Brown-Blonde Man

Please allow me to introduce myself...
The hair on my arms is different colors. Not from hair to hair, but from arm to arm. My left arm is brown. My right is blond.
Before you start formulating reasons (i.e. the arm nearest the window is bleached by the sun when you drive.) let me further explain that my chest and underarms are the same way. I asked my doctor about it, and her bedside manner failed her for a split second as she formulated a medical jargon cover-up. Her eyebrows shot up for a second before she regained her composure and started throwing the word "pigment" around a lot.
Now I'm not one to spend nights thinking about Alien Visits or JFK theories, but I can tell when I'm in the middle of an International Conspiracy. The Man can no longer keep me down! I have a Super Power!
I am much like Superman in his Ice Fortress, realizing for the first time the magnitude of his ability and responsibility. As Brown-Blonde Man, I have a duty to use my ability for good.
I am just now becoming aware of my super powers: For example, I can eat a box of Fig Newtons in a single sitting.
So far, the Hall of Justice has denied my requests for joining their ranks. Apparently the team doesn't need my superpower right now. So for now, Brown-Blonde Man is working solo. Watch out Evil-doers!!
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Copyright © 1997 Prehensile Tales.

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