“I am Jena, villainous lackey with a heart of gold and possible love interest for the hero of the eponymous and godawful story STAR-KING, the backup feature from Amazing Wahoo. I only appeared in the last three panels of the story, and even then I was so strung out on cheap talcum-cut cocaine that I barely remember it at all.
“Except me get it up me monkey poop-chute hard in Crisis On Infinite Earths. Sugar and Spike get more air time. Me die off-panel and then never be made come back. Now me dance for quarters in comic-book limbo, and sometime me get drunk with Mandrill and Detective Chimp. Me sad monkey. Monkey very sad. Boo-hoo.”
A-Hem. “Bwa-hahahahahaha!” Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? I do … for I am the Shadow! No, seriously, I am … knock it off! Like a lot of characters, I made a comeback during the flood of Batman popularity in the mid-1960's. The costume was part of the package deal. Hey, stop laughing, Archie comics really treated me well.
What? What!? Archie is a perfectly respectable publication for super heroes to appear in. I mean, they have the Shield, the Jaguar … um … look, I'll be honest, by the time the 60's ran around, I really torn through my vast personal empire. I was lucky to get this gig. And at least I wasn't as bad off as these guys …
Go. Just read. Else I'll end up quoting the entire site.
His eyes grew wide. “Ooooooh, Krispy Kremes.” He rushed out the office door and came back a few minutes later. “These are the best donuts.” I nodded agreeement. Mom taught me never to talk with my mouth full. “They're even better fresh from the factory.”
“It's hard to believe they can get better than this,” I said.
We both slipped into blissful Krispy Kreme comas.
Rob when I got home. “What time does Compooosa open?”
“I think 10:00 am. I hate you.”
“You want to go, don't you?”
“Yea.” Sleep can wait.
Rob and I are at CompUSA when we come across a joystick and car wheel display.
Rob starts playing with it—suddenly we hear tires squealing and what sounds like a wounded elephant trampling a car. The steering wheel controller starts bucking wildly about.
“Cool!” said Rob.
I grab one of the joysticks and pull the trigger. Instantly a gun fires and the joystick kicks back.
“Cool!” I said.
I try the joystick next to it. Same reaction. I grab both and starting firing two fisted.
Rob starts poking buttons on the steering wheel.
Joysticks and wheels are bucking, guns are firing, tires screeching, elephants trumpeting and customers are staying as far away as possible.
We have entirely too much fun.
Rob is checking out the lap tops at CompUSA and I'm checking out this cute blond in the isle next to us. She's talking to one of the sales droids so it's hard to see her face, but the rear is nice; her end does justify the jeans, so to speak.
She then turns around. Oh my, I think. I think I know her!
She stares at me like she's going Oh my, I think I know him!
“Sean! Oh my god!” We hug each other; introductions are made—Rob this is Kaye, Kaye this is Rob, etc., etc. She finishes buying her new laptop and we all head out to the Chinese restaurant to catch up on the past few years since we both worked at Armigeron Information Services, Inc.
We were lucky that we caught her—she's moving to Orlando in a few days, which sucks (well, not for her, but for her friends down here).