Feeling like the only bucket in a sea of pails, Rom Soriano stood impatiently among the dozen Sons of Zorro in the WBLT-FM reception area.  He wanted to get it over with.  But from the second he and Cassandra had heard Howard's summons, he'd known it was something he wanted to do.  And Cassandra, despite her cold feet a few moments ago,  had insisted on coming along.
     It had been almost a Keystone comedy, the way the two had dashed from the Colonnades, driven up Park Avenue to Rom's apartment — where Rom had changed into black jeans and gray pullover shirt and grabbed his scarf, mask and a standard black shirt to don later — and, at Cassandra's suggestion, walked briskly back to Park and boarded an already-crowded City Subway car — No. 1! — and stood for the nine-minute run to Penn Station.
     They'd grabbed coffee and corn muffins and made it up to Track 1 just as the 7:50 Jersey Transit train pulled in.  They'd found an empty seat — facing rearward, which they both hated — and breakfasted while sharing an abandoned New York Post.
     There'd been no photo of the Son of Zorro on Page One, but a 48-point teaser headline sent readers to a "Zorro Watch" wrap-up on Page 12 that detailed the vigilante's appearances.  The writing had been hyperbolic but basically accurate.  The lead editorial ("For More Zorros") had offered qualified praise for the vigilante's spirit but had urged citizens to work with the police department's Neighborhood Watch program if they wanted to fight the bad guys.  Rom and Cassandra had laughed at the stirring conclusion: "Throw off your mask, brave urban warrior, and walk into the light of legitimacy."
     They'd pulled into Penn Station, New York, at exactly 8:16 and dashed up to Eighth Avenue and into a taxi.  Getting uptown had been easy, the few blocks crosstown agonizingly slow.  But they'd arrived just before nine and casually walked — hand in hand, as per Cassandra's clever window dressing — past a small crowd of the curious gathered at the entrance of the modern glass skyscraper whose 11th floor housed the WBLT studios.  Surprisingly, there had been no cops, nomedia.  What vigilante would be stupid enough to show up, Rom wondered.
     Now Rom took a deep breath and turned his attention to the speaker mounted high on the wall near the studio door.  Howard was wrapping up a commercial for a car dealership whose owner he had invited to his Long Island home for dinner and swimming.
     "And so Leo comes out to go swimming in this, like, way-too-small bathing suit.  You know the ones the French beach boys wear on the Riviera, Robin?"
     "The low-cut that doesn't cover the buns?"
     "Exactly.  And here comes Leo, and he looks like, like a sumo wrestler, a hairy, bald, Jewish sumo wrestler.  And you know, Robin, a man's package sticks out in those little trunks."
     "I think they're designed to do that."
     "And let me tell you, he's no Johnny Wadd."
     "Well, neither are you.  You keep saying that."
     "Yeah, well, I'm considerate enough to wear baggy shorts to, to camouflage it, if you will.  And I don't go around with my crack hanging out of my trunks."
     "No!  He didn't!"
     "That little suit was halfway down his ass, Robin.  And there's nothing more disgusting.  Let me tell all you fat men out there: Forget the stylish bathing suits.  They don't look stylish when they're on you.  I don't mean to be unkind."
     "This is a public service announcement," said Robin.
     "This is a public service.   Gary, what do you want?   He's standing there waving his hand like he knows the answer to something.  What is it? . . . Melody?  What line is she on? . . . The private line?  Who gave her the private number?"
     Robin sighed.  "Our private line isn't so private anymore."
     "It never has been.  Did we finish Lewis Motors?  It's Halloween Goblin Days, and you'll be ‘goblin' up the bargains at Lewis Motors, on the Sunrise Highway in Rockville Center.  Who the hell writes these commercials?"
     "It ain't Shakespeare," said Robin.
     "Let's see what Melody wants.  Isn't she supposed to be here?"  He opened the phone connection. "Aren't you supposed to be here?  Melody?"
     "Oh.  Sorry, Howard.  I had the phone down and was listening on the radio delay."
     "Where are you?"
     "I'm with the mayor, in her limo.  We're only about three blocks from the studio, but we're trying to get crosstown, so it'll be another few minutes."
     "Don't those limos have sirens?  Tell Sergeant Chauffeur to blow the siren.  What the hell's the fun in being mayor if you don't get a car with a siren?"
     "I'll pass your suggestion along, Howard.  The mayor's been nice enough to drive me to my apartment and the studio."
