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Artwork by happyaspie.
Tuesday’s patrol was slow. So slow that Peter had been bouncing between the same few buildings for the hour without so much as a twitch from his spider-senses. He knew he should probably be appreciative for the lack of crime but having super powers and nothing to exercise them with was boring. He’d just about given up on crime fighting for the day when a minute tingle flared just below the base of his skull.
It took him a moment to identify the danger. When he did, he sighed. It was a speeding car. Not his typical crime demographic but he figured he may as well try to slow the person down. He swung down towards the road with the intent of gaining the drivers attention. He flipped, flailed his arms back and forth and shouted at the top of his lungs. Although whoever was behind the wheel didn’t seem to notice. Or care. He simply picked up speed and much to Peter’s horror started to run a red light.
Peter reacted quickly, grabbing the car by the bumper and digging his heels into the asphalt. The car slowed significantly but it still managed to clip the very back corner of another vehicle. The speedy driver tried gunning the engine, in a clear attempt to get away, but that’s to Peter held on tight.
When the man in the car finally realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he frantically jumped out of his car and ran towards the back to investigate. Peter propped his elbow onto the trunk and waited to be spotted.
“Wow. Speeding and an attempted hit and run all in one night?” he said the moment the man came into full view. “Not cool, man.”
The man’s jaw dropped and his eyed comically widened. “Spider-Man?” he asked, as if he couldn’t wholly believe what he was witnessing.
“The one and only!” Peter replied, while bringing both of his thumbs towards his chest.
“Shit!” the man exclaimed. His hand flew up to his hair in panic. “Are you going to call the cops?”
Peter looked towards the woman, who had been in the other car. She was completely unharmed, but there was significant damage to the back end of her vehicle. The bumper was mostly detached and It looked as though the license plate was hanging on for dear life. She was already on her phone rapidly speaking to someone in Spanish. “I think that nice lady over there already called,” he said after some thought.
“Shit!” The man repeated.
Peter shrugged and looked back and forth between the angry woman and the decidedly frazzled young man. “Well, you did sort of trash her car,” he assessed.
Unfazed, the man began to pace. “I can’t afford another ticket,” he strained but Peter couldn’t quite sympathize.
“But you have a job and if you weren’t-” he began to chastize, then tilted his head in curiosity. “Wait. How many tickets do you have?”
Rather than answer, the man’s head snapped towards the blue flashing lights that were quickly heading in their direction. “I gotta get out of here,” he shouted, then darted towards the driver's side door. However, Peter was swift to shoot a web.
“Yoink!” he quipped as the web made contact with the man’s back, causing him to stagger backward. “Sorry, Mr. Pizza Dude. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to stick around,” he said, pausing momentarily as he grinned beneath the mask. “Get it? Stick around?”
When the man didn’t seem to find the play on words nearly as amusing as he did, Peter huffed. Then he turned towards the closest building and readied himself to shoot a web. “On that note,” he cheerily announced. “I need to get going!”
“Wait!” the man shouted from here he was webbed to the side of his car.
“I’m not unsticking you,” Peter blandly replied. “You’re a bad guy.”
“No it’s just-” the man hesitantly began. “I still have one more delivery for the night.”
Peter vacantly stared at the man, slowly blinking the lenses of the mask for maximum effect.
“If I don’t deliver it, I don’t get paid!” the man shouted next, but Peter remained stoic. “And that poor customer won’t get their pizza?”
Sighing, Peter replied, “I suppose that would be tragic.” Then he snatched the pizza themed hat right off of the top of the man's head and placed it onto his own. “Guess I’ll have to deliver it for you. The address on the ticket?”
The man sighed defeatedly.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Peter chirped. There was a single pizza in the passenger's seat. On top of it was a slip of paper with all the order information. “Hey! You were so close!” Peter said as he read the destination. “I know that street, it’s just around the corner!”
With the pizza securely in one hand, Peter shot a web with the other. “Adiós, señora! I hope you get your car repaired really soon!” he called out as he gracefully swung towards the nearby townhomes. It took a minute for him to locate the precise unit. When he did he skipped up to the porch and rang the bell.
“Spider-Man?” the person answering the door confusedly inquired.
“That’s what it says on my hero card!” Peter replied, then laughed lightly. “Or it would if I had one- But right now, I’m just your friendly neighborhood pizza delivery man!”
The person offered a mildly confused ‘thanks’ when Peter placed the box into their hands. Then with a little wave, he accepted the small cash tip and took off towards the top of the rooftop.
As it were, delivering pizza was kind of fun. And for a second or two, he wondered if Spider-Man could get a side job swinging pizzas through the city. The little bit of added money would certainly be nice. ...But only on the slow days.