Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #½ – “Untitled”! Yeah, I don’t know. This story has no name! You can also call it just plain “Ultimate Spider-Man #½” I suppose. It don’t mean no nevermind to me.

I just finished the “Double Trouble” storyline, but here’s a bonus for ya! During the middle of that arc, a standalone story was released featuring the goings-on at the Daily Bugle. J. Jonah Jameson gets his 15 minutes of fame!

So without further ado, enjoy this bonus Spider-Man story before I move on to something else. Ciao, baby.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #½ [February, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis

Jameson holds up a beautiful picture of Spider-Man. Just a stunning work of photographic genius! Really captures the spidery essence. “Who took this?” he asks, mouth full of cigar. One of the young interns took such a glorious boner-inducing photo. Her name is Karen, and she just happened to be there. At the right place at the right time. It appears to be an action shot of the young crusader thwarting a purse-thieving street crime! “Good for her– I want to see her in my office at the end of the day.”

Jameson turns to JOURNALISTIC SUPERSTAR Ben Urich, who has the scoop: Tara Keegan, 34-year-old black woman, was suspected of shoplifting a pair of children’s shoes from a sporting goods store. She is followed out of the store by an employee named Warren Hepburn, who asks to see what she has in her bag. Keegan is resistant! Hepburn is persistent! And he grabs her, throws her against the wall, and tells her to cough up those shoes before he calls the C.O.P.S.

Keegan starts screaming stuff like “HELP! I’M PREGNANT!”. Hepburn starts screaming stuff like “HELP! I NEED A POLICE!”. Things start to get ugly.

You know what, I might as well show you the photo:

A picture is worth a thousand words, but I’m going to write a thousand words about it anyway.

Yeah! Now you’ve got context!

So these two losers are screaming on the street and no one is helping. Total bystander effect. UNTIL, that is, a big ol’ black guy named Clarence Wilson comes out of the store and takes note of the ruckus! Wilson grabs Hepburn by the head, pulls him back, and declares “You can’t grab her! You ain’t got no badge.”

Wilson continues to hold onto Hepburn. Hepburn continues to hold onto Keegan. It’s like a human centipede with less poop. Wilson tells Hepburn to say he’s sorry or he’ll crush his stupid face. Keegan tells Hepburn that he’s lucky she’s not stabbing the fuck out of him right now.

And wouldn’t you know it, things get even weirder! Oh boy!

You do NOT want to experience the wrath of the living Final Fantasy X character.

Some grimacing Aryan Youth dude in a leather jacket approaches Clarence Wilson and warns him not to hurt the skinny sporting goods store man. Then, with barely an ounce of additional warning, Blondie performs a majestic sidewinder kick right to Wilson’s big bald dome.

Supreme Court Justice Clarence “Thomas” Wilson ain’t going down that easily, though! “MMrrff…someone’s looking for a beating,” he murmurs, rubbing his head. Alas, sir, because Blondie’s right fist starts glowing like a fireball. “Bring it on, mutant!” yells Wilson, who probably pooped his pants just a little bit in spite of his hard-nosed outward demeanor.

This is when Spider-Man swoops in, and I’m blinded by the bulge in his crotch in this full-page spread. Don’t worry, I won’t subject you to this…uh… mesmerizing… … uhm

And this is where Karen McKarenPants the Intern gets a bunch of really good photos. Just dazzling. Pulitzer-worthy.

“Ha! Anyone talk to the guy with the glowing hand?” Jameson asks, face twisted into what I can only describe as a “pleasure grimace” (sorry). Betty Brant has those deets, sir! Goes by the name Danny Rand, and per a personal statement he’s not a mutant, but he has abilities like one! He has “mastered the ability to focus his spiritual energy into an impervious fist of iron”. Sounds like a mutation to me, guv’nor. But no, years of martial arts training and extreme focus. All the Spider-Man stories have inspired Rand to consider becoming a similar hero, but what’s holding him back? His Backstreet Boys good looks?

Witnesses corroborate Rand’s story that he was only involved to stop the fight, not to contribute.

But he was the one Spider-Man punched in the face. And now Rand doesn’t feel much like doing that kind of thing anymore.

Or how about “Masked Man Makes Mockery out of Mutant’s Management of Misappropriation Mishap”?

Urich doesn’t think this turd is worthy of the front page, but Jameson tries to sell him on the art. When that doesn’t sell him, Jameson pulls rank and tells him that it’s a done deal, and see you urchins at the 10am meeting!

NOT SO FAST, HOSS! Benny Boy still has more witness statements! “I was up about seven stories from where the action took place,” Urich begins. Jameson tries to interrupt and leave, but Urich presses on. “Now even though I know that every move I make is going to be criticized out the ying yang because I wear a mask–” Urich shoots a wry smile at Jameson, “–I take that chance.”

Ohhhh boy, now you’ve got J. Jonah Jameson’s Jumpers all nice and moist, buddy! Urich continues Spider-Man’s inexplicably audible self-narration. “And to any bystander with a brain in their head, the man with the glowing hand is the immediate concern. The man with the glowing hand might very well be out of the normal law enforcement’s league and something right up my unique alley,” Spider-Man beams to himself while clinging to the side of the building.

Although a little bit of Word and Excel never hurt anybody.

We see a series of action shots showing the ensuing takedown of Mr. Firehand. “So yeah, I made a mistake.” Spider-Man sheepishly claims. BUT, Tara Keegan WAS shoplifting, and she WASN’T pregnant, so he’d uppercut that bitch in a heartbeat if he could take it all back. He feels terrible about hitting Rand, and he knows that he’d be heartbroken too if the roles were reversed.

Especially since “someone who works at the newspaper just so happened to be standing there at that moment and…they just happened to take a picture that ended up being the only decent art on the editor’s desk that day.”

Ahhhh, my one true love. Gonna replace that ugly photo I’ve got on my desk with ol’… whatshername… … Wife.

Jameson sits there speechless, and then contorts his face in a subtle expression of bemused admiration. “All right… ok, all right… let me think about it,” he says, placing the photo back down. Robbie “Rob-Rob” Robertson, Jameson’s high-ranking editor, asks him what he thinks after everyone else in the room sits back down at their desks and plays Super Pong or whatever working people did at their desks to pass the time in 2002.

Jameson smiles.

“Run it. It’s good art.”

Final Thoughts

This self-contained story is a hit! I approve! Run it, I want to see it on the front page tomorrow. Get some good art on it, though, you college dropouts.