Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!

CONTESTANT #5: GIANT TURTLE OLSEN

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: This site entry comes to us courtesy of our extra-extra-special guest reviewers. this week: the fighting super- femme known as Fly Girl; moody and mysterious see-through sentinel, Bob Phantom; evil and rotund recidivist, The Spider; and that notoriously p-whipped paladin, The Web -- four of LAST week's contestants in The Great Four-Color Feeb-Off.]

[SCENE OPENS on a shot of four swivel chairs on a raised Washington Week In Review-style sound stage; a low, circular table equidistant between them all, with a pitcher of water and two glasses resting atop.

[The Web BOUNDS CHEERFULLY in from Stage Left, to thunderous studio audience APPLAUSE; he waves, clearly basking in the amassed adulation as he struts towards his assigned seat.

[Fly Girl SAUNTERS IN from Stage Right, a moment later; her arrival marked by a shrill swelling of WOLF WHISTLES and lusty, full-throated "hubba-hubba"s. She smiles, sweetly and coquettishly, and glides gracefully towards her own appointed perch.

[The Spider STUMPS IN from Stage Left, on two meaty, cylindrical objects which can only be regarded as legs, given the positions they occupy directly below his elelphantine hinder. There are CHEERS commingled with GOOD-NATURED JEERS and CATCALLS, which the long-time criminal mastermind acknowledges, in turn, with a cool, Orson Welles-like smile.

[Finally, a dejected-looking Bob Phantom SLUMPS IN, from behind the backdrop at Center Stage. The audience's reaction to this third and final entry is completely and totally non-existent; just the sound of crickets chirping, waaaaaayyyy in the background. Bob smirks, disgustedly; he seems anything but surprised by all of this, in all naked honesty.]

WEB (settling into his seat, and beaming hugely at the audience): "Hey there, hi there, ho there, comics fans! Welcome to yet another fast-paced and fun-packed edition of Unca Cheeks' Four-Color Feeb-Off : the show where YOU -- the readers -- get to point and laugh at the silly side of mainstream super-herodom!" [Avuncular, good-natured chuckle, here] "... and, boy howdy! Are we all in for one whale of a good time tonight -- eh, Fly Girl...?"

FLY GIRL (smiling winningly, and nodding in ready agreement): "That's right, Web! And, what's more: this will be the very first edition of the Feeb-Off to be presented without the sadly-standard-up-until-now accompaniment of gutter jokes; inane innuendo; and seamy, seedy psycho-sexual tauntings which have -- regrettably -- characterized the series, up until now!

SPIDER (leaning back in his seat -- which creaks alarmingly, in response -- and folding his hands over the Ebbetts Field-like expanse of his belly): "... not that such a deplorable lack of proper decorum should come as any profound or particular startlement, certainly. This site's peculiar proprietor and protagonist is rather... ummmmm... notorious as a nattering nabob of nastiness."

[There is an elasticized and pregnant silence, as Fly Girl and THE WEB exchange brief, puzzled looks. Slouched dispiritedly in his seat, Bob Phantom snorts derisively.]

BOB (snidely): "What GargantuoGut's simpering, here, is: 'Unca Cheeks' is a freakin' perv. You quasi-literate Regis and Kathy Lee wannabes."

[None of the others assembled on stage react in any way whatsoever to Bob Phantom's acidic aside; nor do any of the onlooking audience members, for all of that. Neither of these (non-)occurrences seem terribly outre or unusual to Bob, who rolls his eyes, resignedly.]

FLY GIRL (moving right along; tilll affecting a plastic mannequin- ish smile): "... yes... well. In any event: tonight's special 'guest-star' panel has been specially selected for decency and wholesomeness. NO lewd, lascivious closet lesbianism -- "

WEB (picking up where she leaves off): "... NO cross-dressing; bestiality; necrophilia; or pederasty -- "

SPIDER (concluding, stertorously): "... and nary so much as a whiff of any of the more squalid or disreputable recreational retrogressions by which this site's horny host seems so inexplicably intrigued, overall."

FLY GIRL (heatedly; wagging her finger): "He's a bad, bad man, that filthy-minded 'Unca Cheeks'!"

