The text below is from a novel in progress. First draft so there's still plenty of editing that will need to be done before it's "ready."
“We’ll, I guess this gives me a good excuse to do it now.” Aloysius sat on the couch and dumped the contents of the bag on the couch. He swept the clothes to the floor and plunked the Red on the coffee table. “I’m putting this to bed.”
He snapped open two cans of Red and chugged them down. It wasn’t a bad time either, probably 15 seconds. He snapped the third and looked at Roy.
“After I drink this and nothing happens, I don’t want to hear anything more about me being a superhero or magic potions, or shape-shifting. Okay? Deal?”
Roy nodded his head in agreement. He shifted forward in his seat. “Bottom’s up!”
A soft warmth had started to spread to Aloysius’ extremities. He tipped the can to his lips and eight seconds later it was empty.
Roy sat expectantly. Aloysius felt the alcohol smack into his brain. It was a lot of Red to guzzle at one time. Three cans in less than a minute was enough to inebriate even heavy drinkers.
The belch that boiled from Aloysius’ mouth was something out of legend. Windows rattled, Roy was pushed back in his seat, and a box of Cheerios on the table tipped over and spilled onto the floor.
“Not...” Roy started to say something but the words stopped. His mouth gained traction again. “That was a superhuman belch, boy.”
“Ri-i-i-i-ght,” Aloysius drawled. He wasn’t sure if the word was slurred but he felt like it should be.
“Now do something else that’s super!” Roy said. His grin showed teeth, his eyes mirth. He tipped his beer bottle at Aloysius. His eyes wandered the apartment. “Pick up the fridge!”
“Pick ub the frigge? Yesh!” Aloysius eased up to his feet. “Juss ta prove itsh a lotta nonsensh.”
Adopting a stumbling gait and nearby furniture, Aloysius made it to the fridge. He bent with his knees (just like stockboys the world over are instructed to do), squeezed his fingers under the lip of the front of the fridge, and lifted with his legs.
The fridge smashed through the ceiling, the three floors above, and the roof.
Drywall dust, bits of wood, floated down. Then water. The fridge-sized hole suddenly had a water feature. Aloysius stood rooted to the spot, water poured down on him. The broken water lines above weren’t going to stop gushing anytime soon. The tenant in the top floor apartment peered down at Aloysius.
“What the hell happened. Al?” she shouted.
Roy looked up at the neighbour. “Explosion or something, Annie. You okay?”
“I’m fine, but my kitchen’s a goddamned mess.”