It's All Fun and Games Until Gadfly Lad's Arms Get Chopped Off

Well, thank the Luck Lords that's over! The Blockade Boy Revenge Squad is suitably smashed, and I've acquired like, two hundred new boyfriends who don't mind it when I tell them how to dress. Oh, and most of them are green, thanks to Green Boy, but I'm told that will wear off. Eventually.

Of course, there was the not-so-little matter of Gadfly Lad. I'll get to him in a bit. But first, some bullet points:

• Most of the Revenge Squad is now in jail, and rather quickly, too. It turns out Gadfly Lad had already transmitted the Squad's records to the U.P. before I got a chance to. So the Squad's headquarters were stormed by U.P. goons soldiers (and a fine, upstanding bunch they are, too!) about twenty minutes into the donnybrook.
• Intern Alchemy got one of the longer sentences, for counterfeiting space-cheddah. But from the look on his face when they loaded his battered, moist body into the hover-ambulance, I think he's going to like prison just fine.
• Polecat and Calamity King kept arguing over which one of them was the mastermind of the whole operation, so both their asses got handed life sentences.
• After a thorough review of his activities in the Squad, Green Boy was arrested for "aggravated loitering", given a lengthy scrubbing, and sent to a halfway house for depressed losers.
• Gossip Queen is in the prison hospital, getting his face reconstructed, to accommodate two regular robot eyes, instead of that souped-up model he used to spy on me. It's back to short-range psychic tracking for him! By the way, I've heard that he told the doctors that he wants to look like Coluan teen heartthrob, Dox Efron.

Now, about Gadfly Lad...

It turns out he's got a soft spot as well as a hard-on for Calorie Queen, because when I tossed him his old flying harness (hidden trickfully behind my cloak), he grabbed her arm, and hollered, "Come with me, if you want to live!" But just then, two of the less-savory members of the Blockade Mob sliced his arms clean-off, using laser axes. Gadfly Lad collapsed in an adorably tiny heap. Calorie Queen held up her own arm, with one of Gadfly Lad's severed arms still clinging to it, and then we both started screaming and punching the living daylights out of the Mob members. I took a moment to shoot Ox a look and to nod my head a certain way. Ox took my meaning, because he gathered up what was left of Gadfly Lad, and barreled his way through the riot, and outside, to safety.

At the hospital satellite, Gadfly Lad was given two options: they could either grow two new arms for him, which would take nine months and cost three whole wheels of space-cheddah, or, they could slap on some robot arms, which would take immediately and cost one-jillionth of the first option. Gadfly Lad asked if they could outfit the robot arms with lightning bolt powers. The doctors shrugged their shoulders and said, sure, why not?

The U.P. dropped all charges against me, but they insisted I complete my contract as a space-pirate. Since I don't have any artificial limbs (anymore), I'd have to be a first mate, or something even more degrading. And then -- bless his heart! -- Gadfly Lad raised a metal arm, and asked if somebody could replace me in my unfulfilled space-pirate duties! That's right: the scrappy li'l fella is gonna be a space-pirate captain! With his new robot arms, he's more than qualified! Gadfly Lad also wrangled a deal for Calorie Queen to serve as "first mate", on a work-release program. I couldn't help but notice the sparse black fuzz already sprouting on his cheeks. It seems my little man is getting older! Or maybe the frequent screwing with Calorie Queen has jump-started something. Either way, it's nice to see.

Gadfly Lad decided he doesn't want to be called that anymore, on account of it not befitting a space-pirate, and also that it would "cramp his romance" with the insect-phobic Calorie Queen. A dazzle-gem of an idea gleamed in my eyes. I told him that I had the perfect new identity for him. So, one new costume, some hair extensions, and a pair of spray-painted Nth-metal wings later, I give you...

THE NEW BLACK CONDOR!

Please Enjoy This Virtual Seat At An Official Revenge Squad Meeting!

(It's just that you're not allowed to say anything. Deal with it.)