WEB (nodding, emphatically): "You said it, Little Missy! He's a rotten egg, and no mistake!"

BOB (pained, mildly revulsed look pinching his features): "Okay. Quick question, here: how many hopelessly repressed spandexed types sitting up here have actually had any form of sexual encounter whatsoever NOT involving Mary Palm and Her Five Dutiful Daughters, at any time at all during the last... oh, say... two or three years? Hands up."

[Again: no visible reaction whatsoever; either from the audience or the panel. A bemused Bob gestures, wordlessly, as if to say: "Yup. Yup. Pretty much what I expected, actually."]

SPIDER (blandly; gesturing towards the screen with a languid, well-
manicured hand): "If I might make so bold as to venture the suggestion: perhaps we ought to set our leaky, storytelling skiff decently asail, e'er the greater portion of our audience finds itself fatally fastened in the thin, pale arms of Morpheus...?"

WEB (chirpily): "No time for that right now, big fellah! It's time for us to get to this week's featured Feeb-Off entry! Right, Fly Girl -- ?"

FLY GIRL (every last bit as disgustingly chipper as her blonde co-
host): "Righty-right, Webbed Wonder!"

SPIDER (so silkily condescending, it sails right over both their heads): "Mmm. Yes... well: as you like, then. Carry on."

BOB (turning towards the audience, and addressing them directly): "Can anybody out there see me? Hear me? Even the teensiest, tiniest little bit? Hel-LOOOOOOOO, people -- !" [Waves his arms over his head, half-heartedly; clearly, he doesn't really expect any sort of response, by this point.]

FLY GIRL (excitedly; also to the audience): "The Giant Turtle Man!" made its delightful -- if dopey -- debut in the pages in JIMMY OLSEN #53; June, 1961; Jerry Siegel, author, and Curt Swan, penciler!"

WEB (continuing): "Our story opens with Clark [SUPERMAN] Kent, Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen enjoying 'a ten-day vacation trip to the West Indies' "; with the freckle-faced junior member of said merry trio electing to entertain himself by engaging in a little impromptu beachcombing!"

SPIDER (disinterestedly; eyes lidded at half-mast): "At length, Young Master Olsen chances across a half-buried chest of sorts, recently borne ashore by the vagaries of sea and foam."

BOB (nastily): "No bow-tie, granted... but: he's still tripping and traipsing about the sandy shoreline in slacks. AND a white collared SHIRT. Little puss."

FLY GIRL (trying, gamely, for a teenaged boy's voice; and not even coming close): " 'It has no markings on it!" the cub reporter keenly observes. "I wonder what's inside...?' "

WEB (picking up the thread): "Eagerly unlatching the bolts fastening its lid, Jimmy is clearly startled to discover a complex, futuristic-

seeming ray gun of sorts!"

FLY GIRL (back at it): " 'How do you like that?,' Jimmy marvels, goggling wide-eyed at the alien artifact before him. 'It's a weird ray-type machine, with all sorts of switches and dials! Maybe I can get it to work! Let's see now...' "

BOB (continuing; unnoticed): "I mean, seriously. I've seen more openly bohemian ensembles during 'Casual Day' at The Wall Street Journal, f'chrissakes. The little no-neck looks like a waiter at Sardi's, all right? That's all I'm sayin'."

SPIDER (obviously couldn't care less if he tried): "A fateful, random twisting of a dial... and: the adolescent adventurer finds himself staring, stupefied, at the sight of a suddenly gargantuized gastropod."

WEB (peering at the screen intently; shakes his head, slowly): "Hate to disagree with you, old buddy... but: it looks more like a garden variety snail, from way over here."

SPIDER (nostrils flaring in momentary annoyance): "Hrrrmm. well: I yield to your superior vantage point, then, certainly. 'Old buddy.' "

BOB (leaning closer to the torqued-seeming Spider; whispering urgently into one cauliflower ear): "No living blood relatives. I checked, just before the show. You'd be doing the gene pool a favor, ultimately. Look, just think about it, all right...?"