     "Excellent.  Why don't you bring her up?"
     "Hold on. I'll ask her."
     After a brief pause, the modulated, school-teacher voice of Mayor Carole Fazio came on the line.  "Howard?"
     "Mayor Fazio?"
     "Yes.  Good morning, Howard.  Good morning, Robin."
     "Thank you for joining us," said Robin.
     "Your honor, it is indeed an honor," said Howard.  "To take time out of your busy schedule to talk with us — it's just fabulous.  Ladies and gentlemen, what other radio show does the mayor appear on?"
     Robin laughed.  "Pretty much all of them, Howard.  This is an election year."
     "Howard," said Fazio, "I wanted to say I enjoy listening to your show.  There is nobody like you in this town, and I'm a big fan of yours."
     "Thanks, your honor.  That's gonna cost you some votes, you know."
     "Hah.  What doesn't?"
     "Good point.  So you're spending the day with Melody."
     "And she with me, yes."
     "Is that OK with you, or is it a big pain in the ass?  Did your campaign manager set this up?"
     "It's very interesting, Howard.  I get to see how she works, and vice-versa."
     "Are you a fan of Melody's?"
     "She's good, Howard.  I watch her reports all the time."
     "Did you see that one on the trout that swam up into some guy's toilet?"
     "I missed that one.  But I'm sure it was good."
     "Your honor, I've always wanted to ask you something."
     "Oh, here we go."
     "No, this isn't bad.  Why didn't you ever marry?"
     "Well, it's not an exciting answer, but I guess I just haven't met the right man yet."
     "Your honor, do you have a tattoo?"
     "Howard!" said Robin.  "Don't you dare!"
     "What was that, Howard?" asked the mayor.
     "Do you have a tattoo?"
     "No, I'm afraid not.  Why do you ask?"
     Robin piped in.  "You don't want to know."
     "Your honor," said Howard, "later on in the show we're having Tattooed Lesbian Dial-a-Date, and I thought you might like to sit in."
     After a beat, Fazio laughed.  "Thanks very much, Howard, but I'll have to decline.  I'll be doing some phone conferencing until about lunch time."
     "Of course, I'm not suggesting you're a lesbian, your honor.  Are you?"
     "I won't satisfy your morbid curiosity, Howard.  But I will say that my administration is committed to promoting equal opportunity for people of all sexual preferences."
     "OK, your honor, nobody wants to hear a campaign speech.  Listen, don't you have a steady boyfriend?  Doesn't it get lonely over there in Gracie Mansion?  With the ghost of Mayor Koch walking around?"
     Robin interjected.  "Ed Koch isn't dead, Howard."
     "He's not?"
     "And I don't think it's any of our business what the mayor's private life is."
     "Oh, thanks a lot, Robin," said Howard.
     "Actually," said Fazio, "at the moment I've got about eight million people who are special to me: the people of New York."
     "Well answered, mayor, well answered.  I predict you'll win easy this time."
     "From your mouth to God's ear."
     "So listen, what about your chauffeur?  Are you just friends, or— "
     "Howard!" said Robin.  "I think the mayor answered your question."
     "Sgt. Ruiz is an officer from Special Services and a good friend and an excellent and patient driver," said the mayor.
     "Nothing more? Has he ever, like— "
     "Nice talking with you, Howard. Goodbye, Robin.  I think you have the patience of a saint."
     "Yes, your honor," said Howard, "but she has the breasts of a sex goddess."
     "That's nice," said Fazio.  "Here's Melody."
     "Thanks, Howard," said Robin.
     "Howard?  We're just about there," said Melody.  "Has the Son of Zorro shown up yet?"
     "Gary said they're piling up fast out in reception.  You better get here before the rest of the city's nuts show up."
     "How many are there?"
     "At least a dozen.  I'm afraid to look, myself.  Just get up here."
     "On my way.  Bye."  The phone connection closed.
     "All of a sudden, I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Robin."
     "You're just getting that feeling?"
     "This is 92-point-five, WBLT-FM, New York.  Melody Marven is on her way up, and we might even have the real Son of Zorro cooling his heels outside the studio, so stick around.  We'll be back after these messages."

     Rom felt hot and wished there were room to pace.  He had positioned himself near some vending machines when one of the elevator doors slid open, and out stepped Melody Marven, Lopez and a sound man, this time a Chinese fellow.
