For those of you who don't know: There exists (in a storage area of Rick's no doubt) a four and a half second film of "Underman" - me, in briefs too large for my 4 year old butt, wearing a white t-shirt and tube socks that nearly swallowed up my entire legs, balancing myself on a wooden box we used to use for propping up our feet up to watch television.
I realize now that this tendency must be something genetic (Ian has never seen the Super 8 documentary, nor have I brought it up). I am tempted to ask Dad if he ever played a superhero in underclothes before but, I suppose, he was not bombarded with images of Superman, Spiderman, et. al, as Ian and I have been, so it is unlikely. You never know. Worth asking about.
I thought it was funny that Ian said "I AM... UNDERWEAR!!" rather than "Underman" or "Underboy". As he was launching grenades at me whilst I was washing dishes I concluded that direct and to the point wins the day. He wasn't just wearing underwear, not merely drawing his superpowers from the underwear. He was underwear. Very Zen. Very Superheroe.
He is...UNDERWEAR!!!
Afterthought: What could he do with old, dirty underwear to stop crime? Maybe he's got something here!!
