Invincible, Issue #2

* Part 2 of 4 of the Family Matters storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Invincible, Issue #2! In the previous installment, teenage Mark Grayson (not to be confused with Dick Grayson) is the son of Omni-Man, an incredible superhero with incredible superhero-type powers. Flying, strength, speediness, all the good stuff. Luckily for Mark, these powers are genetic. It’s too bad Omni-Man couldn’t fuck his powers into Mark’s mom, but she doesn’t seem to mind being a normie.

During his after-school job, Mark accidentally throws a bag of garbage 40,000 feet into the air and is excited to finally have his powers manifesting themselves in his puberty-soaked body. Now he gets to get all costumed up. His yellow and blue suit makes him look like a bug.

All he needs is a superhero name. And that name is “Invincible”. It’s going to be hard to live up to that one, son.

Invincible, Issue #2 [February, 2003]
Written by: Robert Kirkman

Issue #2 kicks off with Dad giving Mark the talk. And not just ANY “the talk”. This isn’t the usual one about the birds and the bees and the fucking. “We think you’re old enough for me to tell you where I really come from.”

Yuck, Dad, please don’t say Detroit. All respect will be lost. Please not Detroit. Not Cleveland either. The whole midwest is grounds for lost respect.

Omni-Man is from space like Super-Man, I guess. Dad was born on a planet called Viltrum, which is a vitamin you can get at Walgreens. The people who live there are similar to humans. They eat and sleep and breathe and secrete various fluids. They like watching Survivor. They just have abilities beyond that of puny, stupid little weaselly humans. Strength, flying, speed, the whole enchilada.

“Viltrum was a planet that had achieved a perfect global society. There was no illness, no murder, no war, it was a relative utopia.” Yeah, sure Dad. Until Vladimir Putin got his hands on it, then it became a heap of dogshit? Is Mark on the mark with that one? Do we need a consensus from the Funky Bunch?

The High Council refused to let the society become complacent. After all, one toe out of line could erupt in a riot of illness, murder, and war! Pictures of the Viltrum residents show a cavalcade of lovely mustaches. Maybe Mark can grow his own someday! It’s not the powers that make a man, it’s the bushiness of his mustache.

It was decided by the High Council of Viltrum to – and I’m going to use my own word here – infiltrate other worlds to assist in elevating lesser societies to the same level. It was agreed by all! And thus, the World Betterment Committee was formed.

After a hearty steak and eggs breakfast, the council searched for other planets with the potential to become greater and, for some reason, eventually that decided Earth fit the criteria.

Wrong. If Earth is going to get swarmed by space bugs, then it was meant to be. Natural selection at work.

Once all was well and good, teams of scientists were dispatched to each planet to personally assist in its advancement. Monitor its progress. Court the fine, young women. Play some Mario Kart 64. Eat a mountain. All the fun stuff that humans do!

Word got around that the World Betterment Committee was astoundingly successful at bettermenting other worlds! It became the most sought-after profession on Viltrum! Even after Sanitation Engineer, which paid upwards of $45 dollars per week!

Dad, when he came of age, signed up for duty as part of the search committee. He’s the chap who found Earth! What a dummy! He convinced the rest of the committee to do some official inspection of the planet, and it was deemed too primitive for Betterment! Dad was not going to give up! He grew fond of Earth after learning about the Great Pyramids and the Hot Pockets, and he didn’t want an opportunity squandered because his fellow Viltrumians didn’t wanna deal with Earthlings.

So he went anyway. Even though he was warned there might not be a chance of returning due to the planet’s location being too far away in the corner of the universe. Dad was like “fine”. Again, I don’t know why this was all worth it for him. So he can watch genocides and MAGA rallies and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas specials that he will never be able to stop?

“No amount of research could have prepared me for what I would experience upon my arrival,” he recounts upon landing in, possibly, New York City. Why, a rich diversity! People expressing their individuality! Dad was immediately smitten by the prospect of spending his days there! In fact, he almost forgot why he was there in the first place! Wow!

Oh yeah, then he remembered why he was there in the first place: to help the best he could. And with monsters, both human and inhuman, plus natural disasters and scorpions and Gary Busey, there was a lot to try to save humanity from.

It’s like How I Met Your Mother, except it won’t take nine years to get to the answer. Plus, Bob Saget’s dead.

It is revealed that Dad is talking to a younger Mark. a more innocent Mark. The kind of Mark who is playing with his Transformers on the coffee table. So, 15 years old? Or maybe 7, I dunno. They’re similar ages.

“…things are going to start to change for you in a few years as you hit puberty. You’re going to start to get acne. Your voice will start to crack and eventually change. You’ll begin to grow hair in strange and new places. You’re going to start looking at girls in a whole new light. There’s a good chance you’re going to start to develop super powers.”