     The trio waited at the desk a moment while the receptionist phoned inside.  Melody, bearing a long, brown-paper-wrapped package, conferred quietly with the sound guy.  Lopez panned his camera around the room; he spotted Rom across the room, at the snack machine, unwrapping a stick of gum.  Lopez smiled, continued panning, then followed Melody as the door was opened for them.  After the three went in, Gary addressed the crowd.  "OK, who's No. 1?"
     A short, skinny Zorro — in a black mask and leather jacket, blue jeans and a blue bandanna — stepped forward and was led into the studio.  Rom noticed that the Zorro with bad posture Cassandra had pointed out was staring at him.  Rom chewed his gum and listened to the commercial, and soon the red "On the Air" sign over the door lit up again.
     "It's six minutes after nine on WBLT-FM, and we've got the lovely Melody Marven here in the studio, with her cameraman, from our sister station, WBLT-TV, and a sound guy too, for cryin' out loud, like this studio isn't small enough to start with.  I guess you wanted to immortalize this little moment, Melody."
     "You don't mind, do you, Howard?  It's good feature stuff."
     "Always thinking.  Is this the Scottish Mexican, MacLopez?"
     "Fitz Lopez," said Melody.  "John Fitzgerald Lopez, and this is our sound man, Gideon Peng."
     "And I'm Puerto Rican," said Lopez.
     "OK, Lopez, nobody wants to hear your life story," said Howard.  "But let me ask you: How can you work so closely with Melody and not get turned on?"
     "I wouldn't say that."
     "That you don't get turned on?"
     "No, that nobody wants to hear my life story."
     "What are you, a wise guy?"
     Melody cleared her throat.  "Howard, I can only stay a few minutes.  The mayor's waiting."
     "She's waiting in reception?  With all the Zorros?"
     "No, she's down in the limo, doing a phone conference I can't listen to anyway.  But I promised her I'd try to keep it short."
     "OK then, let's get right to it.  Son of Zorro No. 1, will you enter and sign in, please."
     "Howard," said Robin, "he's sitting right in front of you."
     "Oh, so he is.  You look so inconspicuous in your mask and bandana.  So you're the one, are you?"
     "Yes, I am."  His voice was small, tentative.
     "Move closer to that microphone, will you?"
     "Uh, yes, I'm the one.  Hello, Melody.  Good to see you again."
     "Are you sure we've met?" she asked.
     "Don't you remember?  I saved you in Columbus Circle."
     "Would you stand up for a second?  Hmmm.  I'm sure this is a very nice young man, Howard, but the guy I saw the other day was a bit taller."
     "I — I really am.  Don't you remember?"
     "Nice try, bub," said Howard.  "Next!"
     "Please," said the man.  "I— "
     "Alright, get outta here, you phoney," said Howard.
     "I'm Zorro," the man yelled, "and I want to fuck you, Melody!"   She screamed. Howard laughed and hit the seven-second-delay button.
     "Gary!  Get security in here.  I knew this was going to be a big pain in the ass!"   The young man bolted out the door.  "So long, you imbecile!" Howard yelled after him.  "Listen, there's gotta be a better way of doing this."
     "Oh, I don't know," said Melody.  "This is kind of fun."
     "You've been following the mayor around," said Howard.  "Having your fingernails pulled out would seem like fun to you."
     Robin spoke.  "I've got an idea.  Now Melody, you said that Zorro said something to you in Columbus Circle.  Let's take a break and have Gary quiz the rest of the Zorros on what they said to Melody.  Melody, you whisper to Gary what it was.  Then, if he's out there, we'll know we have him."
     "Good idea, Robin," said Howard.  "And if not, we can get on with Tattooed Lesbian Dial-a-Date.  I understand the mayor will be showing up for that, wearing a mask, a leather mask."  Melody and Robin groaned.  "Gary, get in here.  It's twelve past nine on WBLT-FM, New York.  We'll be right back."
     By the time Gary came into the reception area, only seven Zorros remained.  The rest were waiting for elevators.  The slouching one still stood in the corner, still shooting Rom an occasional look.  Those remaining whispered their responses to Gary, who chuckled and wrote on his clipboard.  Then he thanked them all and pulled Rom into the studio.
