Challenge #01003-B271: A Real Powderkeg

As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero. - Vaarsuvius -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: "And that would be wrong." :D ]

One would think that the ability to make things explode when you were feeling embarrassed would be a curse. Possibly because people immediately think of blowing up the person making them cringe.

I didn't think of it. You thought of it. What does that say about you?

Being socially awkward is a real problem for me. I prefer not to talk on phones. I don't like shopping because people going off script is...

Well, it's dangerous, isn't it?

At least I can feel it coming, now. Not like all those times in High School when I made squares of linoleum explode because that was what I was looking at when the bullies were taunting me. Or that one time when I blew up Marvin Gaponski's brand new trainers because he was trying to force me to let him finger me or he'd tell the whole school I'd given him the clap.

He's okay. For limited definitions of okay. The school counsellor worked it out after I made his skittles machine explode. And Marvin can walk now. His football career wasn't very ruined, anyway. He spent most of his games warming the bench or getting called off for violence.

Marvin's learned to be a lot nicer to girls, now.

I don't go out a lot. It's safer. But when I have to go out? I wear warning labels. Those "explosive contents" T-shirts? I don't wear them for fun.

But it has its uses. I can focus my energies when some unwanted douchebro is trying to mack on me. Make something nearby go up and make my escape while he's distracted.

My auntie keeps telling me to grow a thicker skin. That stuff like this happens to every woman. I wonder who made her submit to being fingered or slandered in high school. I wonder how many times she's been negged by some sleazy asshole who just wanted into her pants. I never ask how many times the entire school made her walk a gauntlet of verbal abuse.

I try to tell her that it shouldn't happen at all. To anyone. But she just goes on and on at me until the phone explodes.

At least the people in Demolition like me. They get my energies up in the sweetest ways. With actual compliments. And real jokes. And they cheer when something goes up on cue.

And on date nights with Lynda? We go out into the darkness and I make fireworks as she cuddles me. Life's okay for me.

Mostly.

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