FLY GIRL (a la Jimmy): " 'Omigosh!' the flabbergasted photog stammers, inwardly. 'T-The ray enlarged the snail till it became as big as a house!' "

WEB (leans in towards the Spider, grinning; elbows him in the ribs, playfully): "See? See? I knew it had to be a snail, by golly!" [Chortles, pleasantly] "... and they call you a super-genius, boy! Bet you're feelin' pretty darned sorry you jumped the gun on that call, huh...?"

SPIDER (staring at the Web with ill-concealed malevolence): " 'The gun.' 'Sorry.' Oh, yes, indeed, sir."

FLY GIRL (continuing): " 'This gadget is obviously some kind of enlarging ray!' Jimmy intuits, plausibly; stray sea creatures being enlarged left, right and center, as the pinkish ray plays over them with a cheery, clueless abandon. 'I'll see what it does to that sponge at the water's edge -- !' "

SPIDER (matter-of-factly): "One could easily envision a scenario in which an especially enterprising extra-legal entrepreneur might parlay said ponderous Porifera in such a manner as to garner gargantuan amounts of ill-gotten gain."

[Blank, uncomprehending looks again, between Fly Girl and the Web. Even Bob Phantom seems momentarily nonplussed by that last one. Not that anyone else notices, of course.]

SPIDER (exhaling with exaggerated exasperation): "In the vernacular, then: 'dude could cop hisself some real coin wit' dat dere monster mo'fo.' "

WEB (shocked; remonstrative): "... but that would be wrong, of course!"

SPIDER (distracted; a far-away glint in his eyes): "Wrong. Yes. Of course. It would be... wrong... "

WEB (continuing; oblivious): "Just at that precise moment, however: an unsuspecting Lois Lane wanders, heedlessly, onto the scene."

FLY GIRL ("Jimmy"): " 'Good heavens, Lois!' the Silver Age Kid Disaster exclaims. 'Get back! If this ray struck you, you'd become as tall as a skyscraper!' "

BOB (inserting the observation, unheard): "... and then we'd all end up staring fixedly up your skirt, whenever you strode over us. And this would be a bad thing because...?"

FLY GIRL (continuing): " 'I don't know where it comes from, or who invented it' the cub schlub conludes, returning the gizmo to its custom carrying case; '... but I'm taking it back to the ship to study it, after I take a picture of that sponge! There's a terrific story in this, Lois!' "

SPIDER (snorting; sotto voce): "An observation not readily borne out by the graphic narrative afforded us, thus far."

WEB (seriously; shaking his head): "Have to disagree with you once again, Web, ol' sock, ol' shoe. I'd say this here story is a real four-color stinkeroonieburger, m'self."

[The Spider gazes wordlessly at The Web; his expression frozen and cavernous. Bob Phantom takes the opportunity to lean in closer to him once again.]

BOB (harsh, urgent whisper): "He's a freakin' self-appointed super-hero, f'chrissakes! You just know he's got that bloody 'organ donor' space checked off, on the back of his driver's license! You could be saving some dewey-eyed little grade school kid's life, ultimately! Think. About. It."

WEB (continuing; falsetto "female" voice): " 'Jimmy! Listen to this!' an excited Lois later squeals, once the cruise ship is several hours out from shore, once more. 'The captain handed me a radio message from the island we just visited!' "

BOB (conversationally, to the oblivious studio audience): "Notice what an enthusiastic job he does, taking on the chick's role, here."

WEB (continuing): " 'It's from Clark! Seems he went looking for us on the island, and was left on shore! He'll take the next boat back to Metropolis!' "

BOB (staring openly at The Web; one eyebrow cocked): "Maybe too 'enthusiastic' a job, all things being equal."

FLY GIRL ("Jimmy"): " 'Too bad!' the callous cub reporter shrugs, little fazed by the prospect of his valued friend and co-worker being stranded an unguessable distance away from human civilization; on the same island as a ravenouus, thousand-foot sponge. "I wanted to show him how this ray machine works!"

SPIDER (lugubriously; eyes half-lidded once more): "Young Master Olsen's bland lack of concern is occasioned, in this particular, by the certainty of his callow cogitations, re: the 'secret' of Clark Kent's parallel personna."

