Jerry Matthews sneezed, and three garbage trucks flipped over.

“Oh no, not again,” he muttered, frantically patting his pockets for an allergy pill. The spring pollen count was particularly high today, and being allergic to practically everything that bloomed wasn’t ideal when you had super breath powers. He could hear the garbage truck drivers shouting obscenities as they climbed out of their overturned vehicles.

“Sorry!” he called out, his voice carrying perhaps a bit too well thanks to his super-powered vocal cords. Several nearby windows shattered. “I’ll help fix that!”

The drivers took one look at him in his blue and orange spandex costume (complete with a poorly-sewn ‘CC’ emblem that was slightly off-center) and started waving him away frantically.

“No, no, that’s okay Captain Calamity! We’ve got insurance for this sort of thing now!” one driver yelled back. “They added a specific ‘Captain Calamity clause’ last year!”

Jerry slumped his shoulders. Even the insurance companies had given up on him. He couldn’t really blame them – not after the “Great Pizza Delivery Incident” where he’d tried to help a lost delivery driver and somehow managed to create a fifty-car pileup. At least nobody got hurt. They never did, thanks to his quick reflexes and invulnerability that let him shield civilians from the worst of his… enthusiasm.

His phone buzzed. Late for work again. With a sigh, Jerry took to the skies, remembering at the last second to check for low-flying aircraft. He’d learned that lesson the hard way after accidentally giving a pilot the fright of his life last month. The resulting emergency landing had made all the papers: “Captain Calamity Strikes Again: Local Superhero Causes Another Near-Disaster.”

At least he could fly fast enough to make it to the Daily Gazette building in time. Landing carefully (only knocking over two newspaper stands this time – a personal best), Jerry quickly changed into his civilian clothes in what he thought was a secluded alley.

“We can all see you, Captain Calamity,” called out a hot dog vendor without looking up from his cart. “The super speed doesn’t help if you change in front of a mirrored window.”

Jerry felt his face flush as red as his cape. “Right. Sorry, Pete.”

Inside the Daily Gazette’s mailroom, Jerry tried to focus on sorting letters and packages. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it let him keep an ear out for emergencies in the city. Plus, being in a basement meant fewer windows to accidentally break when he sneezed.

“Matthews!” his supervisor barked. “These packages were supposed to go out an hour ago!”

“Sorry, Mr. Peterson! I’ll get right on that!” Jerry grabbed the cart of packages, accidentally crushing the handle with his super strength. He really needed to work on that. The cart tipped, sending parcels everywhere.

As he scrambled to pick everything up, the building’s fire alarm started blaring. Jerry’s super hearing picked up the actual emergency dispatch calls – a major fire had broken out at the Riverside Apartments, and the regular fire department was struggling to contain it.

This was it. His chance to prove himself. Something even he couldn’t mess up too badly – after all, his super breath should be perfect for putting out fires. What could possibly go wrong?

Twenty minutes later, Jerry hovered outside the burning building, trying to ignore the groans from the gathered firefighters as they recognized him.

“Captain Calamity, please,” the fire chief called out through a megaphone. “We appreciate the offer, but we’ve got this under control!”

Jerry spotted a family trapped on the tenth floor. “But I can help! I just need to…”

He took a deep breath, ready to blow out the flames. That’s when he felt it. The tickle in his nose. The cherry blossoms from the park across the street had picked the worst possible moment to shed their petals.

“Oh no,” Jerry managed to say before letting out the most explosive sneeze of his career.

The good news was that the sneeze did put out the fire. The bad news was that it also blew out every window in the building, ripped off a fair portion of the roof, and created a temporary tornado that scattered burning debris across three city blocks.

As emergency services scrambled to contain the new fires, Jerry landed on a nearby rooftop and sat down heavily. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he should just give up on this whole superhero thing. He was clearly doing more harm than good.

That’s when he heard it. A small voice, coming from the alley below.

“Help! Somebody help!”

Jerry peered down to see a young girl, maybe seven or eight, trying to rescue a kitten that had gotten stuck in a storm drain. The girl was crying, and the kitten’s meows were getting weaker as the water level slowly rose from a broken pipe.

This was something small. Something manageable. Something even he couldn’t mess up too badly. Right?

Floating down gently, Jerry landed beside the girl. “Hi there. Need some help?”

The girl’s eyes widened in recognition, and for a moment, Jerry prepared himself for the usual screaming and running away. Instead, she smiled.

“Captain Calamity! My brother says you’re the worst superhero ever, but I don’t think so. You try really hard, and Mom says that’s what matters most.”

Jerry felt something warm in his chest that had nothing to do with his powers. “What’s your name?”

“Sarah. Please help Mr. Whiskers! He’s scared!”

Jerry assessed the situation. The drain opening was too small for him to reach in without potentially crushing the grating and causing more problems. He couldn’t use his super breath without risking hurting the kitten. Super strength might collapse the whole drain system.

Then he had an idea.

“Sarah, does Mr. Whiskers like laser pointers?”

Five minutes later, Jerry had borrowed a laser pointer from a nearby convenience store (leaving a slightly crushed five-dollar bill as payment). He shown the red dot just past the kitten, then slowly drew it toward the drain opening. The kitten, despite being wet and scared, couldn’t resist the instinct to chase it.

As soon as Mr. Whiskers was close enough, Jerry reached in – very, very carefully – and gently lifted the kitten to safety. Sarah immediately wrapped the shivering cat in her jacket, beaming with joy.

“You did it! You saved him!” She hugged Jerry’s leg, not caring that her jacket was getting wet. “You’re my favorite superhero ever!”

Jerry felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Thanks, Sarah. That means a lot.” He sneezed again, but this time had the presence of mind to turn away from any buildings. Only three trash cans went flying.

That evening, as Jerry flew home (only clipping one TV antenna), he thought about what Sarah had said. Maybe being the world’s worst superhero wasn’t so bad if he could still help people, even in small ways. Maybe what the world needed wasn’t another perfect hero, but someone who showed that it was okay to mess up as long as you kept trying.

His phone buzzed with a news alert: “Captain Calamity Saves Kitten, Only Minimal Property Damage Reported.” Below it was a photo Sarah’s mother had taken, showing him and Sarah with the rescued Mr. Whiskers. The comment section was unusually positive, with several people sharing stories of times he’d helped them, despite the chaos that typically followed.

Jerry smiled and saved the photo. Tomorrow would probably bring new disasters, more property damage, and additional insurance claims. But today, he’d saved a kitten and made a little girl smile. Sometimes, that was enough.

As he landed on his apartment building’s roof (only dislodging a few shingles this time), Jerry heard sirens in the distance. Somewhere in the city, someone needed help. He straightened his crooked cape and grinned.

“Time to go mess things up in the best way possible.”