The secret society sent me this letter. It said:
You are a thorough disgrace to our organization. Get your shit together, or you will be replaced, fungushead.
And that set it pretty straight. And that set it pretty straight.
You see, Captain Crime kidnapped my girl and sodomized her via live telecast on the five story community viewscreen. The worst part is, she seemed to love it.
The city thought I was a loser and the society thought I was a putz. Even still, they wanted me to do things their way: by the book. What you say:
"The customer is always right." What you mean: "The customer can always kiss my ass."
So, they can just kiss my ass. I did what any good superhero would do: I got piss-drunk and puked my life out in the gutter next to Chewey's Bar & Grill. While I stupifying myself, Captain Crime capitalized on crime raping the city like a fat man eats a melon.
He stole the city's statue of Colonel Balernol. He blew up the mall. He keeps humping my girlfriend. Now he's killing hostages from the Order of the Moose.
That guy makes me look bad.was e look bad he obviously didn't read the Criminal's Manual, because he's breaking all the rules. Fuck him. I hate him.
"Why you drunk, mon?" asked the rastafarian cab driver.
"Faggin baffa my garlfrank!" I was sort of too drunk to talk. "Hey, mon, get outta da gutta. It's bad for ja image, mon."
"Image?! Whadda fuck my dad's dog's tits!"
"It jes not right for super guy to be rallin' in da gutta like dot, mon."
"Everybody knows, mon."
"Hey, mon, I gotta cab ron, but if I was you I'd be buyin' a gon. Den you be feelin' irie."
"But we aren't shupposed to use guns! Only shuper gadgets..."
"He play by da rules?"
By this time, the rasta cabman was gone, but he was right. Fuck the tights from now on it was hardwear and .45 city! Fuck the people, those goddamned shriners getting killed every hour! All I want is a piece of Crimeface's ass. They all laugh at me as I walk up to the "I" building with my new armor and gadgets glued everywhere.
"Hey, Batman, why don't you do something?" I am.
"It'll never work!" Thanks a mil, baby. Here I go. "No admittance, batshit!"
"Eat my ass, fuckface." Doorman becomes stain-on-glass-man. Other doorman learns how to eat own nuts. I ride up the elevator cable instead of elevator car. "Hey, you fuckin' queer, you're not supposed to be up here, ya' hear?!"
They have automatic weapons, but I've already cut the power and I know how to use the dark. Solar plexus punctures heart. Clown number two goes down elevator shaft the non-gentle way. Funny, he tries to grab the greased cable on his way down not very helpful.
"Aahhhhhh!" is his creative comeback to the situation I have imposed on his ugliness. Falls banging walls. They know I'm here, so fuckin' what? Four stories up, one at a time. Four stories of lead, four stories of blood. The bitch and Crimehead are actually fucking when I get there. He's not shocked, though, he's pissed. Her mouth is hanging open and her face is red. She looks ashamed she should be. Captain Crime grabs a bedpost and tries to bust my armored balls. He just about does it. I dodge and he slams a super crime fist into my left lower ribs the ones that break the easiest, and they do. I see Brenda, and the sight of my shame, and her slutocity, enrages the batshit out of me. I roundhouse the Captain out onto the balcony, through the glass doors. I keep hammering his abdomen with steeltoed sidekicks, which is probably making him feel not-comfy. I grab him by the crimeshirt and consider giving him the "Peppy Speech", but this scumbag just isn't worth it. Caring just doesn't work anymore. As I go to toss his ass, he grabs onto my arm.
"You can't whup my ass you're not my daddy!" This flake-oid has some serious mental problems, which are soon to be rectified. But I can't lose him he's got an unshakeable grip on my right arm! Luckily, it's my fake robo-arm. I depress the "detach fake robo-arm" button on my utility belt. I can't resist I have to say the cheap, James Bond-y one liner:
"Let me lend you a hand." Ha, I make myself laugh.
He's doing air disco, yelling "I got a big", but he doesn't get to finish, because, awww, poor baby, he's shish kabobbed on a flagpole. "Gaaaak," he says convincingly, then the flagpole breaks off and he falls into a filthy duckpond, filled with duck poo. The duckpond rolls away and falls into the gutter, where Captain Crime is washed downstream along with a lifetime supply of human feces (hopefully, one of them is mine), and eventually off the edge of the earth. Now back to you, Brenda. News at eleven thanks, Edgar. She's lying on the bed, and she gives me this story like: she was hypnotized and Captain Crime put her under a spell, or some kind of crap like that. I just say, "I packed your bags." I guess I feel sort of bad, kicking her out like that, but there was no more love between us. As I drive off in my Volar, I realize: a man must galvanize himself if he is to survive. I wish I could be different, but in a dark world, you need a dark knight.stupefyingze himself if he is to survive. different, but in a dark world