Ten-year-old Barry pointed her laser gun at the bubble-headed alien. As her beam blasted against the creature’s body, its gray guts splattered all over her white leather pants. What kind of a girl wore white leather pants?
She had her own dress code and the coolest black gloves in the whole fifth grade class. Barry had way huger biceps than anyone else in her school, even more than Principle Schwarzenheimer who used to be a professional wrestler.
Barry had her way of walking, too. The sun-walk, which was a million billion, no, a trillion times better than the moonwalk. Most importantly, Barry had a certain flair for killing aliens. She had blasted away hundreds of the invaders mercilessly a week after they had arrived. If an alien tried to say, “We come in peace,” Barry would shoot it before, “We.”
Barry knew not to trust them because she had read every sci-fi comic she could get her hands on. She fought aliens day and night, never sleeping so she could save the world and get the boy of her dreams—once she decided she liked them and there was a cure for cooties.
The aliens had already destroyed Los Angeles. Barry never cared for Hollywood, because she was too busy being cool. Barry was seven—no eight-feet-tall, and her humongous pistol made her seem even taller. All of the sexy men especially her favorite pop stars wanted her. Oh, and all of the women hated her out of jealousy. Barry didn’t care about haters—just her laser gun and killing aliens.
She shot aliens one after the other after the other after the other.
“No! Don’t shoot me, Barry. Please. Ugh.”
Barry saw the knife—she always saw. Everything, except for Los Angeles, was safe as long as Barry was around. Once five—no twenty-five aliens surrounded her. She shot each one seventeen times.
Everyone at school wished they were as rad as Barry. “You’re the best, Barry,” said some extremely pretty boy she’d never paid any attention to. She wasn’t too good for her fans. Barry signed a kid’s cast right before she shot another alien between the eyes. That was when the Mother Ship Delta appeared.
“It’s ginormous,” said one of Barry’s beloved fans.
The ship was bigger than the whole planet, maybe even the sun? Yes, the sun. Even Barry’s mom and the police and firemen circling the area looked frozen in fear. Not Barry. She knew what to do.
“You’re so awesome, Barry,” said the most popular girl in school. “You’re the most popular now, Barry.”
Barry faced the ship and did the best backflip anyone had ever seen. She took the whole entire thing down with a single blast from the special cosmic trigger on her laser gun. She blew a kiss into the barrel. The ship scattered into a bazillion pieces. Even her haters were saved.
Crowds of grateful citizens from every country and all over the Internet shouted Barry’s name with glee. Everything was smiles and lollipops; until Barry spun her laser gun around her finger, caught the grip, and shot an alien that hid in the debris.
Barry always saw.
Those monsters had nothing on her. Barry didn’t even need her gun. She knew one-million-and-one types of karate styles and would master all of them by the time she finished college and graduated with a degree in rocket science and super duper space travel and probably doctor school too.
Barry was more than just a martial arts champion. She had Tyrannosaurus Rex strength. Word was she killed an alien with a roundhouse kick. She was no Chuck Norris, but Barry Power Berrowitz was one bad mothe—
“Barry, time to get out of the basement and eat dinner.”
“Darn, Mom, I was just about to get to the part where I saved the world and got the boy of my dreams.”
“You can save the world and get the boy of your dreams some other time, sweetie. Come upstairs. We’re all waiting.”
“But Mom, I wanna keep writing my sci-fi.”
“Now, Barry, you know how I feel about you calling me Butt Mom. Move it or no dessert.”
And Barry saved the Earth and married the most handsome boy, ever. The mayor—no, the president of the world gave her a gigantic key that could unlock every door in the entire galaxy. Everyone cheered her name as she rode off on her flying unicorn.