WEB (frowning; puzzled): "Huh? Whuzzat, Spider?" "That lace doiley skull cap of yours wedged on too tight, old hoss?" [Chortles, disbelievingly] "C'mon... get real, all right? How the holy freakin' heck could a certified, Grade-"A," USDA-inspected and -approved chicken wing like JIMMY OLSEN ever have doped out The Secret Behind Clark Kent's Glasses, f'cryin' out loud...?"

SPIDER (waving a languid hand of dismissal): "Pfah. Even the most credulous or cretinous of intellects could cozen the answer from this cut-rate conundrum, surely."

WEB (not buying a word of it): "Oh, yeah? Well... I sure as shootin' don't savvy it, kemo sabe."

SPIDER (silkily): "All but one, then. I stand corrected" [Ticking off the points on his fingers, one by one] "Observe, please. One: keenly intuitive professional journalist Lois Lane has long suspected 'Clark Kent' of harboring a super-heroic 'secret identity'; a fact of which Young Master Olsen, naturally, is well aware."

"Two: Herr Olsen is, manifestly, of the opinion that 'Clark Kent' faces no perceptible peril whatsoever, in the course his desert isle durance vile.

"Three: said watery waystation is hundreds -- indeed; thousands, mayhap -- of miles removed from taint or tinctture of human civilization; and -- in the absence of any mechanical form of conveyance -- would require super-human abilities to absent and away."

"Four: therefore, it -- "

WEB (sitting bolt upright in his seat, in sudden realization; waving his hand back and forth, like a grade school kid desperately seeking teacher's attention): "Oooooh! Oooooh! I know! Me! ME!"

SPIDER (nodding, benignly): "Ah. Dame Awareness beckons, at long last. Very well, sir: supply us with the final piece of the jigsaw, then, if you please. James Bartholomew Olsen knows that 'Clark Kent' is -- in plain point of fact -- the costumed adventurer known as -- "

WEB (beaming in brain-dead triumph): "... AQUAMAN!"

[There is a long and terrible silence, then; with the Spider simply staring at the goofily-grinning Web in mute, commingled horror and wonderment. Fly Girl's mouth drops open, prettily. Unnoticed by all, Bob smacks palm to forehead, disbelievingly.]

BOB (sotto voce): "... oy gevalt..."

[... and then -- at precisely that exact moment -- the lights go out; and the stage is plunged into pitch, impenetrable blackness.

[There are the sounds of a brief, fierce struggle; a horrid, wet gurgling noise; the sound of something slumping heavily to the floor of the stage, like a sack of wet potatoes --

[... and then the lights come back up --

[... AND: Bob, The Spider and Fly Girl all find themselves goggling -- wide-eyed and slack-jawed -- at the bloodied and crumpled form of the Web: several dozen long-handled knives jutting out from various places in his back, chest and throat.

[He is not (as they say) merely dead; he's really most sincerely dead.

[Stifling a small, girlish scream, Fly Girl is the first to bolt from her seat and hunker at the fallen hero's side. Tracing a gloved and trembling finger along the curved handle of one of the many knives, the veteran super-heroine swallows hard, and then manages to husk out the words:]

FLY GIRL (hushed; horrified): "... oh, dear god... I think he's been shot..."

[In wordless unison, the gazes of both Bob Phantom and Fly Girl swivel towards the still-seated Spider; the latter whose eyes have acctually widened in something appreciably akin to genuine startlement.]

SPIDER (peevishly): "Well? Why are you staring at me, you ridiculous little woman? You can't possibly believe that I had anything whatsoever to do with -- "

FLY GIRL (pointedly): "Well, for God's sake, Spider! You do happen to be the only card-carrying super-VILLAIN loitering in the immediate vicinity, right about now! I just -- "

SPIDER (sulkily; pouting): "Oh, yes. By all means, let's all keep on holding that over my head, why don't we...?"

BOB (holding up both hands, palms outward): "Well, hey! Don't look at me!" [turning towards the audience] "Little joke, there. You all know what this site's author is like. Morey Amsterdam of the online funnybook set, that guy."

