New York never shuts up. Horns, sirens, dogs barking, people yelling—I swear the city has a personal vendetta against sleep. I swing between rooftops, hoodie flapping, backpack bouncing. Being Spider-Man is great and all, but it's exhausting, especially when you've got homework, school, and, you know… actual life to deal with.
A scuffle catches my Spider-Sense. Down on the corner, some thug is trying to snatch a kid's backpack. Classic.
"Uh… hey, maybe don't?" I call, landing behind them.
The guy spins with a knife. Big mistake.
"Really?" I sigh, duck, and web the knife right out of his hand. He flails, I web him to a lamppost. Done.
The kid bolts. "Thanks… Spider-Man!"
"No problem, dude. Try not to get mugged again—it's kind of my thing tonight."
Sirens wail in the distance. My cue. I swing up to the rooftops, taking a breath. Queens is messy, chaotic… and mine.
Swinging home, I hit the alley near my apartment. Aunt May's car is in the driveway, which means she's probably already up, worrying about me. Classic. I land softly, hoodie still flapping, backpack bumping, and creep inside.
"Peter!" she calls. "Dinner's in ten minutes, and don't tell me you've been out all night again!"
"Uh… school project," I lie smoothly, tossing my backpack on the couch. Smooth. Definitely smooth.
Dinner is spaghetti, my least favorite, but I eat it anyway. Aunt May keeps talking about chores, my grades, my weird obsession with science experiments that blow up the kitchen sometimes. I nod along, trying to sound interested while mentally planning my next patrol.
After dinner, I wash dishes, take out the trash, feed the cat—responsibilities. They're boring, but important. Being Spider-Man is fun, but being Peter Parker… that's the real test.
Once the chores are done, I sneak to my window. The city stretches out like a glowing jungle. Somewhere out there, someone's going to need me. Some kid, some old lady, some purse-snatcher… maybe a stray dog in trouble. I glance at the clock: almost midnight.
Time for another patrol.
I swing back into the night, hoodie whipping, backpack secured, mind racing. Queens is my home. And whether it likes it or not, I'm watching over it—homework and chores be damned.
The streets feel different at this hour. The neon signs reflect off puddles from an earlier rain, and the occasional taxi splashes through them, painting streaks of gold and red. I pause on a fire escape to scan the block below. There's a couple arguing on the corner, some guy yelling at a taxi driver, and a cat stuck in a tree.
"Priority number one," I mutter to myself, swinging down to rescue the cat before it falls. The little furball hisses at me but I manage to scoop it up. "Don't worry, buddy. Spider-Man's got you." The cat doesn't seem impressed, but hey, I've saved lives less appreciative. I place it safely on a roof ledge where it can scurry away, and it shoots me a look like, Seriously, dude?
Continuing my patrol, I spot a teenager climbing out of a convenience store with a fistful of stolen candy bars. Not dangerous, but still—morals matter. I swoop down and web the backpack he's trying to stuff under his hoodie.
"Uh… thanks?" he stammers, clearly torn between running and apologizing.
"Yeah, go apologize to the cashier," I tell him, swinging back up. "And maybe, uh… don't make me your life coach tonight."
Queens is quiet now. The big city monsters are asleep or patrolling elsewhere, leaving just the small stuff—muggers, bullies, and lost pets. It's not glamorous, but it matters. Every little save is a victory.
Eventually, my legs ache, and my Spider-Sense quiets down. I swing near my apartment again, landing on a familiar rooftop. From up here, the city looks peaceful, almost like it's holding its breath. Almost. I climb in through my window just as the first hints of dawn creep over the horizon.
I flop onto my bed, hoodie still on, backpack on the floor. My phone buzzes—homework reminders, texts from friends asking where I've been, Aunt May's check-in. I ignore them all for a second, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the night.
Being Spider-Man isn't just about stopping crime—it's about responsibility. Protecting a city that doesn't always notice. Balancing school, chores, friends, and the occasional science experiment explosion. Being Peter Parker isn't easy. Being Spider-Man isn't either.
But I wouldn't trade it for the world. Queens is mine. And every night, I'll be swinging through its streets, hoodie whipping, backpack bumping, keeping the city safe—even if no one knows it. Even if no one notices. Even if it means missing sleep, missing homework, missing a normal life.
Queens never sleeps. Neither do I .