Ice-Man

The Celsius soared forty. The sun turned naughty.

"Here melts my ice-cream," the little child would scream.

Tired of heat the people prayed, and thus, the God obeyed.

Brushing past the clouds, gliding like a star, emerged the superhero, from somewhere very far.

Dressed in white, and goggles dark, he wasn't Peter Parker, neither Kent Clark.

With a flash, he produced ice, people smiled, and said he was nice.

"Who are you, Mr Hottie?" asked a young cutie.

"Don't call me hot, that I am not. I am cold, I am bold, with an anti-summer plan, my name Ice-Man."


This 99 word fiction is shared with Blogging from A to Z April Challenge - I.