FLY GIRL (to Spider; continuing): "... so, what you're saying, is: the lights just happened to wink out, while you just happened to be glaring murderously at the poor Web, here -- " [gestures towards her still and fallen friend; repressing a small shudder] " -- and he just happened to end up looking like something on a luncheon sushi platter; and now you're just as weepy and broken up over it as everyone else, as a result Is that pretty much it, then...?"

SPIDER (allowing himself the luxury of a small, hard smile): "You have me much misinterpreted, mademoiselle. I lament the lifelessness of that lime-and-yellow lout little more than I would -- oh, say -- the passing of some errant, post-prandial gas."

BOB (nodding his head, emphatically and unseen): "... and, as the poor, luckless bastard sitting closest to Mr. Slow Leak, here: I can vouch for that last one, my own self." [fans at the air frantically, with one hand] "I mean, it's like a burning tire factory back here, all right...?"

SPIDER (spreads his hands, slowly; concluding): "I simply disavow any foreknowledge of -- or responsibility for -- the happy accident, itself."

FLY GIRL (heatedly): "You filthy, stinking BAS -- "

SPIDER (the slightest hint of an edge creeping into his voice, now): "Madame: have you or have you NOT concrete or verifiable evidence linking moi -- or ANYone, really -- to the demise under discussion...?"

FLY GIRL (gritting out the answer): "... nnnnnnnnnooooooo... but -- "

SPIDER (his voice bulldozing over hers): "... then, my insectile ingenue: I respectfully submit that the most rational course of action, at this juncture, might well be to simply carry on with our assigned auto-

auctorial assessment, vis-a-vis the aforementioned Young Master Olsen."

[Unnoticed, still, by the others on stage; a pensive Bob Phantom surreptitiously thumbs the center of his costume's belt buckle; depressing it slightly.]

SPIDER (smoothly picking up the narrative thread once more): "A chance encounter with a nearby electro-magnet activates the addled adolescent's hyper-sonic wristwatch alarum; engaging the attentions of a space-situated Superman, in turn."

[Fly Girl is still staring wide-eyed at the blandly reciting recidivist, openly incredulous. Meeting her wordless gaze with a frank and level one of his own, The Spider gestures languidly for her to take her seat.

[She does so; and -- haltingly, at first -- resumes her co-narrative duties.]

FLY GIRL (eyeing her corpulent co-host warily): " 'Uh-oh,' a plainly exasperated Man of Steel soliloquizes, inwardly. 'That's Jimmy summoning me! I hope it's something important, because I deliberately stayed behind on that island so that I could safely switch to Superman, and spend a few days in outer space, on a vital mission!' "

BOB (smirking, unnoticed): "... although not so 'vital,' evidently, that he couldn't spare the time necessary to lollygag his big blue hinder aboard a friggin' cruise ship for three or four slow, restful days, beforehand."

SPIDER: "Upon hyper-rapid return to their seagoing situ, however -- the altruistic uberalien harshly hectors his semi-adult sidekick, re: the latter's customary and inbred impulsiveness."

FLY GIRL: " '... Lois just told me about that enlarging ray you found!', Superman scolds. 'Better get rid of it! You may get into some GIANT-sized trouble, if you're not careful with that ray!' "

SPIDER (readjusting his elephantine bulk in his seat, and continuing): "Exacting a solemn oath from the aggressively agreeable adolescent that all due paranoia will be painstakingly applied, in this latest particular: the Metropolis Myrmidon soars skywards once more, trusting -- foolishly, of a certainty -- in the tow-headed teen's essential trustworthiness, overall."

FLY GIRL ("doing" Lois, now): " 'Look at these souvenirs I bought, Jimmy!' the plucky newsgal breathlessly enthuses, eagerly displaying same. 'Especially this little pet turtle!' "

BOB (chuckling; amused): "That's one wild, whacked-out gift shop they've got on that there converted garbage scow, boy. Teensy-tiny baby reptiles. Nothing says: "Having A Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here" like a terriffied, tragically uprooted specimen from the local ecosystem, by golly."

