Well, you’ve made it through the first of the big family holidays of the season. You’ve had pie for breakfast for days now, and the turkey carcass is in a trash bag in the fridge because Wonder Lady claimed she’d be able to do so many things with it! You’re sick and tired of leftover potatoes and stuffing, and the brussels sprouts are starting to look greener than they really ought to.
It’s time to get creative! (Or, you know, die of food poisoning. Whichever.)
The first thing to do is think about what your other favorite super-beings would do with their leftovers—apart from eating them, of course. Even supers get sick of leftover gravy after the fifteenth serving. Gravy’s a great place to start. There’s a certain heroic person with a penchant for nocturnal mammals who has an enormous house and a butler to help him—surely one (or twenty-six) of his guest rooms could do with new wallpaper, and that’s where the gravy comes in. It makes a spectacular replacement for wallpaper adhesive, so you can swap out the Gothic Black for a Slightly Darker Gothic Black accent wall at half the cost! There’s that sorted, then. The gravy gets dropped off at the mansion on the hill for all of their wallpapering needs.
While we’re on the subject of home decor, mashed potatoes and stuffing make excellent substitutes for Spackle and texturing, so maybe you ought to take those still-somehow-ridiculously-full casserole dishes over to Mr. MagnetDude’s place. He still hasn’t finished repairing the wall between his kitchen and his garage after the unfortunate polarity reversal incident that led to his ’56 Chevy becoming his kitchen island. And you should probably apologize. Again. It was your fault, after all.
No one ever actually ate the sweet potato casserole with the marshmallows on top of it, and AquaGuy was recently trying to find a unique-looking doorstop. All that sugary, starchy smooshiness has turned to sugary, starchy concrete at this point, so that might be a great solution to his problem. Chuck it in the trunk and drop it off the next time you’re out and about—just be sure that you distribute the weight evenly because it’s heavy enough to be problematic on your car’s shocks and struts.
Come to think of it, the same fate befell the green bean casserole. Who could use a brick of now-not-so-crunchy-onion-topped veggies? Maybe that shape-shifting animal super who lives on the outskirts of town would want it. For his pet donkeys, obviously. Not for him. The donkeys might appreciate it. Or they’ll trample it to show their disdain. Either way, not your problem after delivery. The other option would be to sneak into the zoo and slip it into the giraffe enclosure. They eat green beans…right?
Back to that turkey carcass. You need to get someone to boil it up for stock and break it down before any of your more science-mad enemies get a hold of it and try to reanimate it as some sort of giant zombie turkey mega-monster and send it off to destroy the harbor or some other equally necessary local hub of commerce. The same goes for the brussels sprouts. You might have been dreaming, but last night when you toddled down to the kitchen for a midnight glass of eggnog you’re pretty sure you heard them all shush each other when you opened the fridge. Brussels sprouts having conversations make for fabulous henchmen after they’ve had a few thousand volts shot through them, or been exposed to something radioactive, and the city does not need thirty-seven smelly, sentient mini-cabbages running around the place.
Not after last time, anyway… Pee-yew!
That last pumpkin pie that no one even started trying to eat is still sitting in its bakery box next to the fridge. You might as well drop that by the Stronghold of Seclusion for Superb-Man’s dog to use as a Frisbee—it must be stale enough for that by now. Oh, and if you can do it without him seeing, dump the last of the cranberry sauce on the snow outside so that Superb-Man thinks the polar bear’s been eating seals on his doorstep again. It’s not particularly funny, but at least it gets rid of the cranberries.
Oh, and lastly—and no, this isn’t directly related to the leftovers, except that it kind of is—make sure you make an appointment as soon as possible with the super-suit tailor to have your seams let out. You know how impacted her schedule gets this time of year when everyone is stuffing their faces without a thought to their waistlines and the spandex and Lycra into which they have to stuff them. Just a thought.