffee, patting each other’s shoulders.

Chapter Five: Perfect or Dented?

It was at that moment people realized they didn’t want a hero who was never gonna give them up. They wanted realism.

Remember, if you trip tomorrow, just pretend you were perfecting your superhero landing.