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The Thirteen All-Time Coolest FLASHStories of the Silver Age (Part Two)
The Flash/Green Lantern team-up stories of the Silver Age -- revolving around the (dare I say it?) fast friendship between Hal [GREEN LANTERN] Jordan and Barry [FLASH] Allen -- were among the undisputed storytelling bright spots of the DC Comics Silver Age.
This is one of 'em. 
"Captives of the Cosmic Ray!" [FLASH #131; September, 1962; John Broome, author; Carmine Infantino, artist] opens up with a shot of the aforementioned Barry'n'Hal -- the latter of whom is on vacation, visiting the former in Coast City, California -- strolling about in their civilian I.D.s, ironing out the details of their upcoming mano a mano competition, sports-wise.
"Let's see if we can find those arrows for our archery contest," Barry suggests, upending the contents of an entire bag of bread crumbs over the congregated heads of some of the local pigeonry.
"We should be able to find them in that department store, across the street," seasoned shopper Hal concurs; nodding in the direction of the glaring, gargantuan neon sign braying the promise of:
ARROWS! ARROWS! ARROWS!
You Want Them? We Got Them!
arrows [n.] sharp pointed wooden or metal sticks
shot from a bow as weapons
and/or utilized in super-hero archery contests
GET 'EM WHILE THEY LAST!
"No one pays much attention to us," Hal observes, as the pair wander their way inside. "But I wonder what they would say if they knew that Green Lantern and the Flash had just entered the store together!"
"Speaking of our secret identities, Hal," Barry interjects, gesturing off-
panel; "LOOK -- !"
The reader's POV does a quick one-eighty; and we see...
Green Lantern. AND the Flash.
"Life-size figures of our two secret identities, here in this town,"
a startled Barry exclaims; thereby all but guaranteeing that said costumed identities
should remain suitably "secret" for all of another... oh, say... two, maybe
three full minutes. Tops.
The waxen simulacra, it seems, are there in order to promote passerby donations
to the "National Charities For Orphans" campaign; as well as serving as an all-important
"plot point," further along in the narrative. So you've all been
warned, then.
A panel or two later we're at the fabulous mansion estate of wealthy industrialist Carol Ferris -- pilot Hal Jordan's employer and Reg'lar Saturday Night Thang -- where the aforementioned Carol; Iris West (Barry's journalistic honey); and Hal's best friend, Thomas ("Pieface") Kalmuku, have all been anxiously awaiting their return.
"Pieface," Barry informs the cheerful young Aleutian; "... Hal and I are now ready to decide which of us is the sports champion of this weekend!"
"It's exactly even between them so far, isn't it, Thomas?" Carol inquires, as the two off-duty myrmidons make ready for their testosteroned tete-a-tete.
"Yes, Carol!" Thomas helpfully exposits. "Barry has beaten Hal in tennis and swimming; while Hal has beaten Barry in golf and billiards! [Pick One] -- "
A.) "This archery match will decide the winner!"
B.) "This archery match will decide the winner! Now that we've got all the rugged, manly sports competitions decently out of the way. Like... y'know... billiards. And hopscotch. And nude gerbil wrestling."
C.) "This archery match will decide the winner!" [turning; shouting off-panel] "Knock it off with all of that piteous screaming and blubbering in front of the targets, over there! You want the nice super-heroes should mess up with their shots, maybe? Stupid orphans!"
D.) "This archery match will decide theeeeeeeeAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEE!
MY EYE! OH JESUS OH GOD MY FREAKIN' EYEEEEEEEEEEEEE -- !"
Just as the two weekend warriors are preparing to "call" their respective shots, however ("... then it's settled, right? I take out Carol for you; you whack Iris for me; and then we double-team, and make a human pin cushion out of Thomas the Boy Witness, over there. PULL -- !"):
... the big, flat, orange flying saucer shows up from out of nowhere,
and does a metallic belly-flop on Carol's meticulously manicured lawn.