FLY GIRL ("Jimmy"): " 'Omigosh!' a much-dismayed Jimmy wails, as the tiny terrapin skedaddles madly across the table top. 'Lois! M-My hand slipped, and I pushed the switch on the enlarging ray! I-It's passing through the turtle, and hitting me!' "

SPIDER (snorting, derisively): "Lack of proper laboratory procedure. Sadly inadequate safeguards. And yet the cretinous, sheep-like Luddite lowbrows of the world term me the 'mad scientist.' Pfui."

VOICE (from OFF-STAGE): "That's because you are a mad scientist, Bubblebutt!"

SPIDER (eyes widening in outrage; facial features mottling): "Eh? Thunder and damnation! Who DARES -- ?!?"

[SWOOPING IN from Stage Left, by way of rapid response, comes the bizarrely over-muscled, cleft-chinned and toussle-haired form of Steel Sterling: meta-human mesomorph, and Good Guy Deluxe.]

FLY GIRL (sqealing, delighted): "STEEL -- !"

BOB (glancing downward at his belt buckle, and grinning): "Well... nice to know that the ol' Mighty Crusaders Emergency Belt Buckle Signal Device still works, at any rate..."

[Landing with a resounding, splay-legged THUMP! at Center Stage, Steel Sterling immediately strikes a mega-heroic, hands-on-hips pose; smiling toothily for the wildly appreciative studio audience. In the background -- inexplicably -- are the choraled voices of Elvis Presley's old back-up singers, the Jordanaires; snapping their way through what can only be -- in horrific, pain-wracked retrospect -- the STEEL STERLING Theme Song.]

JORDANAIRES: "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Muscles bigger than his brain!

Come to save the world again!"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Winner of the human race!

Can punch through mountains with his face!"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Does what no other mortal man can!

Never known the touch of a woman!

Don't look now, but

Holy cow, it's

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

SteeeeeeEEEEEEEEL STERLING -- !"

SPIDER (muttering, disgustedly): "Dear God, but that's one hopelessly and relentlessly ANNOYING super-power."

STEEL (whose speaking voice is -- what else? -- a booming and confident basso): "... and I didn't come here alone, either, people! Yet another of the fantastic, funtastic fightin' fellers of the MIGHTY CRUSADERS Age O' Comics is waiting just off-stage, as well!"

FLY GIRL (excitedly; all but bouncing up and down in her seat): "Another one of our wonderful old four-color compatriots? Really? Who is it, Ste -- ?"

SPIDER (desperately; eyes fairly bulging in naked horror): "No! NO, you impossibly stupid woman! Don't say the name! DON'T SAY THE BLOODY NAME -- !"

JORDANAIRES (starting up again, the very nano-second Fly Girl starts to say "Steel Sterling"):

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Picture perfect future man!

He's his own true greatest fan!"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Strongest fellah, East or West!

Can't even spell I-R-S!

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Truth and justice are his joys!

That, and shaving little boys!

Drop your jocks and

Grab your socks, it's

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

SteeeeeeEEEEEEEEL STERLING -- !"

SPIDER (burying his face in hands; voice muffled): "I turned to mass murder and world domination for a reason, you know..."

STEEL (turning to face OFF-STAGE, Stage Left, and calling out, jovially): "Come on out here, you big, bashful goombah, you!"

VOICE (from OFF-STAGE; morosely): "No. Not unless you promise."

STEEL (chuckling, benignly): "Ah, come on, buddy! Ernie and the other Jordanaires worked so hard on it for you, for gosh sakes! I think it's a swell theme song!"

VOICE (from OFF-STAGE; morosely): "You would."

BOB (sitting up straighter in his seat; eyes widening in shock): "OmiGAWD! I know that Eeyore-On-Seconals voice! It's -- "

[Trudging in dejectedly from Stage Left is a gloomy, pasty-hued individual in bright blue spandex. OFF-STAGE, the Jordanaires hummmmm preparatorily, and then swing enthusiastically into their new number.]

JORDANAIRES: "MIIIIIIISSSSSSSSter JUStice!

MIIIIIIISSSSSSSSter JUStice!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee's DEAD!"