BUH-WHAT! That last one was out of left field! What’s this now about puberty powers? That was Mark’s only takeaway: that he’ll be learning to fly. Sounds good to me too. I would’ve taken a face full of craters if it meant I could fly around town. And, yes, I, of course, had perfect skin throughout my teenage years. Like porcelain.

Current Day Mark lies in his bed late at night ruminating about his new powers. “Yeah… I can fly…”

Then he’s tired of not flying! “Screw this,” he says as he gets up from his bed and moves toward his window. And, like any red-blooded American teenage boy in his position, he flies right to the game store! He catches a big, beefy fucker who appears to be stealing pallets of video game consoles right out of the store’s dock. NO MAS! Those Xbox Series Xs are MARK’s! *punch*

Sucks for Mark, though, since this guy is made of tough stuff.

Now boys, there’s enough Playstation 5’s to go around! No need to… you know, kill each other.

“Aren’t you out a little past your bedtime, young man?” the unnamed villain asks with a face that suggests concern rather than scorn. Maybe he really doesn’t want Mark to be cranky in the morning. Mark takes this as another challenge, but before he can touch the guy again there’s a loud BOOM!

They both look up to see four superhero types in a flying motorcycle craft of sorts. The guy who BOOMed is like “don’t make me BOOM harder” and asks who started this fight. This fight that was barely anything to begin with. “I’ll give you one guess,” says the guy who was stealing Nintendos before grabbing their vehicle and throwing it to the ground. The newly-arrived superheroes leap out just in time. The Four of them sure look Fantastic, if I do say so myself.

Before the Fantastik Fore are able to come up with a better plan, Mark clocks this guy across the mug without much effort and knocks him unconscious. Good work! Let’s call it an evening already.

Two guys and two girls. One cup. Heh. One girl looks at Mark’s pajama bottoms and compliments his costume. He tries very hard to not pop a boner. “Um… do I know you?” he asks her, fidgeting awkwardly. She doesn’t… maybe… he looks familiar… hmm… maybe she watched him pop a boner once at the fast food place he worked at? Or maybe they were both waiting in line at the Orange Julius at the mall and she noticed he had popped a boner? Oh well, doesn’t matter right now at the very moment. They all make with the formalities.

“I’m M– I mean, Invincible,” the kid in the pajamas bottoms introduces himself to what is called the Teen Team! There’s Robot, Atom Eve, Rex Splode, and Dupli-Kate. Dupli-Kate had duplikated and fixed up their ride, so they say a hearty goodbye and leave Mark alone. I’m sure he hasn’t seen the last of them! Sounds like a good team to join. The Teen Team! Unless you’re Matthew McConaughey, who keeps getting older. Ya know.

FORESHADOWING! Eve is gonna tear this kid a new giant b-hole.

The next day at school, Mark bumps into the un-costumed Atom Eve. “Hah! I knew it.”

“Hey, it’s you,” Eve says, not at all pretending to not know the kid at all for reasons I personally can’t fathom. “We’ve been in biology together all this time…” she sort-of smiles. It’s subtle enough for me to think there might actually be a sort of “get the fuck away from me” body language going on.

Mark yawns while Eve talks and apologizes. He was up all night, you see. Running around town half-naked. Eve doesn’t care, she knows how it is! Running around town half-naked, and that’s during her off-hours. Ha cha cha cha!

School’s out and they walk down the front steps. “Listen,” she tells him, “we’re following up on the incident from last night today. You’re welcome to tag along if you like.”

BONER POP! “I’d love to.”

She drags him behind a dumpster where I can only assume they undress in front of each other before they fly off. Unnoticed, of course, because, per Eve, “you’d be surprised how rarely people ever look up.”

I look up all the time! Every plane I see coming in or flying out of O’Hare looks like it’s going to crash. I’ve got my phone at the ready at all times.

They mosey over to TEEN TEAM HQ, where Robot is already checking out some parking lot security cam footage. He compliments Invincible on his real superhero costume. Dupli-Kate and Rex Splode are out on a mission. “He’ll be of good use, tonight,” he says of Mark. I imagine they’ll be using him as a flailing distraction while the both of them do some real hero work.

Robot pulls them into what he’s been up to that afternoon. He wiped Mauler’s memory of the robbery last night. Mauler is the guy who attempted the robbery last night! See, look at me! That’s called keeping up with the story, why don’t you try it sometime? Robot kept him near the toy store; perhaps they’ll get some more clues as to what he intended to do with pallets of Playstations and Sega Saturns and ColecoVisions. Time to get over to the store! HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HIKE!

Boner popping confirmed.

They find Mauler right by the toy store where Robot left him. He didn’t even go to Starbucks or anything for a quick frappuccino! Just stood there like a catatonic cow. But now he’s headed toward another building where he opens a door and finds another blue guy inside with a scientist lab coat and scientist goggles. I think he’s a scientist. He also has overalls, like some sort of hayseed scientist.