     They were still in commercial when Rom sat down.  The studio was dimly lit and cluttered with coffee containers.  Howard, about 6'5" with long, dark hair and a big nose, stood in a separate, smaller enclosed booth talking with an attractive, short-haired black woman sitting there.  Lopez stood in the corner, filming and grinning, with Peng next to him, headphones on, listening impassively.  Across from Rom sat Melody, smiling in recognition.
     "It is you," she said.  Rom just smiled back.  Howard returned to his seat behind the sound board and looked at Rom.
     "OK now, you're really Zorro, right?  No fooling?"
     Rom cleared his throat.  "Yup, it's me."  He offered his hand.  Howard hesitated, then shook it quickly.
     "Shaking hands makes me nervous," he said.  "You don't have anything, do you?"
     "Um, I have malaria and the black plague, Howard."
     "Christ, everybody's a comedian in this town.  Listen, put those headphones on, willya?"
     Rom did so and looked around.  "Where's Robin?"
     "You're looking at her."  It was the black woman.  She wore a bulky sweater and large headphones, and her smile dazzled.  A bottle of spring water and a tidy stack of newspapers sat at her elbow.
     "Why do you sit in a separate booth?" asked Rom.
     "Do you want the polite answer?" she said.
     "I fart a lot," said Howard.
     A long-haired man of about 35 sitting behind stacks of sound-effects cartridges raised his head.  "Ten seconds," he said.  Rom guessed he was Fred, the sound-effects man Cassandra had told him about.
     Howard put his headphones back on and spoke to Rom.  "Listen, you really are the right guy, aren't you?"
     "He's the one, Howard," said Melody.  She smiled at Rom again.
     Howard moved back behind the microphone.  "OK, we're back with Melody Marven, and I think we've found the real Zorro, too." Fred waved a hand.  "What is it, Fred?  Tag?  For what?  Manic Manny's?"  He flipped through sheets of paper in front of him.  "Here it is. Manic Manny's Fall Blitz continues at his new store in Flushing Meadows Mall.  Free Manic Manny caps and fanny packs to the first 100 people each day.  See Manic Manny for the best deals anywhere.  Remember, his prices are psychotic!  Why do I feel stupid when I read these commercials, Robin?"
     "Because you're a sensitive artist, Howard."
     "So true.  So we're back with Melody Marven and the real Son of Zorro, am I correct?"
     Melody spoke.  "I say yes, he's the one."
     "He must be," said Robin.  "He's all banged up.  But he hasn't said the password."
     "That's right," said Howard.  "Zorro — may I call you Zorro?  Son of Zorro is just too long."
     "Suit yourself."
     "By the way, is that name your idea?  I mean, did you announce yourself as the Son of Zorro?"
     "Actually, Howard, the Newark Fire Department gave me the name."
     "And I guess the media picked up on it."
     Melody leaned toward her microphone.  "We pick up on everything, Howard."
     "You're a pack of mongrel dogs, all of you," said Howard.  "Something like this puts the New York press in a feeding frenzy.  Gary, how many reporters are out there?"
     Gary, who had been standing by the studio door, jumped as if he'd been shocked. "None outside, boss, but I understand there are some arriving downstairs."
     "Did I wake you up?"
     "No, I was just thinking."
     "That's a nice change.  What are you doing in here, anyway?  It's getting too damned crowded in here."
     Gary held up his clipboard.  "I thought you might want to hear the things the other Zorros said they said to Melody."
     "Oh, excellent!" said Howard. "Get on the microphone, will you?"
     Gary leaned down toward Rom's mike, and Rom sat back.  "Excuse me, Zorro," he said.  "I got six responses, but three of them I can't say on the air."
     "Too dirty?"
     "Very dirty.  The others are, ‘May I have this dance?' and ‘Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?'"
     Everybody laughed.  Finally Howard asked Rom what the secret phrase was.
     "It's a bit anticlimactic after the Grey Poupon," Rom said, "but it was ‘Happy Columbus Day, miss.'"
     "That's it!" said Melody.  "I knew he was the one!"
     "Ladies and gentlemen, what other radio show brings you the real Son of Zorro?  So Zorro, I got two questions for you."
     "Shoot," said Rom.
     "First, did you steal that guy's watch?"
     Rom laughed.  "No, I didn't.  Next question?"
     "Are you nuts or what?"
     "I think I'm nuts to come on this show."
     "How old are you?  I mean, you look like you're over 30."
     "I'm 40."
     "Kind of old for a hero," said Robin.  "Is this his first big push, or is he coming out of retirement?"
