Travel has become one of those frenetic activities I no longer engage in, so I asked a stringer in Metropolis to seek out Superman, see how he's doing these days.
Jimmy, no not that Jimmy, found the old superhero on a park bench. The red cape was tightly wrapped around his shoulders, sunny day but a bit brisk, you see. The great man was feeding the pigeons flocking around his feet. A big bronze-and-white bird swooped in for a landing, sailed over Superman's left shoe and dropped a bit of whitener right on the toe of the brogan.
"Not talking to you, Sonny."
"Would you talk to me if I told you I'm a news reporter looking for an update on our favorite hero?"
"Well, are you?"
Jimmy is not necessarily quick on his feet, nor in his processing, either. He stammered a bit, then as though someone threw a switch the light came on. "Yes, sir. I am."
"Whata ya wanna know?"
"Do you ever want to get back into the fray, so to speak? Catch some bad guys?
"Nah. Too many of them; catch one, five spring up to take his place. Or hers."
"But what will become of us, then?"
"Don't ask me. Dozens, hundreds of doomsday scenarios out there. Pick one."
"Do you feel as though your career has been an exercise in futility, then?"
"Pretty much. Why don't you just write up whatever you want. You seem to have all the answers, anyway."
"Sorry. Just trying to get the story. Have you any advice?"
"Yes, take the sunshine, feed the pigeons, wipe the kaka off my shoe, and hit the road."