The True Backstory of Superman As Told by His Younger Cousin

Published in The Haven, April 20, 2025

On a fine fall day in the Windy City, Carol Crane and her mother Mary, dressed in their Sunday finest, were enjoying a pleasant day window shopping on North Michigan Avenue.

“Look Mom, up in the sky,” It’s a bird, it’s a plane.”

“No, Honey, that’s Superman, he came to earth with powers far beyond those of you, or me, or any other mere mortal.”

Less-El, the younger cousin of the flying man, in town for his yearly vacation visit to Riverview Amusement Park, overheard the conversation (not a stretch given his super hearing). It was all he could do to suppress the desire to say, “Don’t be impressed, that’s just Kal-El showing off again.” Less-El kept silent because he was a law-abiding citizen of Krypton, and all Kryptonians were sworn to secrecy about the true story of Kal-El and his move to planet Earth.

“Look, Mommy, he’s flying upside down, and backwards, and doing figure eights.”

Less-EL figuratively bit his tongue and literally gritted his teeth.

In the comic-book version of Superman, he came to earth in a rocket ship to escape from the doomed planet Krypton. In real life he was exiled to Earth by Kryptonian authorities as punishment for his chronic pranking. The prank that precipitated his exile was kept confidential, but there were rumors of green kryptonite being strategically placed in the teacher’s lounge and bathroom, resulting in near fatalities and prolonged hospitalizations. His personality was outsized for Krypton, a planet inhabited by modest, quiet, and law-abiding people. As a result, he was nicknamed “Extra-El”, which was eventually shortened to “Extra.”

The banishment achieved the goal of ridding Krypton of Extra’s shenanigans, but it was not fully satisfying to the punishers, because rather than suffering, Extra was having the time of his life on Earth performing mind-boggling demonstrations of superhuman strength and speed (flying, using X-ray vision, deflecting bullets, etc.).

Contrary to myth, Extra’s motivation was never to benefit mankind by interrupting armed robberies, kidnappings in progress, or to save lives by putting runaway trains back on track. Everything he did was a lark. Occasionally his larks inadvertently resulted in a “good deed,” the frequency of which had been blown wildly out of proportion by superhero paparazzi and cartoonists who were always on the lookout for new material. Superman’s debut decades earlier had been a big boon to them; the public’s interest in Superman’s predecessors, including Zorro, Buck Rodgers, and the Shadow had waned by then.

Unlike the comic-book Superman, the real Superman did not have a day job. The real Superman turned coal into diamonds, by applying super pressure, which he then sold to shady money men with no questions asked. He spent most of his free time playing video games, mostly Fortnite.

Although Less-El took pride in the contrast between his own good behavior and his cousin’s misbehavior, he did allow himself one guilty pleasure during his yearly visits to Earth. Riverview Amusement Park was the venue for his naughtiness. The scene of his crime was not a roller coaster, food stand, or side show. It was the “Guess Your Weight” game. The rules were simple. After looking the guest up and down, and usually giving a squeeze here and there, the carnie guessed the player’s weight. The player stepped onto the scale. Everyone waited breathlessly as the theatrically-large needle on the face of the scale came to rest. If the guess was within five pounds of the displayed weight the house won. If not, the player won.

Less-El loved this game for the simple reason that he always won — always as in 100% of the time. He never lost because even the most experienced carnie never guessed Less-EL’s weight to be above 165 pounds. Over 14 years of visiting the park the guess had fallen into a remarkably narrow range — between 157 and 165 pounds. In fact, Less-EL weighed 637 pounds on Earth because of his super-dense muscle mass and heavy-duty supporting chassis.

None of the observers discovered that fact because the scale only went up to 500 pounds. The carnival-game developers had thought that adequate, even considering the notoriously well-fed state of the Chicago citizenry.

Less-EL savored every second of the ritual. He would take his time stepping onto the scale platform. He delighted in seeing the needle jump to the far right of the scale, beyond the number 500 and into the netherworld of the unquantifiably heavy. He relished seeing the astonished faces of the carnie and the audience. Without saying a word, he would nonchalantly accept the teddy bear or puppy dog prize and calmly walk over to the nearby food stands to enjoy a few corn dogs and an oversized orange soda, topped off by a huge puff of pink cotton candy. Having accomplished his vacation goals, the next day he returned to Krypton, where the food was far less enjoyable, but healthier, and there were no stunt-cousins soaring through the air.