( I should probably take a moment to explain that he'd gotten the notion I was a cocaine addict.) At this point I had two options:
- Prank him by having him go to a false address with nobody there.
- Prank him by having him go to a false address with me there in disguise and we'd have punch-throwing, kick-boxing, bombastic super-soldier-serum-powered sex (therefore living out a secret fantasy of thousands of Marvel fanboys).
Naturally I chose the latter. I mean, I can't stand the guy on a personal level but hey! It's Captain Freakin' America!
So I gave him the address of a cheap hotel, the kind where they keep old dressers in the hallways and where everything on the room service trays is composed of jade. Now if you'll recall, the only other time Cap saw me I was in my sweet-ass goatee-and-muttonchops phase, plus it was dyed bright red. Right now I've got my killer biker 'stache (in my naturally handsome chestnut brown) and my psychodelic goggles, so those would help me look the part of an anarchist hippie. Still, it wouldn't be enough. So I dug into my "quick-disguise kit" (which I carry on my person at all times) for something else that would support my flimsy ruse. I donned a long blonde wig and some love beads, unbuttoned my paisley shirt another couple of inches, and I was ready to go.
A gentleman never kisses and tells, so they say, but I will admit that the sex was mind-blowing. (Although I never would have guessed he was a bottom.) It lasted a solid five hours, destroying much of the hotel room in the process, and leaving me with some deep bruising which still hasn't healed. And to think he gave a stirring filibuster on tolerance the whole time! Finally we just lay there, and Cap told me "I've missed this, old chum. You always were the best!" I figured that was a good cue for me to reveal myself, so I started to take off my blonde wig, when suddenly Cap chuckled, "Boy-oh-boy, I'm hungry enough to eat the nuts off a Nazi! What say we have dinner at that little Italian place down the street?" And then I got the idea for the perfect way to end my prank.
As Cap wolfed down his lasagne, I casually mentioned that I had access to secret government time-travel technology. "Like Doctor Doom's time platform?" Cap asked. With some annoyance I answered, "Yeah, only it's like, a billion times better, so there's really no comparison! Gah!" And then I let drop the fact that in the year 2006, same-sex marriage is legal in many parts of the world.
And then he proposed to me.
And then I yanked off the wig and said "Because I'm not Bucky, you idiot! I'm actually the guy you told to shave off his sweet-ass facial hair back in '44! Also? I've had better. Who looks ridiculous now, Cappy? Who looks ridiculous now?! SUCK IT! AGAIN!" And then I flipped him the double space-bird. And, um, then he punched me square in the kisser, dislodging four teeth and shattering my super-cool goggles.
But it was totally worth it.
6 comments:
Geez, Pennsylvania gets rid of Rick Santorum, and all the wackos start crawling out of the woodwork.
I am kidding, the post was funny. Creepy, but funny.
And the word verification was rufxqci, as in do you like RUF X? Q C I sure do!
Now THAT is some fine slashpic.
Suddenly, you're the 31st century's answer to Ashton Kutcher.
"But it was totally worth it."
The sex or dishing out the humiliation?
Jon: Yeah, at times I wonder if I went too far. But then I remember how Captain America mocked my facial hair, and I realize that I was completely justified.
Scipio: From you, that's quite a compliment! Thanks, pal!
Fortress Keeper: Bwuh? Ashton Kutcher screwed Captain America?
Darth Nepharia: Actually, "dishing out the humiliation" is my euphemism for sex.
"Bwuh? Ashton Kutcher screwed Captain America?"
He wishes.
No, it was just a bad reference to Punk'd, although your prank was a bit more extreme!
Still funny, though.
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