"Hal," a flushed and sweating Barry nervously inquires, wetting his lips in shaky anticipation of the Dear Penthouse Forum scenario unfolding inexorably around them; "... are you thinking what I am?"
"I sure am, Barry!" an eager Hal shoots back, pinning his chum on the message board of desire with the pushpin of his frank and level gaze. "And let's not waste any time!"
Okay. Fine. Whatever. Maybe I am projecting, then.
Still they are both getting undressed in the very next panel.
And grinning.
Look I read a whole lot of Camille Paglia, all right...?
Well... in any event the two well-muscled mystery men quickly shrug into their respective spandex leggings --
(Oh, yeah. This is a drop-dead "butch" scene, right here.)
-- and set out to investigate the whys and the wherefores of
this whole bothersome My-Folks-Went-To-Mutilate-Cattle-On-Earth-And-All-I-Got-
Was-This-Lousy-Tee-Shirt business.
"I'll need more will power, if I'm going to keep up with Flash's super
-speed!" Hal keenly intuits, as the powerhouse pair closes in on the wayward whatizzit.
Keeping Up With the Flashes, however, proves itself a tad tougher the trick than even the resolute Hal might otherwise have imagined, as his fellow JLAer and boon companion is snatched up by a mysterious yellow ray, and promptly vanishes; along with (natch) the scuttling saucer, itself.
Utilizing a portion of that fabled willpower of his, then Green Lantern hyper-hightails himself after both comrade and craft; with all three ending up, eventually, "across the void of space, and to an unknown planet!"
Pausing only long enough to lob a plainly perplexed Flash out the hatch and onto said planet's surface, the alien craft attempts to accelerate away from Hal, once more; but the grim-visaged guardian quickly puts a big, green stop to that, forcing the ship grownwards via the energies of his nigh-omnipotent Power Ring.
"I don't see any doors or hatches," Hal scowls, giving the alien dingus a quick once-over. "But, thanks to my ring, I don't need any entrance! I can make my own!"
"Grimly ready," the accompanying caption breathlessly enthuses; "... the aroused crusader [Insert Cheap and Tasteless Gag Here] confronts a surprising situation, a moment later."
"Huh -- ?" a goggle-eyed Green Lantern blurtts. "No one here! This ship is empty! It's run completely by machinery!"
"Somehow," the Shamrock Sherlock continues, musing; "... I feel I've been
led astray... into a trap!" (Now you all know why those inscrutible
alien Guardians of Oa tapped this fellah to ponce about the landscape
in his big, green GrrrAnimals 'jammies, huh...?)
"I'd better get out of here," a worried Hal concludes; "... hurry back and see how Flash is making out!"
None Too Blamed Well, as it turns out.
"I spied Green Lantern, and started to follow him," the crimson-clad crusader silently soliloquizes, whilst trudging through the numbing whiteness of a raging alien blizzard; "... when this blinding, whirling snowstorm sprang up around me! I... I've lost all sense of direction!"
Five seconds after that The Big, Abominable Snow-Thingie shows
up.
"Almost grabbed me!" a shivering (and nearly immobile) Flash despairs, reeling backwards. "The cold coming from it is overwhelming... numbing! I've got to warm up... or it will finish me!"
Our star-lost speedster, however, works his way through to the deadly problem's solution with typically admirable alacrity.
"Vibration!" the quick-witted police scientist observes. "By super-
speed, I can vibrate the atoms inside my body a million times a second! [...] Under the titanic gusts of wind I'm spinning at it, the creature is bursting apart... like snow blown from a tree at home!"
Before the Flash can allow himself the luxury of basking in the heady glow of victory, however the sub-arctic setting is abruptly replaced by a desolate desert one; and the Crimson Comet finds himself confronted by the gaunt, spectral form of a raygun-toting alien, stalking forward with remorseless purpose.
"Another alien being, threatening me!" the Flash stammers, incredulous. "But I... I can see right through him!"
"True," the extra-terrerstrial ectomorph agrees. "I am only a projected energy image, Flash! But that will not prevent me from destroying you!"