     "Robin, you know all the facts about my short career."
     "Zorro," said Howard, "you don't have any whips on you, do you?"
     "No whips."
     "Too bad.  We're expecting lesbians.  Now listen, you're 40 years old.  What do you do for a living?"
     "Uh, I'm a teacher."
     "A teacher?!"  Howard and Robin said it simultaneously.  Robin continued.
     "What grade do you teach?"
     "High school."
     "Where?"
     "Uh, I'd rather not say."
     "I have a theory, Robin," said Howard.  "He was confiscating his students' drugs and taking them himself."
     "Just for the record," Robin said, "do you take drugs, Zorro?"
     "Uh, just say ‘No' to drugs, I say."
     "Oh, great!" said Robin.  "Let's pull out all the anti-drug cliches.  I like ‘Hugs are better than drugs.'"
     "Or as our lesbian friends say," said Howard, "rugs are better than drugs."
     After the laughter subsided, Howard continued.  "OK now, so you're 40 years old and you're a teacher.  Where do you live?  You can tell us that, can't you?"
     "I guess.  I live in New Jersey."
     "Howard, if you recall," said Robin, "his first two appearances were in Newark."
     "Are you from Newark?"
     "Um, not far from there."
     "Do you teach in Newark?" asked Robin.
     "No."
     "What is this, ‘What's My Line?' or something?"  said Howard. "I'm going to flip all the cards over and tell you our guest's occupation.  He's a mental patient!"
     "Howard, be nice to him," said Melody.  "He's not a mental patient."
     "Listen, Zorro.  What got you into the vigilante business?  What's your secret origin?  I mean, Batman's parents were killed by criminals, and he swore himself to a life of vengeance. What happened with you?"
     It was becoming warm in the studio, and Rom started to sweat.  He glanced quickly up at Lopez, who was filming and still grinning.  "No big secret origin, Howard.  I was close by when these things happened, and I decided to jump in."
     "You just happened to be walking by in your black suit and mask?"
     "Well, I, uh, improvised the first time."
     "Whaddaya mean?"
     "I made a mask out of two black socks."
     "I hope they were clean," said Robin.
     "And after that, you went out and bought a nicer one, I see," said Howard.
     "Yes."
     "OK, I can see how you could feel like jumping in, as you put it, in your own neighborhood, but what the hell made you come over here to Central Park?  With the mask and the hat, I mean."
     "I don't wear a hat, Howard."
     "OK, OK, with the scarf, then.  I mean, that's like premeditation, isn't it?  That's like Superman wearing his suit under his Clark Kent clothes, ready for action.  You see my point?"
     Rom squirmed.  It seemed as if Robin's eyes were drilling into him.  He looked over at Melody, who wore an enigmatic smile.
     "I guess it really does seem silly here on a Monday morning," Rom said.  "But it was just an impulsive thing, and it happened."
     "I think it was very brave," said Melody.
     "For the listeners at home who can't see what's going on in the studio," said Howard, "Melody Marven is sliding off her chair in a pool of lava.  Is it getting a little sticky over there?"  Rom saw Fred quickly grab a tape cartridge and insert into a player.  In a second, through the headphones came the sound effect of several cats mewing loudly.
     "Howard, stop it!" said Melody.  "Let me give my present."  She reached down next to her and picked up the package.
     "That's right.  Melody says she has a present for you, Zorro.  Whatever it is, it's long and thin."
     "Is this from your personal collection?" asked Robin.
     "Don't you start, too," said Melody.  "This belonged to my grandfather."  She unwrapped the package.
     "Gee, Robin," said Howard, "this is just like Christmas.  What did you get him?"
     Melody handed Rom a sword, brass-finished, heavy, with a wooden pommel, elegant crossguard, sheathed in a decorated brass scabbard.  A red tassel hung from the handle.
     "Whoa!" said Howard.  "What a sword!  Who was your grandfather, Ali Baba?"
     "No, he was some kind of grand pooh-bah in the Knights of Columbus."
     "I wish you people could see this sword.  How do you like it, Zorro?"
     Rom could barely speak.  "Thank you," he whispered.
     "You're welcome.  Any time you want to save me, go right ahead."
     "Uh-oh," said Howard.  "It's starting to smell funny in here, Robin.  Do you smell a fish market, or what?"  The wailing-cat sound effect was played again.
     "Now Howard,"said Melody, "I'm very grateful.  And Zorro should have a sword."
