Hey, Bill S.! Yeah, you, you comedian! I'm STRAIGHT! Got it?!(!!!!)
I was the third-maddest I've ever been when I read that comment you made in yesterday's post (and after Storm Boy explained to me what it meant). I'm a LADIES' MAN, 110%!
...No, that's impossible.
I just haven't had a metric-ton of luck with them. That's all. And the last thing I need is for some primitive Earth-jerk killing my game. Someday... someday I'll go all the way with a hot sexy woman. You'll see. Well, not literally. Unless you're into that. (I'm sophisticated! Just don't touch me.) Are we cool? GREAT.
I suppose you all are wondering what's going on with Blockade Boy. Yeah, us too. He's been spotted around the city, beating up Science Police cops and U.P. military officers, and then forcibly re-tailoring their costumes. Mostly, he just turns their jackets into vests, confiscates their shirts, and lowers the waistlines on their trousers. It turns out, some of 'em like it.
Here at the office, business is dead. Storm Boy has us cold-calling people, to see if they need any crimes solved. You can imagine how well that's working. Storm Boy gave us this big, emotional speech about how he was going to quadruple our business. So I said, "And four times zero equals...?" That got a pretty good laugh out of everybody. Everybody except Storm Boy.
Alright, people. It's time for another comic cover review by Gadfly Lad, the spectacular character find of 3008! ...Wait, what? Wasn't it 2988, just last week? If I didn't know better, I'd swear I existed on some kind of sliding time continuum.
Oh! Oh! I know who this guy is! For once!
I should warn you, my knowledge of 2oth-century popular culture is operating at only 21.077% of capacity but I do watch the heavily-degraded holo-transfers of ancient Earth I.Q. tests on Lallor's "Gameshow Station." The old commercials are the best part!
As should be obvious from the logo on his chest, this bow-legged buccaneer is "Targitt", the official corporate mascot for the Targitt chain of discount superstores. He's a wholly-fictional character, who exists only to sell merchandise -- just like his contemporaries, Cap'n Crunch, Spuds MacKenzie, and Queen Latifah.
I'm not sure whom the old guy with the death-cloud spewing from his hair is supposed to represent. (Is it the fearsome Discount Warlord, Sam Walton?) And man, if that's "the dry look", I'll just stick with my pomade, a-thank-you very much.
What I don't understand is, Targitt's talking about "mopping up" and yet, that's clearly not a mop in his hands. A mop traditionally consists of a staff, which is composed of [EDITED FOR SPACE] but then we started finding blood in his stools. Well, enough of this for now. I'll see you fools tomorrow, assuming the space-bank doesn't foreclose on our office. ("Padlocked doors?" Naive throwbacks--! Here on Lallor, they just haul the entire building away!) Stay cool, people!