A single, searing discharge from the alien anti-social's hand weapon, then...
... and a startled speedster suddenly finds himself doing an involuntary handstand.
No. Seriously.
A freakin' handstand.
God bless and keep the Silver Age of Comics.
"That's just to tire you out," the alien assassin explains; "... and slow you down so you can't escape me!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE ... and, boyoboyoboy, but aren't you all glad they aren't packing this caliber weaponry earthside, when it comes to hunting out in the wild? I mean...
[... well, I mean...
[... oh, bloody hell, people; just imagine.
[We see SEVERAL HUNTERS, leveling handguns (much like that utilized by the Flash's alien opponent) towards a small, uncomfortable-seeming assortment of tiny, annoyed forest animals; bunnies, squirrels and -- most notably -- the principle characters of WaltDisney'sBAMBI.
[FIRST HUNTER (explaining) "That's just to tire you out, see... and slow you down so you can't escape us."
[THUMPER (bitterly) "My God, but this sucks."
[BAMBI (heated) "What about our last, fleeting moments of simple woodland dignity, you soulless bastards -- ?!?"
[SECOND HUNTER (clearly embarrassed) "Look... it's nothing... y'know... personal, all right...?"
[THUMPER (choking back the rage and shame) "Our fuzzy li'l sphincters are gonna go kerflooey when we kick off, you hairless finks! My hinder is situated directly over my freakin' head! Think about what THAT means, f'chrissakes -- !"
[FLOWER (weeping, openly) "... oh, Jesus... why, oh, why couldn't I have been born rabid...?"
[BAMBI (desperate) "... getting... dizzy... shouldn't have scarfed down all of that meadow grass for breakfast... gonna... gonna -- " [Begins to vomit, noisily; behind him, one of the smaller bunnies sets to sobbing, softly.]
[FIRST HUNTER (turning towards his companion; shame twisting his features) "I... I don't feel so good 'bout this no more, Herbie..."]
[I'm just sayin', here. That's all.]
"And now," the space hitman coolly observes, drawing a bead upon his upended opponent; "... for my final coup... this next shot will eliminate you forever as our enemy!"
Thinking quickly, however the Flash manages to disable his alien adversary
by "learning, at super-speed" how to walk; dodge; and attack while on
his hands. And may God forgive me for ever having written that
sentence.
Meanwhile Green Lantern, too, finds himself under sudden, deadly assault; in his case, a deadly gravitational "undertow" which plucks him from the alien skies, crushing him groundwards...
... and depositing him directly in the path of a great, whopping onrush of searing, molten metal.
Willing his Power Ring to render his gravity-crippled form naturally repellent to the surface of the planet, itself; a straining Hal Jordan just manages to remove himself from the magma's deadly, all-consuming path.
Finally reuniting, the puzzled pair hastily compare notes, re their experiences thus far.
"It's almost as if the planet itself is out to destroy us!" a pensive Flash muses, warily eyeing the surrounding environs with a newly-won respect.
"It's uncanny!" a scowling Green Lantern agrees. "We'd better get out of here... head back to Earth, right now, while we can! We can't keep battling a phantom enemy!"
... and it's at precisely this moment, of course, that said homcidal
habitat gives up even the slight, sorry pretense of subtlety; and promptly
goes for the proverbial broke.
"UHH!" a pained Green Lantern grunts. "Mountain peaks have become hands, reaching out to seize us... with terrible strength!"
"Fight, Green Lantern!" the Flash suggests; concerned, doubtless, that such a bold and innovative strategy might otherwise have never occurred to his fellow Leaguer. "Don't give up! We''ll find a way to get out of
this!"
While scarcely as formidable (arguably) as the fabled "World's Finest" team of Superman and the Batman; the Scarlet Speedster and the Emerald Gladiator, nonetheless, prove more than adequate to the task at hand. (i.e., pulverizing their stony, gargantuan opponent into so many Fruity Pebbles.)