     "Right!  One more nut loose on the subway with a sword.  Zorro, promise you won't use that on anybody."
     "I promise."
     "And promise me something else: Get out of this business before you get hurt.  You seem like a nice guy."
     Robin piped up.  "He's been hurt already, Howard.  I can see that black eye from here."
     "Yeah, and he's got a couple bruises on his face.  You've been getting banged up here, Zorro.  You weren't expecting to get the crap beat out of you, were you?"
     "I, uh, don't know what I was expecting, Howard."
     "So who were these bad guys you ran into?  I mean racially."
     "Oh, it was a mix."
     "Let's see, you had your first bouts in Newark.  You know they're gonna be black, right?"
     "Now Howard," said Robin, "are you saying only blacks live in Newark?"
     "No, of course not.  You've got blacks, and then you've got whites who are looking for a house in the suburbs.  This is not news, Robin."
     "Oh, I don't believe that," she said.  "I know a few non-black folks who live in Newark and they're quite happy there."
     "They're happy because they have a screw loose.  They like to live dangerously.  Now Zorro, you're a white guy, except for that black eye, and you've been beating up on black people.  Isn't that somewhat racist?"
     "Just to set the record straight," said Rom, "most of the guys in Newark were black, and one, I think, was hispanic.  But the guys hassling me in Columbus Circle were black and white, and the mugger over by the reservoir was white, so I, uh, don't discriminate."
     "He takes them as they come," said Robin.
     "Pretty much.  In all of these situations, I never exactly stopped to think very long about what I was doing.  It was pretty much an impulsive thing."
     "Jeez," said Howard.  "Weren't you afraid for your life?  I mean, you coulda got shot or stabbed or something."
     Rom shrugged.  "He that is born to be hanged shall never be drowned."
     "Wow!"
     "That's a literary reference," said Robin.
     "Hey Zorro," said Howard, "you're pretty cavalier, there.  If you ask me, I think you were just lucky."
     "No argument there, Howard."
     "I guess you have a guardian angel or something, huh?  Robin, who's the superhero saint?  You were a Catholic."
     "I was not a Catholic, Howard.  And I don't know who the patron saint of superheros is."
     "Are you a Catholic, Zorro?"
     "I, uh, went to Catholic school."
     "But you're not a Catholic now?"
     Rom swallowed hard.  "Well, I've sort of, uh, fallen away, I guess "
     "Yeah, you and about two-thirds of the rest of the Catholic Church.  I think you better go back to church, Zorro, and thank your patron saint that you haven't been killed so far. Robin, isn't it Saint Hercules who looks out for superheros?"
     "I think you're mixed up," she said.
     "Yeah, I'm mixed up!  This guy puts on a mask and a scarf and goes after bad guys, and I'm mixed up!  Zorro, listen to me.  When I was a kid, I put the towel around my neck and pretended I was Superman, OK?  I mean, we all did.  But don't you think you're pushing it?"
     "I look back on it, Howard, and I definitely was pushing my luck."
     "Now I can see you're not totally crazy, Zorro.  What did you think, that you were gonna change the world?  You were gonna beat all the bad guys?  There's just too many of them.  You would never finish the job.  Even if they all lined up to get slain by you, the line would never end."
     "Yes," said Robin, "they'd breed on line.  It would just go on and on."
     "That's right," said Howard.  "And it's not like you're getting paid for it."
     "So tell us, Zorro," Robin said, "what have you learned from all this?"
     Rom took a deep breath.  There was a moment of uncharacteristic quiet in the studio. All eyes were on him.  "Well," he said slowly, "I think I've learned that I'm not going to change the world, but it feels good to have tried."
     "Hmmm," said Robin.  "That has the ring of truth, Son of Zorro."
     "Well said, my friend.  Look at it this way: You had a few good adventures, you got your picture on Page One of the Sunday News kicking some punk in the balls— "
     "You got a sword from a beautiful woman," added Robin.
     "Exactly," said Howard.  "You know, Robin, I hope he really means it about knocking off the hero stuff, or we're gonna be reading about this guy.  They're gonna fish him out of the East River or something."
     "If the cops don't get him first," said Robin.  "He's a horse thief!"
     "That's right!  What did you do that for?  Aren't you a good guy?"
     "Sometimes even the good guys have to get away fast, Howard."
