Again, Mortimer knocks on the door marked 611, and again, his mother answers, this time pulling it open only enough for their eyes to meet. Mortimer has inherited his mother’s pale shade of blue, and the two stare ice at each other for a moment.
“Mother, I’m bored.”
“Come on in.” Amy holds the door open for her son, and he steps over her threshold into her modest one-bedroom apartment.
Though it’s a small space, each time Mortimer visits his mother’s place, it seems larger than last he looked. The surveillance cameras must make it appear smaller. Amy walks into her kitchen while Mortimer heads for the living room. The two are separated only by a cluttered, wrap-around counter.
“So you’re bored.” She pulls a couple of mugs out of a cabinet, clears space for them on the countertop, then sets them down.
Mortimer loves his mother. She is always so direct about things. “Yes.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” Mortimer exclaims, throwing himself onto an armchair. He has never been bored before, and is still coming to terms with the idea. “Normally I can just think of something I want to do, but everything I think of now just seems pointless.”
“Have you thought about getting a girlfriend?”
“Mother, I’m in an existential crisis!”
She frowns as she opens the refrigerator and pulls out a carton of milk. “Doesn’t look like it to me. Looks you’re existing just fine. How about a boyfriend?”
“Mother, I’ve told you before: I’m too rational for love.” Mortimer dons his own frown. “Emotions are irrational, especially love. If anyone ever loved me–which I find unlikely to begin with–I couldn’t reciprocate, because I don’t like irrational people.”
Amy pauses as she pours milk into each mug, but says nothing. She places both mugs in the microwave and waits. For a minute, the only sound is that of the microwave, it’s turntable is broken, and it jerks the mugs back and forth.
While the milk is heating, our villain comes to a realization. “I don’t need someone to love, I need someone to hate. I need someone who thwarts me every step of the way. I need someone who understands my thinking and wants to put a stop to it I need a hero.”
When the milk is done, Amy adds hot chocolate mix to each, and the two of them drink silently in the living room.