"... and we may never solve the puzzle of why you were seized by that spaceship, Flash," a philosophical Green Lantern later exposits, whilst utilizing his Power Ring in order to haul their battered and exhausted spandexed hinders earthwards, once more. "Or the meaning of all the things that happened to us, back there!"
"True," a thoughtful Flash concurs. "There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason behind the attacks on us! But, right now [Pick One] -- ":
A.) "... it strikes me that we'd better hustle home again to our week-
end party... as Hal Jordan and Barry Allen, of course!"
B.) "... it strikes me that we'd better hustle home again to our week-
end party... as Anne Heche and Ellen DeGeneres!"
C.) "... let's just take a moment for grateful reflection that you're not a brain-dead and hyper-hormonal 'Gen X' slacker-type dude; and I'm not... like... dead, or nothin'."
D.) "... I think it's high time you finally leveled with me,
old friend." [leans closer; conspiratorially] "Those
'Guardians of Oa' guys. Those fruity li'l red skirts.
What's up with THAT, f'chrissakes...?"
Upon re-entering the Earth's atmosphere within the comfy confines of Green Lantern's protective, ring-generated "bubble," however...
... the paladin pair are startled by -- really and truly -- pretty much the stone last thing any reasonable man (or men) (or women) (or what-have-
you) might expect to find awaiting their return from a quick, violent involuntary sojourn into the far reaches of outer space.
That's right an eighteen-or-twenty-stories-high
metal statue of R.E.M. lead singer Michael Stipe.
"That gigantic robot," a thunderstruck Flash exclaims; "... standing on guard, there... as if it's keeping watch for some reason over the city!"
"And the people," an equally amazed Grren Lantern observes; "... their faces... grim, like prisoners!""
(From five miles straight UP, he can tell this, mind. Me,
on the other hand I'd be lucky to make out the huge, honkin' robotic
Colossus of Rhodes, there.)
The Heroes Two are contacted, quasi-telepathically, by the appointed leader of the aliens in question; a race of intergalactic butt-kickers designating themselves The Myrmitons.
"If you refuse to obey our commands," the big ghost-y head image informs them; "... we are prepared to destroy all human life on Earth, in a matter of seconds! [...] We Myrmitons are masters of all forms of cosmic radiation! And, in one of its forms, cosmic energy can be a death ray!"
[QUERY TO "PER'FESSER" QUENTIN LONG Betcha didn't know that 'bout cosmic radiation, didja? Huh? HUH? Mr. Big Deal Smarty Boots Scientific-Type Guy! Bet that's why you always clam up at cocktail parties, whenever the conversation shifts towards the subject of c-o-s-m-i-c r-a-d-i-a-t-i-o-n, huh? Just sit there in the corner; hunched over, nursing a Shirley Temple and hoping like hell nobody turns around and asks you "... sooooooo... how 'bout that ol' radiation, huh? Cosmic enough for ya...?"
[You and Immanuel Velikovsky, Per'fesser. Frauds!
Stinking, contemptible FRAUDS -- !]
"Even at this moment," the disembodied despot continues, displaying a plunger; "... if I pressed the gadget I am holding -- OR if anything happened to me -- a flood-tide of cosmic annihilation would engulf your entire planet! I advise you not to take the risk... you must surrender at once!"
Green Lantern and Flash are ordered to step directly into a mysterious yellow beam of light; with said unfathomable uberthingie having the ultimate effect of whisking the Emerald Guardian's Power Ring away, as well as " [...] completely removing from you any trace of your amazing super-speed, Flash!"
Hours later the two (now) not-so-super-heroes are shown ambling disconsolately
along the streets of a conquered and dispirited Coast City. Smug Myrmiton
warriors are shown prowling the streets in fancy stolen sports cars, scattering
innocent pedestrians like tenpins; jay-walking with brazen impunity; and making
loud, lewd observations, re the cast of television's Shining
Time Station. (Those filthy, degenerate alien bastards -- !)
Settling themselves, eventually, upon the same park bench they both occupied at the start of this issue's tale; the two heroes stare glumly at the department store where they'd once blithely gone shopping for a handful of arrows...
