This was inspired by Ziggy's line about different ways to vote, and then...I'm not sure exactly what happened. My brain wasn't working, but my fingers were typing, so I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Disclaimer: I only own Bobby, Eddy, and History of the West...unless thats actually a real book, in which case I don't. Ziggy and all other Power Rangers related things do not belong to me, as I am simply stealing before stealthily returning with no damage done and no profit made.
The sun was shining outside and all traces of the snow that had taken over the town were gone for the first time in months. Even the dirty grey snow that had lay untouched on the sides of lawns and streets had finally melted away in the early morning. Kids of all ages were running about the streets in shorts and skirts, relieved to be free of their mittens and snow caps. They picked up tufts of grass and threw them instead of snowballs and some girls sat in a circle, happily making flower necklaces. They were thankful that it was a Saturday, so they at least had the weekend to enjoy their newfound sunshine. Most kids anyway.
One teen sat in his room with 'The History of The West' laying open on his bed and various other history books were sprawled haplessly on the floor and on his desk. The light filtered through his window and hit a pile of books, on top of which rested a library book on Spartans. Ziggy Glover had just finished reading it and had set it aside to return once he was done with the rest of the books. He only glanced up when he heard the spray of water from a hose, followed by a girl's delighted shriek of protest. Frowning, he wished to join his classmates, but knew he wouldn't be welcome, and so he returned his attention to the page that was describing a cowboy's attire. Ziggy found relief in these pages of long forgotten heroes and stories from years gone by.
History was his favorite subject, and the only class he was excelling in. He couldn't do math equations so save his life, because somehow two plus two ended up being three and the minus sign always ended up being a plus for some reason or another. Science was even worse, since even the teachers didn't want to risk being his lab partner in case something should go awry. Gym was…well…it was gym. He was by far the scrawniest boy, which didn't help in any way with his self confidence when he stepped up to the plate while learning baseball and the kid pitching was Bobby Jenkins, his personal bully. That one had ended up with a black eye and a trip to the nurse's office. English was alright, as it allowed him to express himself, but only on paper. If he were to voice his opinions on 'Great Expectations', he was pretty sure he'd end up with a bloody nose from Eddy, whose girlfriend was in his English class, and she would tell him that Ziggy had cheated off her notes.
But history was different. All facts of things that had already happened. All stories told and retold until they were finally written. He knew they weren't happy stories. In fact, most were tragedies made to look brighter or darker, depending on who had written them. Because history was His Story; the winners wrote what happened, which was why Ziggy had ended up getting suspended when Bobby beat him up during career week. And yet, there were still heroes and villains in history, and the good guys always won…because they were the ones who wrote the story.
Despite that, history was better than comic books. In history, even the bad guys had their stories told to some point of accuracy, and they weren't always made out to be bad, like the Native Americans. It was different in comics, where the villains were never really justified and only made out to be evil. In comic books, the heroes were cliché, wore bright colors, and were gorgeous, while the villains were snarky, were dressed in shades of black and gray, and reminded you of the Wicked Witch of the West. If that were true, Ziggy was pretty sure he was a villain and Bobby was a superhero. Unlike the comics, history was reality. Close your eyes, spin in a circle, and touch somebody's face, and you would have no way of knowing the good guys from the bad guys. There were no masks to hide heroes and no warts to hinder the villains. Everybody was real! And they weren't fighting to save Metropolis, they were fighting for the freedom generations before them had established. Ziggy respected that. He respected reality.
His attention got pulled once more from the book, which was now describing the first Pony Express riders, by the sound of the TV downstairs. His younger sister was flipping through the channels until resting on a news report. Ziggy clearly made out the reporter describing the latest fight won by the Power Rangers, which made his frown deepen. Sure he liked them; they saved the world on a daily basis, but at the same time, he couldn't help associating them the heroes in comic books. He'd never wish them gone, because obviously, they saved the world. What bothered him was, nobody ever really knew what they were saving the world from. Sometimes he doubted even the Power Rangers knew. What if they were saving the world from the best thing that could have ever happened to it?
Then again, that's pretty much was soldiers did, right? Fought for what they believed was right, to protect and serve their country. So Ziggy would give them that; they were fighting for what they believed was right. Sighing as his sister turned up the volume, he gave up his search of history and closed the book before making his way down to her and the now blaring TV. As he watched the Rangers fighting, he couldn't help smiling in awe, but he already knew three things. He wanted to be a good guy, he would like to make history, but he never, ever, wanted to be a Power Rangers because something inside him knew that his story would be go beyond the pages of comics, and even the feats of the Rangers he now watched.
Uuumm...*crickets* Honestly, I'm not sure how this thing formed, but I hope you liked reading it! Please leave a review/constructive criticism on your way out. =]