“Where have you been? We need those processors!” rebukes the hayseed scientist. “We’re not going to have enough to power the robots without that new shipment!”

Hold your horses, guv’nor. Everything’s jake. Except that it’s not! All he remembers is going to get those toys last night… and then fade to black. Sorry, boss. I mean, do we really need to power those robots? It’s just that–

“I don’t think you realize how important our work here is,” continues the scientist, treating Mauler like some sort of child who can’t handle the simple task of stealing an entire pallet of video game consoles from the toy store in the dead of night. They need those processors badly. They needed them yesterday! A week ago! 1967! What do you have to say for yourself???

Scientist opens a door, showing an army of robots within. “I’m not sure our plans can wait that long,” he says, referencing the next shipment that won’t be for another month. If the chip shortage is any indiciation, it’ll actually be well into 2024! That’s a long time to wait for your army of robots to start murdering some real bumbling buffoons.

“I think we’ve heard enough.” The Teen Team Lite announces their presence! Much to the chagrin of the two blue guys, who are startled and angered. Invincible and Atom Eve are going to take care of Mr. Scientist. Robot is going to handle Mr. Thievery Fugue. And then the beat-’em-up happens.

I want the Xbox’s! Gimme the Xbox’s! Daddy’s got his Mountain Dew and Doritos ready to go!

Invincible punches a guy in the face and Robot is like “Wow! Join our team!” Invincible smiles like “fuck yeah, Dad’s gonna be so proud and mad.”

Our issue ends with a man sleeping on a bench inside the local mall. He wakes up, groggy.

“Where am I?” he says, bewildered and patting his torso. Something’s not right.

He opens his shirt, revealing a bomb on his chest with one second left on it! AHHHH!!!–

BOOM!

Final Thoughts

Shit moves fast in Mark Grayson’s world. One minute he throws a bag of garbage high in the sky, the next minute he’s thwarting blue dudes and their ambitions to raise a robot army with a cohort of other teenage superheroes. Now a guy exploded in the mall? It’s madness.

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The Eye of the World (Book 1) – Chapter 38: “Rescue”

As we already knew, Perrin and Egwene are a couple of wusses who have gotten all kinds of captured by the Whitecloaks. Thinking that the two of them are Darkfriends, the Whitecloaks force them to march leashed to horses as the caravan makes their way to Caemlyn, force them to sleep in the freezing cold, and force them to watch reruns of That ’70s Show until their eyeballs strain to leap out of their sockets.

One night, Byar (the jerk who seems emotionless about torturing and killing children) tells Perrin and Egwene that the Whitecloaks are behind schedule on their arrival to Caemlyn. In short, these lousy kids are slowing everyone down. If it just so happens that these prisoners were to escape the clutches of the Whitecloaks, then the Whitecloaks would have no choice but to move on without them and consequently arrive on time to Caemlyn for whatever important business awaits. The important business is likely something like “fellating the Archduke of Caemlyn”, which must be carried out in a timely fashion. Byar throws Perrin a rock to cut himself free from his ropes, which Perrin doesn’t trust one fucking bit.

Before Perrin has a chance to decide what to do, and before Byar has a chance to reconsider his decision to help Perrin and Egwene free themselves, LAN THE MAN appears to cold-cock a bitch or two. Byar is knocked out, Perrin and Egwene are freed, the Pattern is Woven in the Web around the Axle in the Hub of the Wheel of Time and Space and Freedom, Amen. Moiraine and Nynaeve are there too. It is surely a reunion to end all reunions.

Later, the group sets up camp and Nynaeve heals Perrin’s many awful injuries with barely even a touch, which surprises him and frightens her. While healing Perrin, Nynaeve notices yellow irises in Perrin’s eyes. This takes even the ever-stoic Moiraine aback, who just says it’s now part of the Pattern and everyone should just shut up and move on after implying that it’s some sort of taint of the dark one.

Perrin and Lan talk for a bit. Lan recognizes the name Elyas and tells Perrin that the man used to be a Warder. Best in the business! Maybe. I’m making that up. When Perrin asks if he has been tainted by the Satan end of the good-bad spectrum, Lan hesitates and thinks he hasn’t been… but he doesn’t know for sure. Which means “yes” probably. All part of the Pattern, nothing one can do about it now. Roll with it.

For the 900th time in the series so far, Perrin is not filled with much confidence.

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Death Note, Vol. 2, Chapter 9 – “Slots”

* Part 1 of 9 of Vol. 2 – “Confluence” *

Welcome to Manga Cum Loudly Presents: Death Note, Vol. 2, Chapter 9: “Slots”! In the previous installment, Raito foils L super hard this time. He kills a bunch of FBI agents, which freaks out the FBI boss, which causes the FBI boss to pull out of the Kira investigation completely, which causes the Japanese police to start distrusting L, which causes L to start losing his cool a little bit.

