Author’s Note: This is the first fan fiction I ever wrote about Marvel. It takes place around 1994, during the time when Thunderstrike, Red Norvell, Dargo, Beta Ray Bill, and the like were around. The story takes place in the Marble universe, where the Mighty Sore (a humorous version of Thor) lived in the hallowed halls of Jazzguard.
(Page 1, panel 1. The throne room of Jazzguard. Sore, God of Blunder stands in the center of the room, facing his father, the all-father Schmodin. Other Jazzguardians are nearby.)
Sore: I am Mighty Sore!
Bullstag: Have you tried Aspercreme?
(Panel 2. Sore gestures to the other Sore clones.)
Sore: First, thou hast gone and made a redheaded version of me - with yon Red Noel. Then thou hast madeth an alien version of me, in the form of Gamma Ray Gus. Next thou makest a me of the future in the form of Torgo. Now thou hast made a blundering incompetent version of me in the form of Dumbstrike!
(Panel 3. The Sore rip-offs try to calm him down.)
Dumbstrike: Dude, like, chill out, o.k? Like, it’s majorly uncool to have a cow.
Torgo: M-n-He’s just letting off.... steam, Dumbstrike. M-n-just let him say his peace.
(Panel 4. Sore raises his enchanted yoohoo hammer.)
Sore: Enough! Thou hast madeth a mockeryth ofth theth Godeth of Blundereth! There is but one true Sore in this realm - me! Only one doth be worthy of wielding my mystic yoohoo hammer! Thy clones doth be lame!
Stiff: Sore baby, you’re out of touch with the times. We’ve had to make some new yous to keep up with the trends. Ooh, that hurt. I can’t move well...
(Panel 5. Schmodin intervenes.)
Schmodin: Lady Stiff, be silent. I hath my reasons for making these clones which are mine alone.
Sore: I shall not standest by and let yon motley crew maketh mincemeat of the name of the one true God of Blunder!
(Page 2, panel 1. Suddenly the wall crashes down, and we see Hokey leading a band of villains. Among them are: Remora the Enchanted, Carzilla the North Queen, Dumbaxe, and Iman the supermodel Ice Giant.)
Hokey: What doth this be? A party, and I was not invited? Why, I doth be disappointed in thee, my adopted father.
Sore: Hokey!
Schmodin: Thou were not invited for a reason, Hokey... thou always be the death of parties. The last one you were at suddenly died just by you walking into the room!
(Panel 2. Hokey approaches Schmodin.)
Hokey: Thou always hast all the fun! Well, no more! I, Hokey, the son of Lawfrey, shall put and end to these tactics anon!
(Panel 3. Sore strikes Hokey in the head with his hammer. Stars of pain abound.)
Sore: Enough! This day doth be my day to rant, not thine, villain! Thou must waitest thy turn!
SFX: WHAM!!
(Panel 4. Hokey staggers backwards.)
Hokey: Hey, no fair... you have a weapon and I don’t...
(Panel 5. Hokey and company vanish.)
Hokey: I’ll be back, my brother....
(Page 3, panel 1. Hokey and company disappear.)
Sore: Now, where doth I be?
Torgo: You’re m-n-in the Hall of n-n unnecessary osten-n-n-tation, Sore.
(Panel 2. Sore strikes Torgo with his hammer, sending Torgo back and out.)
Sore: Enough! Thou must makest these clones disappear!
(Panel 3. Dumbstrike approaches Sore.)
Dumbstrike: Dude, like, don’t have a cow, okay? See, like, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, okay?
Sore: Of all the clones, thou were my least favorite!
Schmodin: Stop this at once! My son, I have to explain this... for uncounted centuries, I hath sat on the throne of Asguard... but the royal treasury doth be depleted of late, as we have to spend countless amounts of gold repairing Bifrost every time it shatters. Therefore, I hath granted licensees to these mortals in exchange for some gold. Thou are not alone in being licensed, my son.
(Panel 4. Enter about 4 variations on Lady Stiff, all beautiful women with various hair and eye colors. All are dress similarly to Sif, and wield swords.)
Schmodin: Let me introduce you to the licensees of Lady stiff: We have Marcella Irone
Dumbstrike: Dude, major bummer. My ex-old woman’s now a licensee too.
Marcella: Hey, I had to do something to keep up with you, bozo.
(Panel 5. Enter 4 variations on Hokum the grin.)
Schmodin: And these doth be licensees of Hokum the grin -
Sore: Stop this at once!
(Page 4, panel 1. Sore bangs his mallet on the ground, sending all but himself to the floor.)
Sore: Jazzguard hath not existed all this time to become the pawn of crass commercialism! I say thee nay to selling out!
(Panel 2. Schmodin stands.)
Schmodin: Did I mention thou doth receive a percentage of the licensees?
Not to mention thy clones doth hath to deal with thine old enemies.
Sore: The mighty Sore shall never succumb to such evil!
(Panel 3. Schmodin holds a check up to Sore, who gets dollar signs in his eyes. We see only the back of the check.)
Sore: [gradually calmer] I will ne’er allow my name to be - used - in...
Schmodin: Thou shouldst look at thine first check ere thou decidest, my son.
(Panel 4. Sore takes the check.)
Dumbstrike: Dude, I think he likes it.
Sore: Forsooth... ne’er hath mine eyes beheld such a large amount of money... mayhap I hath been too hasty in judgement...
(Page 5, panel 1. Sore takes the check as Hokey and his team reenter.)
Hokey: Ah-ha! I hath returned!
Sore: Another time, perhaps. I hath a check to deposit in the bank if Jazzguard!
(Panel 2. Sore flies off.)
Hokey: Argh! Curse you and your selling out! Do you know how hard it is to license a bad guy!?
(Panel 3. Gamma Ray Gus strikes Hokey with his hammer, Wind Breaker.)
Gamma: Ah, shaddup! We bought these licensees fair and square. You want one, you’re going to have to pay like we did.
SFX: POW!
(Panel 4. Hokey, now about 2 feet tall and very wide, staggers off.)
Hokey: I’ll be back...
(Page 6, full panel page. We see Sore and Stiff lying in the tropical sun on lounge chairs. They are on a beach clad in smallish swimwear. Attendants are tending to them, as Stiff is getting a massage from a well-built man clad in a pair of swimtrunks, and Sore is being pampered by a buxom blonde woman in a bikini.)
Cap (N): And so...
Stiff: Ah, this doth be life... all our old enemies doth have to worry about our licensees... and we shall relax and make merry.
Sore: Indeed, Lady Stiff... forsooth, this doth be the life...