Grammar-Man’s face fell as the Mayor continued to grin. “The door’s that way,” said the Mayor, gesturing, “don’t let it hit you in the behind on your way out.”

“On your behind,” Grammar-Man muttered as he shuffled toward the door. It swung inward revealing Captain Perfection.

“Hello…gentlemen,” Captain Perfection orated, nodding a perfectly proportional amount first to the Mayor, and then to Grammar-Man. Grammar-Man grunted, not sparing energy to engage Captain Perfection.

“Captain Perfection!” the Mayor beamed. “Perfect timing, as always!”

“Of course…Mr. Mayor.” Captain Perfection stood, hands on hips, legs just shoulder width apart, in his gleaming white jumpsuit, and flashed a blinding grin at the Mayor. He had no insignia, he didn’t need one. The hair, golden brown and coifed with right amount of fluff and form, brown sparkling eyes, gold glittering utility belt, saffron super-sneakers. It was all perfect. “Now why…have you called …me here…today?”

Grammar-Man rolled his eyes and walked out.