... whereupon the Flash sets to "speaking" conversationally with a wholly flabbergasted Green Lantern via means of mental telepathy!
Displaying the breathtaking quick-wittedness which was his John Broome-scripted trademark, back in the storytelling day the Flash, earlier, had effected a super-speed substitution of Green Lantern's Power Ring with the clever mock-up of same accompanying the emerald warrior's waxen replica, at the department store's charity booth. (See? See? Unca Cheeks bloody told you all that was going to prove an all-
important "plot point," way back at the very beginning of this ruptured
reccounting.)
Utilizing both speed and ring to further bamboozle the Myrmitons into believing he'd been deprived of his fabulous hyper-human speed, as well; the Flash had then played along with the aliens' anti-social scenario, biding his time (as well as the Lantern's) until the two of them were ready to strike back at their complacent conquerors.
This, the two heroes promptly do; with a gusto and bravura born of equal parts pent-up frustration and giddy exultion.
"... and now," a seething Green Lantern snarls, after the pair has placed a big ol' green-and-red hurtin' on the assembled forcces of the Myrmiton mooks; "... listen to the conditions which you Myrmitons must follow, if you wish to escape from Earth with your lives!"
"We... we accept your conditions, Green Lantern," the chastened leader of the Myrmitons meekly avers; "... whatever they are!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE ... which leads us -- horribly; inevitably -- straightaway into yet another gape-inducing installment of Why We're All Good and Bloody Glad Unca Cheeks Wasn't Old Enough To Be Writing Comic Books His Own Depraved and Degenerate Self, Back During the Silver Age. To wit -- :
[We see various members of THE JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA -- specifically, SUPERMAN; BATMAN; FLASH; GREEN LANTERN; WONDER WOMAN; and AQUAMAN -- scattered about the League's orbiting satellite headquarters; with sullen, leg-manacled Myrmiton aliens shambling dispirtedly amonst them.
[AQUAMAN (sitting astride a Myrmiton warrior; yanking exuberantly upon the reins fastened to the poor creature's muzzzle) "ON, Storm! ON, faithful steed! YEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAA -- !"
[BATMAN (readjusting his Utility Belt, and gesturing with a thumb back towards a huddled and sobbing Myrmiton; the latter of whom is clad in torn and bloodstained tights) "Well... I'm done for today, by golly. Anybody else want a turn with 'Catwoman,' over there...?"
[SUPERMAN (shaking his head) "No thanks, pal. Wonder Woman and I are having our own kinda fun, right over here." [Turning back to face the Amazon Princess, once more] "PULL -- !"
[WONDER WOMAN grasps another Myrmiton by crotch and collar; flings the desperately shrieking creature skywards. There is a sudden flash of lethal, super-heated energies issuing from the Kryptonian's alien peepers... and the room is sprayed with charred, smouldering and stinking bits of fricasseed Myrmiton flesh and bone.
[SUPERMAN (rolling about upon the floor, clutching his sides] "MWAH-ha-ha-haaaaa -- !"
[FLASH (to GREEN LANTERN; winking) "More fun than
Martians, even, aren't they...?"]
Therapy. Unca Cheeks needs lots and LOTS of therapy.
Well... in any event the story ends with Barry and Hal back -- safe and sound -- at the Ferris Estate; each one attempting to "throw" the remaining contest in their yearly "sports competition," in favor of the other.
"Can't call either of us the winner, Hal," a grinning Barry observes. "I guess our sports contest has ended in a tie!"
"Suits me, Barry!" an equally jovial Hal agrees.
"I don't get it," a suspicious Carol Ferris muses. "It's as if they suddenly became so friendly towards each other, that each was trying to let the other win!"
Later on that same evening, these two heroes would likewise extend this very same spirit of matchless generosity towards one another, yet again...
... but that's Carol's own nightmare to be recounted, someday. And Iris'.
And Thomas', too, now that I think of it.
"MORE COMIC BOOKS," YOU SAY...?
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