[Wincing in unimaginable embarrassment, the avenging wraith known as Mr. Justice slumps dejectedly into the seat previously occupied by the late Web. Chin resting on chest, he glares at Steel reprovingly.]

JUSTICE (embittered): "Ernie and the other Jordanaires should go back to touring with Elvis."

SPIDER (blandly): "Elvis Aaron Presley has been numbered amongst the spectral ranks for a quarter-century, now, Mister Justice."

JUSTICE (drily): "Your point being -- ?"

STEEL (moving easily into another stock "muscle" pose; this one, a classic Hero-Of-The-Beach number): "Came a-runnin' just as soon as we received the Emergency Crusaders Belt Buckle hyper-sonic heads up, beautiful." [Fly Girl frowns, puzzled; stares perplexedly at her own costume's belt, while Steel continues, oblivious.] "Sooooooo... what's the big deal emergency hereabouts, anyway? And wasn't our team's resident hen-pecked hero guy, the Web, s'posed to be taking part in this little comics clambake, incidentally...?"

[Choking back an emotional sob, Fly Girl gestures wordlessly towards the still, sprawled form of the fallen Web; in plain sight, right smack-dab at Center Stage.]

[Frowning, Steel Sterling kneels down and peers musingly at the costumed corpse; silently taking in the multiple knife wounds (complete with multiple knives).]

STEEL (rising to his feet, once more; authoratatively): "Migod. Strangled. Ugly, ugly way to go. Brrrrrrrrrr." [Shudders, sympathetically.]

FLY GIRL (smiling up worshipfully at Steel, through her fresh veil of tears): "Thank God you're here to get to the bottom of this awful business, Ste -- "

SPIDER (shrieking; panicked): "You stupid bloody SOW -- !"

JORDANAIRES (starting up again, the very nano-second Fly Girl starts to say "Steel Sterling"):

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Rescues folks from this and that!

Slightly smarter than your cat!

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Fighting monsters? Hey! No sweat!

Latent and repressed? You BET!

"Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

Has a name that fairly sings!

Wears lacy women's underthings!

So flip your lids

And hide your kids, it's

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeel STERLING!

SteeeeeeEEEEEEEEL STERLING -- !"

JUSTICE (pained grimace): "Just try picking up loose women at a bar sometime, with that sort of crap going on every five minutes or so. Just TRY, dammit."

STEEL (chiding): "You know what your problem is in that area, Justice, ol' buddy? You're too darned picky when it comes to the ladies."

JUSTICE (sarcastically): "Yeah. I prefer my women WITHOUT Adam's apples."

SPIDER (heavily): "As endlessly fascinating as St -- " [catches self, just in the very nick] " -- as You-Know-Who's private peccadilloes might very well be, given a sufficient plethora of pre-frontal lobotomies, all around: perhaps it would profit us all still more, ultimately, to proceed with the pre-arranged pictorial narrative...?"

BOB (shooting a hateful glance Spider's way, unnoticed): "Oh, certainly. By all means, let's not waste another precious nano-second fretting foolishly over the wholesale slaughter of a few stray super- heroes, here and there."

STEEL (plopping himself down on the prone from of the Web as if it were a footstool, and patting Fly Girl's knee in a kindly, avuncular fashion): "Don't you worry, Little Missy! I'm here, now... and, when you factor in the additional presence of my heavenly homey, Mr. Justice -- "

JORDANAIRES (swinging enthusiastically into their other number, OFF-STAGE):

"MIIIIIIISSSSSSSSter JUStice!

MIIIIIIISSSSSSSSter JUStice!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee's DEAD!"

JUSTICE (sliding lower into his seat; a fat, single tear trickling down one ashen cheek): "Does Quentin Long ever humiliate old comic book characters this way? Nope. Does Nicolas Juzda ever humiliate old comic book characters this way? Uh-uh. Does William Brackeen ever humiliate old comic book characters this way? Not on a freakin' bet -- !"

STEEL (continuing, oblivious): " -- why: you're all as safe as horses, from this moment on!" [Flashes a toothy, heroic smile, in affirmation.]