Raito kills Raye Penber. We all had a good laugh there.

Death Note, Vol. 2, Ch. 9
Written by: Tsugumi Ohba
Illustrated by: Takeshi Obata
“Slots”

L’s standing at his balcony mourning the death of some guy he worked with. Maybe because it was definitely his fault! He didn’t just die, though. He was murdered! Like, killed by a kid with a piece of paper and a pen! How do you like them apples?

“Each of the twelve investigators had documents with their names and faces on them. If Kira can control the victims’ last actions, then he must have known…” L ruminates.

Ok, sidebar time. Are manga fans so dense that they need their characters to constantly speak about events that have already happened? Is this really the only way to show that L is understanding more and more about what’s going on? By condescending toward their dense audience of hyperactive pre-teen girls who like to go ^_^

End sidebar. L keeps fucking talking and I’m bored reading about it over and over again. Kira manipulated his way into getting information and used it to kill a whole bunch of FBI agents. Sounds like a federal crime! Good thing he’ll never go to the United States where he’d be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law! (a cop killing him with a knee on his neck)

“The important thing isn’t what order they died in, but the order in which they received the file…” A lightbulb goes off in L’s head. This doesn’t sound like an important thing to me at all. It sounds like another red herring that will lead to 400 more people dying by tomorrow while Raito eats a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and jerks off to some of his mom’s Nordstrom catalogs.

Did everyone get their family-meeting cups of eggnog? Good, good.

Speaking of Raito, at the Yagami household the family all sit at their dining room table. Ryuuku is not part of the family, but he stands behind Raito with a hungry, elated look on his clowny face.

“Why are we having a family meeting?” Raito’s sister, Sayu, asks happily, leaning over the table with her hands on her chin, “There’s only three days before the New Year.”

Ah, certainly, family meetings are rare right before the New Year! Everyone knows that. What a weird family doing it now. “I don’t want to tell you this, but you’d find out sooner or later anyways,” their father explains, speaking like a ten-year-old, “I am currently the head of the Kira case.”

Sayu thinks that’s pretty gnarly. Mr. Yagami tells her to cork it; this is serious business! Serious police-like business! Twelve people DIED yesterday. FBI guys! A serious criminal offense…as far as he’s aware. *shrug*

Raito smirks. He looks like he badly wants to take credit. “It seems that anyone who chases Kira will lose their lives,” the Yagami patriarch continues, aware that his family isn’t really letting the point sink in. Detectives who answer to him are resigning left and right. Seems they don’t want to die, for whatever reason. It’s odd. BUT, Mr. Yagami realizes that these guys have a point. Nobody wants to die at their job! At least not by accident.

Sayu panics and tells her dad to quit too. She doesn’t want him to die! Mrs. Yagami agrees with her daughter and urges her husband to resign immediately. Raito’s kind of indifferent about it.

And if anyone tries to make me step away from crime, I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.

“No, I’ll never give up,” he says, humorlessly sipping his cup of super-thick eggy eggy eggnog, “I will not back away from crime.” How very noble of you, moron. Raito doesn’t even love you. Remember when Raito was five years old and he stole a cookie from the jar before dinner? Mr. Yagami caned him until he was permanently paralyzed from the buttocks down! You don’t forget a thing like that!

“If anything happens to you, I will personally put an end to Kira,” Raito tells his father as he starts slinking out of the dining room. Pops eyeballs him with suspicion. Raito really isn’t very smart.

“Nice acting, Raito,” Ryuuku lies as they both head up the stairs. He also makes a point to let his human buddy know how impressed he is that he slaughtered twelve FBI agents with a stroke of a pen. That takes finesse! Raito doesn’t seem too big on celebrating right now, possibly because he knows that he’ll need to kill his own father in about fifteen chapters.

Let’s take our minds off of that unpleasantness for the time being, as much as I personally relish the thought of Raito writing “MR. YAGAMI – EATS HIS BOOGERS TO DEATH” in his notebook. He and Ryuuku mosey over the underground mall where they do some people-watching.

“Let me show you the results of the experiments I’ve done in the past six days,” Raito says, eyes looking shifty, head buried under a stupid winter hat. “Experiments?” Ryuuku says deliciously, like the word was so much lovely honey, his eyeballs pointed in two different directions sort of. Yes, experiments! Raito found new ways to kill people! Let’s watch:

“First I wrote the date, time, and cause of death…” explains our “hero”, “…the results are the same even if I write the name last.”

“Oh…interesting…” responds Ryuuku like he hasn’t been using the Death Note himself for the last 700 billion years already. Also, this is objectively NOT interesting.

