“Do you think any super-powers would be useful in real life?” Keith asked David.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“Well, like, how often would having super-strength come in handy?”
“I, uh, huh,” David stopped to ponder. “I helped my friend move last month. I could’ve used some super-strength then.”
“See, but if you had super-strength,” Keith pointed out, “all your friends would want you to help them move, every time.”
“Fuck. Yeah, it’d like owning a pickup truck.”
“Or, like, what if you were invulnerable?”
“Okay.”
“It’s not like there are a bunch of people out there trying to shoot or stab you.”
“Yeah,” David admitted sadly. “Bruce Willis was unbreakable in Unbreakable and he didn’t even notice until he was forty-five years old.”
“Exactly! It would be nice to never get sick, but it really wouldn’t affect your day-to-day life.”
“Well, what about shape-shifting?” suggested David.
Keith wrinkled his nose. “I’d be worried that I’d be bad at it. Or that I’d forget what I’d look like. Or what if you had to be awake to hold your shape.”
“You’d have to sleep in a bucket.”
“Like Odo.”
“Super-speed?”
“I dunno. Friction issues? Chafing? Metabolism stuff? Going through sneakers really fast?”
“Teleporting?”
“Say I teleport home, but my wife moved the furniture. Suddenly, I’ve got a davenport where my lungs should be.”
“Flying?”
“Hmm. I’ll put that on the list, but we should brainstorm other things to ask the genie for before that,” Keith said, setting down the lamp.