If I could have any super power in the world, or you know the fictional parallel universes where super powers exist, I would chose shape shifting. I could be anything and go anywhere. Unfortunately, that’s not how super powers work. You don’t just decide what power you want then walk headlong into whatever scientific calamity you think will achieve it, and I mean really where does one find radioactive spider webs or ooze anyway. Every movie, comic, or cartoon series, which I have dutifully studied in regards to this subject, suggests that receiving a super power is nothing more than happenstance, and more often than not manifests in ways the individual most certainly did not want or foresee. Take Superman, for example, while I’m sure he has come to terms with his super awesomeness I would wager good money that he would happily give it all up to live a normal life on Krypton with his parents. Me, I wish I was a shape shifter, but instead my super power is causing word vomit in others. That’s right you can call me…Ipecac.

Its not glamorous, I’ll grant you that, but so few superheroes have lives we truly would want for our own. Think about it. On the surface being Batman sounds great, neat-o gadgets, wealth, and fame, but behind the black leather armor he stands a broken man, tortured and alone. Nine days out of ten you might make that bargain, but that tenth day must be a real shit storm, sorry Brucey. I guess what I’m trying to say is, that even as screwed up and unappealing as it is word vomit isn’t the worst thing I could induce. Besides after people spill their crazy, creepy guts to me the only thing requiring a good scrubbing is my mind, not that I have found an effective way to rid myself of all the unloaded factoids I have become privy to, but I digress.

Bullshit you say, well that’s fair, I guess, but that’s just because you don’t know me. So allow me to explain. I consider myself nice, even friendly, though at a very superficial level, and I do, often, actually pay attention when people talk to me. Oh, and I, um, seem to have the words tell me your deep dark secrets tattooed on my forehead. Which I don’t remember consciously attaching to my person. However, the words must be there, in some indelible ink that only others can see, because people share way too much information with me all the time. Perhaps I smile too much, have a caring face, or make uncomfortable amounts of direct eye contact. Whatever the reason 15 minutes with me seems to be comparable to 15 seconds of water boarding, people feel compelled to tell me things, weird, I cannot believe I met you 15 minutes ago and now your telling me this, things. I have yet to determine if this is from fear, as in here take my horrible truth and leave me alone, or imagined connections, such as I feel like I have known you forever please share my terrible thoughts with me friend, but either way unsolicited information is exchanged.

Ipecac, you might think, what could people possibly be telling you after such a short time that would be so surprising, and you’re right to wonder. I mean most people barely make it past greetings and weather in a quarter of an hour, right, well not with me as a conversation catalyst. Within a span of no more than 20 minutes a woman, who claimed to be from my subdivision, once had me on the phone with her mother to assure the said mother that she, the strange woman I had just met, wasn’t crazy. Let it suffice to say that a conversation such as this would be uncomfortable even if you knew those involved, which I did not. Then there was my neighbor who over the last half of my lease would share her uber personal medical history with me when she caught me taking my dog out to relieve himself. Most shocking, I think, was the description of her battle with vaginismus, a rare small vagina disorder . That’s right I had known her for less than one year and durring that time we spoke briefly, in an intermittent pattern, but she still thought it was a good idea to explain her treatment regiment on the stoop of my apartment. And I could go on. So…yeah, I wouldn’t say that I had exaggerated the word vomit thing, if anything I down played my crazy person magnetism.


I just know more of them than you do.


If you want to hear more of Ipecac’s adventures please like this post or comment below.

I would love to hear from you. Do you have an innate ability, or juicy story* you kind of wish you hadn’t heard?

*Share responsibly please use pseudonyms, thanks 🙂