[ WP ] Write the superhero origin story of your username

Oy, you there. Yes, you. Come closer. You ever hear o' that feller sweetfingersmcgee. Sure you have. He's a god damned national treasure. But he was n't always that way. 
 
 Born in the sewers in 1902, Michael Gene Bobbit should have never had a chance to be anybody in his life. He came from a family of gypsies that came to the USA by the way of the secret sewer pipes beneath the Atlantic. Thought only to be a myth by modern day scholars, these sewer pipes used to drain all the shit from Europe to the US. In the early days of the Republic, our forefathers ceased the flow of European excrement in the hopes of fermenting it in to a liquor. But that's a story for another time. 
 
 Little Michael Bobbit crawled from the sewers for the first time in 1917. As traffic zoomed overhead, he used his freakish sewer strength to remove the 200 pound manhole cover. The bright sun blasted upon his untainted eyes. A world bursting with color lay before him. He was unaware things could exist without a brown tint. He stood in the street for a moment, feeling the warmth of the asphalt creep up his legs, much like the feeling of urine creeping down. 
 
 `` GETTOUTTATHAFUCKINROAD!'' 
 
 Little Bobbit reeled. He had never heard human speech before, and never a sound so angry as that. Before he could think anything else he was struck by a police cruiser. They had assumed the brown tint to his skin meant he was a foreigner. 
 
 Bobbit had never felt such a powerful force all at once, the feeling of being struck by a two thousand pound vehicle. He felt his body ragdoll and the thought of how uncomfortable it was went through his mind. In freefall, his orientation turned towards the earth. It rushed to meet him with darkness. 
 
 He awoke to beauty. Or what Micheal Bobbit perceived as beuty. He was laying on his back in a piercingly bright room. Two men wearing equally bright clothing walked in. 
 
 `` Yeah, apparently he was just standing in the middle of Times Square covered in shit. Weird thing is none of it is his. It's almost as if his culture encouraged it. It's a miracle he's surfaced this long without getting some shit-borne illness.'' The man finished and glanced toward Bobbit. He leaned closer and noticed he was awake. 
 
 `` You my friend may just solve all our problems. The human race is at a crossroads. Overpopulation, famine, and war have been plaguing us for some time. But now, we have superbugs. These bacteria are unstoppable and are laying waste to humanity at a pandemic level. Like I said, we are at a crossroads. One option is to find a way to beat the bugs, the other is to find a way to hide from them. Neither seemed obtainable. Not until now. Tell me, lad, of the nether shit world from whence you came. I believe a lifetime of living and growing with bacteria, adapting to them and becoming one of them, has offered you an immunity to any all bacteria upon this planet. I believe hidden within you are the secrets that may just release us from our fragile forms to a new realm of living, albeit covered in excrement of all shapes and forms. 
 
 Before Bobbit could react to anything, the man lunged forward and grabbed his grimy hand, still covered in shit. 
 
 `` Just as I suspected,'' he started. `` It seems our little friend here has formed a biofilm around his body. These shitty little fingers are the answers to our prayers. Without further ado the man began to suckle upon the fingers. He began to retch but was able to keep from vomiting, eyes watering. After what seemed like hours, the man collapsed, dead. He could not handle the shitforms upon the boy.