Raito sees his mark. It’s Raye Penber, back from the grave! OR, I’m stumbling upon some non-linear storytelling. MORE LIKELY he’s a zombie.

Keep an eye on the guy the with bright, blinding halo around his head. You might miss him if you look away.

Time for action. Check this shit out, you dumbass death god: Raito pulls his hoodie over his head and approaches Penber from behind. “I am Kira,” he mumbles, probably in the exact same voice he had used to talk to Penber on the bus, “if you turn around or put your hands in your pockets, I will kill you on the spot.”

Penber goes BBBRT!! HRRRNTT!! and immediately recognizes the voice…but FROM WHENCE? From whence indeed…

Raito is going to prove he’s Kira by murdering someone twenty feet away just by looking at him. Penber urges him to reconsider doing a murder, but Raito goes NO! I’LL KILL ONE TRILLION PEOPLE TO PROVE MYSELF! WATCH: *smite*

Don’t worry, dearest Penby, the man in question has committed a real smorgasbord of rapes over the last 40 years! Kira’s just ridding the world of serial rapists, among other unseemly individuals…like FBI agents, perhaps? Hee hee hee. Who’s to say they’re not rapists as well?? I’ve seen Fox Mulder in Californication; that guy couldn’t keep it in his pants to save his life. Especially the rape victims! Where was I?

Anyway, let’s cut to the chase, Penber. If that IS your real, awful, wiener name. Your fiancée? Kira’s gonna kill the shit out of her if you don’t cooperate, you dig? Her, you, your family, your dog, everybody. Your high school bully, your other FBI friends, your FBI bullies, and Agent Skinner! Don’t test him.

Raito asks Penber if he has a file on his laptop with a list of all the FBI agents in Japan. Penber is like HELL NO THAT’S REALLY STUPID. So Raito passes him an envelope and tells him to take out the transmitter and earphones and put ‘em on.

Is your refrigerator running?…

SO, Penber’s gonna get an earful of this 17-year-old child’s directions or he’s going to write RAYE PENBER DIES FROM A DIARRHEA VOMIT and that will be that. Raito tells him to get on the train and sit near a window. Look at the clouds for a bit. Relax. Also do what he says or else! But relax… but he had better listen or it’s diarrhea mouth! But take a load off…

The questioning commences! Cue the trumpets! How many FBI agents are there? Twelve! DING! So call one that you outrank and tell him you need all the names and faces of all the FBI agents traipsing around Japan. Just be like “yo, I have a stupid request for you that sounds extremely suspicious,” but better than that. Be imaginative!

So it happens. Penber is instructed to write all the names on a type of hanging chad piece of paper from the envelope. He complies and writes down some kickass names like “Freddi Guntair” and “Arire Weekwood” and “Lian Zapack”. Some real salt of the earth, heartland of America type people! Real Pluggers.

All done writing these names? Good. Stick it up your ass! Ha! Gross! Just kidding. Wait 30 minutes and then put it on the luggage rack above you. Then wait until the coast is clear. Then get the hell off the train.

THE CLIMAX! THE TWIST! OHHH, THE HUMANITY! Penber disembarks and immediately clutches his chest. Collapsing on the platform, sweating like John Belushi after an evening of speedballs, the last person he sees before the train doors close is that snot-nosed dweeb from the hijacked bus! Good god, man! ARRRRGGHH! FOILED! You little scamp! You’re gonna get such a noogie!

I am SO gonna beat the shit out of you when you get down to Hell.

With his packet of juicy, juicy information secured, Raito runs home and cracks open that bad boy at his bedroom desk. Tee hee, time to get out the murder book! The penis mightier than the sword, my friends.

Other fantastic American FBI names are as follows: Halley Bell, Knick Staek, Bess Seklett, and Frigde Copen. Simply beautiful.

Anyway, they’re all dead. Final Thoughts time.

Final Thoughts

Here’s a final thought for you. I’m going downtown tomorrow and legally changing my name to Knick Staek.

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Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #9 – “B Level (Part 4)”

* Part 4 of 4 of the B Level storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #9 – “B Level (Part 4)”! In the previous installment, Jessica spends the better part of the issue trying to get Rick Jones to cough up information about anything, and it turns out that he’s pretty paranoid about getting sniped by some alien. He has had a bounty on his head since the end of the Kree-Skrull War and he’s not about to let some guy like E.T. blow his brains out! Unless he actually wants him to blow his brains out sexually, which might actually be fun?

Finally, Rick agrees to let the Avengers help, but he runs away again while Jessica is on the phone trying to get ahold of someone at the Mansion. This is the end of the arc, which honestly kind of sucks, but let’s see how they wrap this up in a neat little poop-filled package.

