At this time, I considered myself a murderer, vowing that when the dust settled from this horrific experience and when I was older, I would try to make up for my dastardly deed by perhaps saving a baby bird. Saving a baby bird, I thought, would not only make a great headline and please my parents, but would also appease my guilt feelings by being able to save something 90,000 times the size of a fly.

Well, many years later the day came when opportunity knocked. I was 31 years old and I was invited to a friends big "3-oh" birthday party. I think her family invited every last friend and relative they had, plus of course, we old schoolmates, who were still around and living in the area. Anyway, it was summertime in the city, and a gathering of approximately 40 people were all sitting around the backyard laughing and eating, etc. All of a sudden, one of the guests noticed a large predator bird circling a nest with a baby bird in it. It was clear this little bird was about to be baby food for this predator. The nest, by the way, was perched-yes, you guessed it, between the outside wall of the apartment building next door and a drainpipe. Well, I don't know what took over, but Mary Marvel stepped out of my body and a flash back of the murdered horsefly enveloped me. The next thing I knew the predator bird came swooping down to attack the nest, only to knock both it and the baby bird onto the ground. My cape and I with the big 'M' on it flew over to the nest and before I could say, "Mother Mary" I was on the phone with the local Fire Department. Meanwhile, I never clued in my friend's parents. They only got the joke when two fire trucks pulled up outside their house and men were crawling all over the place with ladders. I couldn't understand why so many came, although I did vaguely remember saying I was calling from a party. Anyway, I go running up to meet them, as if I owned the place, and pointed to the nest, the bird (which was amazingly still alive), and the predator bird.

By now, the party revelers had stopped reveling and everybody's attention was focused on the heroics of these fine, strong men raising the ladder, lifting the nest and the baby bird to safety. Upon their descent they received a well deserved round of applause, except from my friend and her parents, who could care less about the workings of Mother Nature. The fact that they had prepared for weeks for this special occasion, which by now was in total chaos, had also managed to go by the firemen and I. We had performed our duty and glad of it!

The men and the trucks had gone, and I secretly threw off my Mary Marvel outfit with the "M" on it, as I didn't need it anymore. At long last I had finally made up for my five-year-old misdeed. So, feeling light of heart and kind of gloating inwardly about what I had accomplished, I sauntered around the yard accepting any praise and adulation I could get, when suddenly I heard a collective gasp. Everybody seemed to be looking upward. "Oh, no!!" The predator bird had swooped down and snatched the baby like it was nothing. Shocked, I slowly and sheepishly looked all around me at the looks on the faces of what seemed like throngs of people staring at me with hatred and disappointment in their eyes. More than anything you can imagine my desire to still be wearing my Mary Marvel outfit, although, I knew now what the 'M' on it really stood for. It stood for "You Miserable, Murdering Horsefly Monster.

Needless to say, I swiftly took leave of the party knowing full well that neither Mother Mary nor I would ever be invited back. I knew in a flash what I had to do. By the next evening I was at my first M.A. meeting where I heard myself saying, "Hi, my name is Roberta and I'm a murderer."