For the third time this month, I was awakened this morning by the sound of a large object crashing into my window. Perhaps it should have startled me. By now though, I’ve come to view it as an occupational hazard. If I’m being completely honest – not a revered quality for a PR person, I know – I suppose on some level I’m touched.

Yes, the first time it happened, I bolted upright in my bed with a jolt. I feared it was an unfortunate bird. I’d cautiously stepped over to the window to glance down the four stories; slightly averting my gaze out of concern for what carnage I might find. My concern was quickly allayed when I realized it was CarPig. One of my clients. My favorite, actually. 

They warned me when I took this gig that this brand of foolishness was not uncommon. I didn’t entirely believe them. I’d declined a position (a well-paying one with major perks, mind you) at the Lane-Kent Agency because I’d grown weary from working with the monstrous egos and gross entitlement issues of the better-known superheroes. And Lane-Kent’s roster is the who’s who of them. So drained was I by the antics of Wonder Woman with her bougie lasso and Aqua Man who reeked of fish and dripped water into my office with every visit, I’d started to consider leaving Gotham altogether.

Then the offer came from the Combs Agency (‘There Are No Small Superheroes, Just Small Minds (and Sometimes Penises)’) and I saw it as an opportunity to reinvent myself. It felt promising and exciting! I’d be doing something to forward these nobodies – a term we’re discouraged from using – rather than continue to stoke the fires of the already wildly successful. Even Robin was getting too big for his now sequined britches. 

What I didn’t realize though was that the lesser-known superheroes, known as the ‘niche-ers’, possess the same capacity for overgrown egos run amok. In hindsight, I see that that’s part of what makes them qualified for superheroism. I get it. It’s a tough industry. Especially if you lack some of the necessary skills. 

As is the case with CarPig. 

I’d like to see CarPig succeed. First because he’s my client and if he fails, then I look bad. Again, I’m just being honest. But as I said, he’s my favorite client. I actually like the guy. He’s like one of Wendy’s lost boys who somehow made it to the age of 104 and thinks he’s got what it takes to rise to the highest echelon of superherodom. He doesn’t though. I don’t say this from a place of judgment. After all, I’m just a mere mortal. And I have absolutely NONE of what it takes to be a superhero – even if my cats deem me one. But they also choose to eat bugs. My point is, I don’t know of CarPig’s personal struggles. To be in possession of superpowers is both a great responsibility and a huge burden. 

CarPig is actually a nickname. His full superhero birth name is Carrier Pigeon Man. He does actually have the ability to fly- even if it’s hindered (as my window can testify) by a tricky inner ear issue. And his carrier pigeon heritage makes him a remarkable communicator.

Yet, he’s a quirky guy with spindly orange legs who dons a full-on cape festooned in iridescent oily grey feathers. His head juts back and forth when he walks and his voice has a gentle cooing quality. None of these exactly conjure images of great heroism. So his optics aren’t great. Which is part of why he came to me.

Challenge accepted.

First, I suggested we do something with his name. Something showier and more powerful like The Carrier or even Pidge Man. He vigorously jutted his head back and forth, which was his way of saying no because he’s incapable of shaking it from side to side. I understood his reticence to a name change though. It’s a headache. And a lot of paperwork. So I figured we’d circle back to that. Then I had to address the elephant in the room. It was our newest client Ella Phantasm whose primary superpower appeared to be getting lost. She’d accidentally wandered into my office, so I pointed her in the right direction and then turned back to CarPig.  

He looked deflated. Being the master communicator he is, he willingly shared with me (gushed) his complicated family dynamic and the challenges he faced as a squab and squeaker. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say that it was a heartbreaking story. As it turns out, his brother is the higher-level superhero Pigeon who fought Moletron as an esteemed member of the Sca-vengers. Yeah. It’s kind of a big deal. Meanwhile, CarPig has only ever fought a parking ticket he received from a heartless and notorious Gotham enforcement officer. And he lost that battle. 

All of this presents as problematic in trying to improve CarPig’s image. The biggest problem with changing CarPig’s optics though has to do with his strongest superpower. Yes, he can fly. Essentially. And he can cover a large surface area with a sheet of smooth and shiny excrement. I mean, just consider the applications. Yet, these powers are dwarfed by his sheer ability to RESIST. For it is resistance that is both his greatest superpower and worst enemy. On the one hand, he can use it to push up against a speeding train barreling toward a large group of ridiculously adorable, freakishly well-behaved, but entirely oblivious young children. On the other, he is completely incapable of taking direction of any sort. As such, while he sought me out for help, he resists every suggestion I give him. Yes. CarPig is going to be my greatest challenge. 

So when I woke up this morning to his third thud, I resolved to make him the superhero that he is. I’m not sure how I’m going to do that yet, but I’m determined to find a way where he can use his powers for good rather than evil. Cliché as that may be. Once I achieve this, I suppose I’ll be something of a superhero. Yes! My cats will finally be vindicated! 

And I’ll just conveniently disregard the half-eaten bug in my living room.