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #9 [July, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“B Level (Part 4)”

Jessica is on the street, phone to her ear. Looking around the crowds, she manages to get through to the “Avengers Mansion emergency hotline”. That sounds like something they’d stick Peter Parker with. Hey, kid, sit at the desk and take these calls while the real superheroes go fight various crimes. Do not, under any circumstances, jerk off while we’re gone. There are cameras everywhere, we keep telling you that.

But no, this is an automated recording prompting Jessica to leave a voicemail. Jessica ums and uhs and uhms her way through the message, explaining that she tried reaching Danvers with little success, that she was hired by Rick Jones’ wife to find him, that there’s a bounty on Rick’s head by the Skrulls, that she lost him in the crowd after he flipped the fuck out for the fifth time that evening, so please put aside differences or whatever and help out. Thank you.

Her next call is to Jane Jones. Jessica ums and uhs and uhms her way through the message and tells her to call her back.

Next, she checks her email. Hmm…spam, porn, spam, porn, spam, oooooh, some good porn! *click* *virus* *restart* *revert to last restore point* *check email* aha, remember that married, but gay, guy Jessica was catfishing back in Issue #6? Because I didn’t! She got an email from him!

Because it’s that VERY SAME GOVERNMENT which… oh, never mind.

“No more games. It’s time to meet, dying to meet you. Lets [sic] be adventurous. Meet me at the Starbucks at 43rd and Lexington. I’ll be wearing a blue sweater with…”

We don’t see the rest of the email, but I think the rest of the sentence is “…’I’M GAY’ written in bright yellow letters.”

Finally, something went right for a change. Jessica’s gonna catch this guy, collect a paycheck, and buy a lot of Bagel Bites. “Ooooh, at a Starbucks,” she thinks. “How incredibly uninteresting on every level.” Whatever, lady, you like it.

Exhausted from being up all night chasing Rick the Dick, and finished with her various correspondences, she falls asleep on her laptop.

The sound of someone talking on her phone slowly rousts her awake. “Yo man, I heard you. And then I asked: in what regards is this phone call about? As in: why are you calling, mutha fucka?!”

This is the dumbass from Issue #6 that popped into her office just because he was a fan. He asks the guy on the phone “what the fuck kind of name is Jarvis” before Jessica gets up, snatches the phone, and tells the pissant to get the hell out of her office.

It’s Jarvis at the Avengers Mansion returning her call! I don’t know no Jarvis, but he looks like he performs various sexual favors for the Avengers teams (judging from his bow-tie). Jarvis is calling on behalf of Captain America, who stuck Jarvis with the call because he’s too busy humping his shield.

Heh, sir, you’ve got my guy confused with Rick Springfield. One’s a superhero, see, and the other is some dumbshit I lost last night.

Jarvis confirms that Rick Jones is in Los Angeles, which confuses Jessica to NO END. “We are aware of a man – a young man who fancies the idea of calling himself Rick Jones. We’re not sure if he’s ill or just a mischievous young man – but we have run into him before.”

Yeah right, buddy. Who are we going to believe? “Rick Jones” and his shifty, bipolar behavior and his insistence that his wife is insane, or Jarvis, some credible guy calling from the Avengers Mansion claiming that this “Rick Jones” may not be who he says he is? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go thoroughly fuck youself, Jarvis.

This guy cooked up a whole story based on the real Rick Jones’ book, the one that the real Jessica Jones has been really reading in the last couple of days. The real Rick Jones is fine. The imposter Rick Jones may not be fine, but who gives a shit? “Captain America wanted to tell you not to worry about this and he sends you his best regards.”

Uh huh. Uh huh. Ok, now what? Now what, Jarvis? HUH?

The kid is still there.

“Shitty news?” he asks.

“Are you still here?”

“Sorry I didn’t answer the phone right.”

“Please go.”

“What happened?”

Do you kiss your church with that mouth?

“Why are you up my ass, kid?” Jessica asks, glaring.

“Someone fucked you over?”

“Yes.”

“You gonna kick their ass?”

“Thinking about it, yes.”

“Can I have a job?”

Jessica buries her face in her hands. The last she needs is… well, hold on.

“What’s your name again?”

“Malcolm.”

“Malcolm, can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Can you fuck off?”

Heh.

Later, Jessica catches Rick Imposter-Jones playing in the park. He’s supposed to be taking requests but he’s really, really bad at it. And guess who’s cuddled up next to him on the bench? Why, it’s none other than…

GEORGE COSTANZA! *slap bass*

Or, rather, Jane Jones. “AAAAGGGHHHH!” Jane screams after spotting the approaching Jessica Not-Imposter-Jones. She runs toward her… and… AND…

She hugs her. “Jessica! Jessica! You found him! You’re so awesome!”