     Howard sat back a moment, drinking from a bottle of spring water and looking at Rom.  "You fascinate me, sir.  Let me ask you something.  You're out there putting your life on the line, and for what?  At least cops get paid.  Or are you independently wealthy, like Bruce Wayne?  And his young ward?  You know, Robin, I always wondered about those two.  Do Bruce and — what's his name?"
     "I think it's Dick," said Robin.
     "That's perfect.  Do you think Bruce and Dick have something going on?"
     "I couldn't tell you."
     "What do you think, Zorro?  Ever see those guys at the superhero clubhouse?"  Rom was laughing too hard to answer.  Howard continued.  "I think a lot of those guys get it on with their young wards.  Who else has a young ward?  The Flash?"
     "No, I think the Flash is a solo act," said Robin.  "I know Green Arrow has one. Speedy, right?"
     "Speedy!" laughed Howard.  "Mom, I want you to meet my young ward, Speedy!"
    "And I believe," said Robin, "that Aquaman had a young sidekick, too."
     "That was Fishboy, right?  Aquaman and Fishboy."
     Melody spoke.  "I believe that was Aqualad."
     "That's right, Aqualad.  I forgot we had a newsperson in here."
     "That's why she gets the big money," said Robin.
     "Are all those superheroes members of that man-boy love club?  What's the name, Robin?"
     "You're thinking of the North American Man-Boy Love Association, Howard."
     "Yeah, there they are at the weekly meetings, Aquaman and Batman hanging out by the coffee machine, comparing notes on their young wards."
     "Don't you think they'd be officers, Aquaman and Batman?" said Robin.
     "Oh, of course.  They're the high-visibility members."
     "Yes, they help with the fundraising."
     "Quite so, Robin.  So listen, Zorro, how about showing us what you look like?  I swear to god, we'll never tell anybody."
     "Couldn't do it."
     "Aw, c'mon.  Every superhero has somebody who knows his secret identity, like Albert the butler."
     "Alfred," said Robin.
     "That's what I said, Alfred.  Let me be your butler, Zorro.  Show me your face.  Just me.  I'll make the others close their eyes."
     "Not a chance."
     "Tell me," said Robin, "does anybody know your secret identity?"
     Rom resisted an urge to look toward Lopy.  "Two of my oldest and dearest friends know.  That's it."
     "Hmmm," said Howard.  "Have they joined a support group for parents and friends of superheros?"
     "Um, not that I know of."
     "OK, Zorro, it's been real enlightening talking to you, but we have to take a break here. I still have a lot of questions for you, and when we come back we'll go to the phones, so if you have a question for Zorro out there, get it ready.  Melody, you gonna stick around?"
     "I've got to go, Howard.  Can't keep the mayor waiting."
     "OK.  Well, thanks for stopping by this morning."
     "My pleasure.  Thanks again, Son of Zorro."   She leaned over and kissed Rom on the lips, and the studio erupted into cheers and laughter.
     "Stop now, Zorro!" yelled Howard.  "This is the high point of your career.  It's gotta be!"
     "He's right," said Robin.  "If I were you, I'd take that sword and hang it over my fireplace and live long enough to tell my grandkids how I stole a cop's horse."
     "And kicked a bad guy in the balls," added Howard.  "And kissed Melody Marven.  She won't even kiss me, and I'm the Messiah of the Airwaves!"
     Melody rose to leave, removing the headphones.  "If you'd been that brave, you'd get a kiss too, Howard."  She left the studio, with Peng right behind, followed by Lopez, who'd filmed her exit and now stood in the doorway, his camera turned toward the Son of Zorro. Then Lopez put the camera down, smiled at Rom and was gone.
     "What a circus!" said Howard.  "I need a break here.  It's 9:30 at WBLT-FM New York.  We've got the Son of Zorro here in the studio.  Gary, are those tattooed lesbians here yet?  We might have to ask them to come back tomorrow.  The phones are already lit up, and we've all got lots of questions for the Son of Zorro here.  We'll be right back after these words."
     The red light over the door went off and Howard threw down his headphones and stood up.  "I gotta piss like a racehorse.  Don't go away, Zorro.  You're doin' great."  He raced from the room, followed by Gary.  Rom looked at Robin, who smiled at him.  Then Fred went into her booth, blocking his view.
     Rom looked over at the console.  All the phone lines — there were about a dozen — were blinking.  He took off the headphones, stood, picked up his new sword and walked out of the studio, through the reception area, and into an elevator.