The sweet, tangy sensation of mayonnaise. That soft, spicy undercurrent of sweet chilli sauce. The smoky deliciousness of grilled chicken, mixed with the juicy freshness of tomato and lettuce. And the cheese. Oh god, the cheese. Peter Parker had never gotten lucky, but that was okay. This kebab was so much better.
Sitting on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge, he savoured each bite as he cast his gaze over the borough they called Queens. He liked it well enough. It was, after all, where he lived. The trees were nice. The air was nice. The people were nice, most of the time. But there was just something about it that he couldn’t put his finger on, something that hurt the very essence of his soul… Oh, yeah. The buildings. He couldn’t swing on them. They were too damn short.
The kebab vendor was its only redeeming quality.
“Hey, kid!” yelled some guy from below, standing on the sidewalk.
Peter, halfway through another mouthful, said, “Hmm?”
“Get off my roof!”
Peter chewed. He chewed some more. Then he swallowed. “Hey, no way, man. Finders keepers. I got here first.” He took another bite. “Wow, this kebab tastes good.”
“But that’s my roof!” whined Some Guy, “My apartment’s roof!”
Chew. Chew. Swallow. “Nice.”
“So get off!”
“Hey, listen, guy,” he paused to wipe some sauce from his mouth, “I’m just trying to eat here.”
“Yeah, well, you better not get any on-- ”
“--Your roof, yeah I get it. Now please, I’m almost done. Can’t you just learn to share?”
“If you don’t get off on the count of five, I’m calling the cops!”
“Now sir,” Peter said, shuffling on his behind away from the roof’s edge, “That really won’t be necessary.” Out of Some Guy’s view, he removed his backpack, extracting from it its contents. Suit: check. Mask: check. Web shooters: check. “Because,” he continued, hurriedly putting said items on, “I,” he stood up, in full view of the street below, “Have taken care of it.”
“Spiderman!” exclaimed Some Guy in surprise.
“That’s right. Have a cookie.”
“You got that kid off the roof?”
“Yup. You’re welcome.”
“So, uh… how about you get off it, too?”
“They don’t do this to Captain America…” muttered Spidey, dejected. Half-eaten kebab in one hand, backpack in the other, he leapt to the neighbouring roof, turning to address Some Guy for one last time. “You happy?”
“Yes,” said Some Guy, “Thank you.” A smile on his face, he entered his building, not bothering to grace Peter with anything other than the bird.
None of this would have happened if I was on the Avengers… thought he, lifting his mask to take yet another bite of his delicious chow.
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