Rick looks over sheepishly. Jane continues being effusively grateful. Jessica appears salty while both of them thank her for all her efforts. “And you were a huge help,” Rick tells her. “Was I?” she responds. “Yes you were, and now I have my Janey back,” he responds back. “Yay!” says Jane.

…

Jessica lets the silence hang for a minute.

“How did it work out? The trouble you were in?”

*record scratch*

Rick’s not about to talk about it now! He smiles smugly. Jane is happy. Everyone wins!

Fine, whatever. It’s Starbucks time, bitches. She sits with a cup of coffee and awaits her mark. A man walks into the shop talking on the phone with his secretary. He sits down next to Jessica, somewhat exasperated, after finishing the phone call. He is DEFINITELY not wearing a blue fucking sweater.

“What kind of doctor are you?” she asks him.

“Psychotherapist.”

Oh, excellent! Jessica Jones could use three or four of those.

Don’t even ask me to pass you a napkin without making an appointment. I’m a very busy man.

She tells this man that she met a guy who is pretending to be someone who he is not – allegedly. Even though his story is full of holes and he seems shifty and untrustworthy, everyone – everyone, including her – keeps getting suckered in. What’s that about? Where’s all that charm coming from? …and how can I get some of that? This is Tom speaking now. I want some of that charm. Oh wait, I got it in spades baby. *puts on sunglasses*

Mr. Psychotherapist has an expert diagnosis for this: pseudologia fantastica. Actually, he says “pseudologica” which proves already that he’s shit at his job, so anything he says now should NOT be listened to! Anyway, listen up: people start with small lies, they seem to work, they work their way up to grandiose lies, and those seem to work too. Eventually, when the lie is so big that no one could possibly believe them, the part of their brain that should be attuned to this isn’t functioning properly. So the lies get even bigger, and they eventually get SO big that people come back around and start to believe all over again.

“See, that’s what I – I –” Jessica is at a loss for words here. “…I mean, why do they believe them?”

“Because they want to,” he responds, sipping his sludgy $9 coffee. “People are desperate for excitement. They want to know famous people … So badly do they not want to be ordinary.”

“The peasants want the kings to come down and play.”

This particular phrase sits well with Jessica. This psychotherapist has a couple of examples at the ready: some guy in Manhattan who told people he was Victor Von Doom’s kid just to crash parties. A 27-year-old Iranian guy enrolled in a high school and told everyone he was Steven Spielberg’s 14-year-old nephew. Crazy stuff. Real cuckoo bonkers. And they roam around like everyday people. Nuts. Looney toons.

This guy didn’t have to open up to her. But he did. He helped her, now she returns the favor.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady! My wife is both Jodie Foster AND Uncle Jesse from Full House and I have a rocket car that takes me to Mars on weekends.

The dude does his little “oh shit” and gets out of dodge.

“They believe because they want to believe,” she says to herself. “Pssss….”

I believe she meant “pffft”. That other sound sounds like a bathroom noise!

She continues to sit nursing her coffee, thinking about the previous night with Rick Jones. A scene we didn’t see. About an hour before the Fantastic Four’s building opened up to the public, they sat talking in a diner.

“So, kind of a crazy night, huh?” Jessica breaks some of that thick, thick ice.

She tells him she read his book. All of it. It really got to her, you know. Lots of stuff resonated with her and all that jazz. She goes into some specifics about the insecurities detailed in the pages, the kind we’ve already seen before, and Rick keeps looking at her like a deer in the headlights.

“Like my body would freak out and say: ‘Don’t be here. This isn’t where regular people should be’,” she says, discussing the feeling of people around the real heroes.

“But you have powers? Right?” he hazards the question.

“I know. I know. I can’t explain it. It’s just – let’s just say it’s one of the many, many reasons that I know that I shouldn’t have been wearing the costume.”

I mean, it’s cool that she finally met someone who felt the same way! Kindred spirits! Besties! He tries to deflect and change the subject, of course, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

And she smiles. She sits and smiles.

And she feels like a fool.

“‘The peasants want the kings to come down and play.’ Fuck.”

Final Thoughts

How do we know for sure that this Rick Jones really isn’t the REAL Rick Jones? Never mind the fact that he was workin’ it to get laid and he seemed very shifty and he never seemed to know what Jessica was talking about… but I don’t trust that Jarvis guy as much as I can throw his bow-tie to the moon. And I can’t do that!

Nice story arc, I suppose. I’ll see you again soon Jessica “Rick” Jones.

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Write Your Damn Book

Jesus, Snoopy. You make it look so easy.

I’m trying to write a book. In reality, it’s more like I’m trying to continue liking the idea of writing a book. Sorry, my book. I’m trying to write my book. I’m trying to continue liking the idea of writing my book.