SPIDER (spluttering; red-faced): "Houses, you towering and mesomorphic mongoloid. HOUSES. The cliche for which you are artlessly scrabbling and clutching is: 'Safe. As. Bloody. HOUSES.' "

STEEL (nudging Fly Girl in the ribs, and winking): "See? That's why they're always called 'mad scientists.' Because they're always MAD about something, by golly!" [Chuckles again; eliciting yet another silent, murderous glare from the varicose villain, in turn.]

FLY GIRL (launching into the story, once more): " 'Good gracious, Jimmy!' a flabbergasted Lois exclaims, as the alien ray does its incomprehensible alien thing. 'The turtle's becoming giant-sized! And so are you! *GASP!* You've burst your clothing and signal watch into pieces!' "

BOB (sincerely; unheard): "Thank Christ for the men and women of the Comics Code Authority! Big... green... FLOPPY..." [shudders, uncontrollably]

FLY GIRL (continuing): " 'I-I've turned it off, Jimmy!' Lois informs the transmogrified teen, helpfully. 'But... but it's too late! The turtle is as big as an elephant! And you... *GASP*!... oh, Jimmy,' she scolds; "... you're still growing!' "

STEEL (taking over the "Jimmy" role): " 'I can't even talk like a human being anymore!' the Teen Terrapin laments, inwardly. 'I can only make sounds like a turtle!' "

FLY GIRL (giggling): "Now, that's just silly, really! '... sounds like a turtle?' What sort of sounds do turtles ever make, for goodness sakes?"

BOB (shrill, panicked "Tutor Turtle" voice): "OOOOOOOOooooh, Mister Wizzzzzarrrrrd! I don't wanna be an intrepid cub reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper any moooooorrrrrrrrrrrre! Missssster WIZZZZAAARRRRRRD -- !"

[... and then -- at precisely that exact moment -- the lights go out AGAIN; and the stage is plunged into pitch, impenetrable blackness, once more.

[There are the sounds of yet another brief, fierce struggle; a horrid, wet gurgling noise; the sound of something slumping heavily to the floor of the stage, like a second sack of wet potatoes --

[... and then the lights come back up --

[... AND: Bob, The Spider, Sterling and Mister Justice all find themselves goggling -- wide-eyed and slack-jawed -- at the crumpled and unmoving formm of Fly Girl: several dozen different lengths of rough, hempen cord dangling from her slender throat; her facial features mottled and anguished, in slain extremis.

[For a long and soundless moment, the four comics characters all goggle, wordlessly, at the grotesque tableau before them; with an ashen Bob, finally, shattering the silence with a hoarse, husked]:

BOB (whimpering): "I... I... " [swallows hard] "... I see dead people..."

JUSTICE (similarly stunned and appalled): "... oh, God... so do I ...!"

[Beat. Another beat...

[... and then the two heroes are both stricken with the sudden realization, simultaneously, that Mister Justice actually heard Bob, just then.

[In eerie, unconscious synchronization: each swivels his head, slowly, to face the other one, and simply... stare at one another, as the full and awful import of what both just said well and truly sinks in.]

BOB and JUSTICE (in unplanned unison): "UH-oh..."

That's right, people: it's our first-ever TWO-PART entry in THE FIRST ANNUAL UNCA CHEEKS FOUR-COLOR FEEB-OFF! Hoody-hoo!

To Be Continued, then. (Obviously.)

The First Annual UNCA CHEEKS FOUR-COLOR FEEB-OFF (PAGE ONE)

The First Annual UNCA CHEEKS FOUR-COLOR FEEB-OFF (PAGE TWO)

The First Annual UNCA CHEEKS FOUR-COLOR FEEB-OFF (PAGE THREE)

The First Annual UNCA CHEEKS FOUR-COLOR FEEB-OFF (PAGE FOUR)

"MORE COMIC BOOKS," YOU SAY...?

The DC Comics Sub-Directory
The Marvel Comics Sub-Directory
The Miscellaneous Comics Sub-Directory
The "Gotta Find That DC Character" Menu
The "Gotta Find That Marvel/Miscellaneous Character" Menu

Home Page

LEGAL SHAMANISMS