This was the best idea I’ve ever had. It’s clearly going to be a New York Times Best Seller and I’m going to get rich and famous touring the country visiting thousands of bookstores that don’t exist and signing autographs for thousands of people who also don’t exist. The more I think about it, the more I realistically believe that it could have widespread appeal. I believe people would actually talk about it with each other, recommend it to their family and friends, buy copies for Christmas and/or Passover and/or Talk Like a Pirate Day celebrations, and place expensive hardbound editions on their pristine expensive coffee tables! …I just have to write the damn thing.

Without giving too much away, because all you Tom Writes About Stuff readers are clamoring to steal my generously so-called “intellectual property” from right under my perfect, handsome nose, the story’s narrative is interwoven in point-of-view chapters about fifty different people. The plot revolves around the main character: a dead guy. The story is nonlinear, with pieces of the overall plot revealing themselves at different points of the story’s 24-hour timeline. Threads of plot will come from characters’ own thoughts, casual conversations, overheard discussions between other characters, and events that may unfold from more than one perspective. Have you ever read a non-fantasy book with fifty characters? What the fuck am I even thinking? Who is going to read this?

Everyone. Because it’s going to be amazing. I just have to write the damn thing.

My character family tree doesn’t look quite like this, but you get the gist.

I spent days upon days crafting a sort of family tree, linking characters and their relationships to one another and their relationships to the dead guy. I named all the characters. I gave them ages and interests. Some are sad that the guy is dead. Some are angry. Some don’t give a shit whatsoever. Some are even relieved! Only one person was there while he died. What does he know? What doesn’t he know? What do I know about what he knows? I know some stuff, I know his feelings about the situation, and I know why he feels the way he feels.

It’s all very entertaining, realistically paced, and not corny. It’s going to be fun to piece it all together. I just have to write the damn thing.

I have all the locations picked out. I’m currently working on a chart that shows me where each of the fifty characters are during the 24-hour period. Some will spend most of that day at home. Most will not. Almost all of them will be sleeping at 2am, but a few characters certainly will not be. Why would they? It doesn’t make sense for them to be sound asleep at that hour. Next I’ll need to track who talks to who and when. I need to make sure there are no continuity errors. I need to make sure someone isn’t in two places at once. I need to make sure a character is around at the right place at the right time to overhear a conversation between two other characters. I need to make sure those characters aren’t supposed to be somewhere else at that moment.

That part will the most fun for me. I can’t put a big dent into the story until I have that all hashed out, oh no no no. That would be inconceivable! Then, and only then, can I really begin to write the damn thing.

Pictured: The little brat featured in Chapter 1.

I’ve already written Chapter 1. It’s about 700 words. The little 3-year-old girl is running around the room, oblivious to the deeper meaning of her uncle’s death. She doesn’t know what’s going on. It’s just another day for her. She’s looking for mommy, she has all the Goldfish crackers. Daddy tries to tell her that her uncle is dead, but she’s looking forward to seeing him at Christmas. It’s all very bittersweet. This is how the audience will learn that the main character is dead, from the point of view of a toddler. It’s genius. I can’t wait to write the other 49 chapters! Some day.

I bought a Scrivener license. It’s this kick-ass writing software that acts as an interactive binder. You can set up plot notes, character sheets, folders for chapter sections, and other 500 excellent organizational features. It’s the only way I could fathom keeping track of 50 different perspectives. It has been an absolute joy to use this thing, not even exaggerating. They’re not paying me a cent to say any of this stuff, it’s all coming from the bottom of my withered gray heart.

Of course, I found it exceptionally useful for sorting artists and albums for writing notes and reviews for my Discography Deep Dive blog feature. In fact, I’m spending more time working on that than my book, but I’ll get back to writing my book. Why wouldn’t I get back to writing the damn thing?

Now that I think harder about it, I’m spending an awful lot of time reading comic books, watching TV, watching movies, reading novels, playing video games, and listening to music so that I can focus a lot of my time writing blog content. I love writing in this blog, and it will likely be my #1 writing priority. Certainly, though, once I have more time outside of writing all about all my blog-related interests, I’ll carve enormous chunks out of my damn book. I promise.

Maybe I shouldn’t have written about writing my damn book. Instead of spending 1,000 words writing about the book, I could’ve actually written a little of the damn thing itself.

Next time.

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Invincible, Issue #2 [February, 2003] Written by: Robert Kirkman

Final Thoughts

Death Note, Vol. 2, Ch. 9 Written by: Tsugumi Ohba Illustrated by: Takeshi Obata “Slots”

Final Thoughts

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #9 [July, 2002] Written by: Brian Michael Bendis “B Level (Part 4)”

Final Thoughts

Invincible, Issue #2 [February, 2003]
Written by: Robert Kirkman

Death Note, Vol. 2, Ch. 9
Written by: Tsugumi Ohba
Illustrated by: Takeshi Obata
“Slots”

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #9 [July, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“B Level (Part 4)”