Calamity King: Hear ye, hear ye. This meeting of the Blockade Boy Revenge Squad will now come to order! Secretary, do we have any unfinished business from our last meeting?

Gossip Queen: Polecat wanted 2 make a resolution barring U from parking your tricked-out Alfa Centauri Spider rocket-car in front of our SECRET HEADQUARTERS!!! But!!! You made us TABLE IT until the NEXT meeting!!! Which is THIS 1!!!!!!!

Calamity King: No way I'm moving my ride, dude! It's a total pussy wagon!

Polecat: I would have said "skank engine", but space-potato, space-potah-to. You have to listen to reason, Calamity! Even forgetting the glow-in-the-dark finish you painted it with, the spoiler you put on it is like, three times bigger than the car itself! It attracts unwanted attention!

Calamity King: Fine! Let's put it to a vote! All for moving my rocket-car?

Polecat: Aye.

Calamity King: All opposed?

Calamity King, Calorie Queen, Gossip Queen, Green Boy, Intern Alchemy, "Tater" Bugzz: [all of them displaying reluctance]: Nay.

[Suddenly, Polecat's chair collapses out from under him.]

Calamity King: Yikes, huh? You okay, pal? Green Boy, go get Polecat another chair.

[Green Boy lazily shambles out of the room.]

Calamity King: Weird, how you're the only one that ever happens to, Polecat. Maybe you need to go on a diet.

Polecat: Luck Lords damn you! I know it was your fault! We all know! [to the other Squad members] How long are we going to take this? He's the worst leader the Squad has ever had! I say, it's time we stood up to him! He can't take all of us at once, and--

[Abruptly, a ceiling tile falls on Polecat's head and knocks him on his ass.]

Calamity King: Wow! That looked painful. Polecat, pal, I think this little tantrum of yours has got you all tired out. Why don't you take a breather. Go design us all some new hats or something.

[Polecat leaves, muttering.]

Calamity King: Alrighty! Time for new business! Treasurer, how are we doin' for space-cheddah?

Intern Alchemy: By the winged staff of Hermes Trismegistus, it goes not well, my liege! The wheels of space-cheddah in our most-sacred vault are vanishing into the ether! I made free to spend yesterday evening within the vaults itself, as a guardian! Truly, I had purified myself for the vigil, touching neither food nor drink (save my customary flagon of space-wine). But still, a peculiar fatigue overcame my person. The mechanations of an evil spirit, I trow! When I had again recovered my senses, but one wheel of space-cheddah remained! Without a doubt, sinister forces are moving against us! Or maybe, y'know, we just have rats or somethin'. I dunno.

Calamity King: Big deal! Make us some more, already!

Intern Alchemy: Regretfully, I have suffered ill-fortune in every attempt, of late. Strange fluids have appeared within the pasteurizing vats, polluting the curds.

Calamity King: The hell? Like what?

Intern Alchemy: Urine, mostly.

Calamity King: So we're talkin' sabotage.

Gossip Queen: R we?????

Calorie Queen: Yeah! Are we, really?

Calamity King: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Tater" Bugzz: Prob'ly yer sleep-walkin', pardner.

Calamity King: Watch it, newbie.

Calorie Queen: Everybody knows, Calamity. Don't get us wrong, you're a cool guy and all, but you need to figure out some way to stay inside your Venturan star stone sarcophagus at night. Otherwise, all your bad luck mojo is gonna contaminate the whole squad! Unless you've figured out some way to control your power while you're sleeping.

Calamity King: I do not sleep-walk!

Gossip Queen: Oh????? Then HOW do U explain why you're always waking up outside your sarcophagus lately?????? We keep finding U dozing in the holo-vision lounge, in the kitchen... and outside the space-cheddah vault!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!

Calamity King: Aw, c'mon! You can't seriously think--

"Tater" Bugzz [to Gossip Queen]: Ackshully, I figgered you were the culprit, Gossip Queen! I mean, 'tain't no secret ya got a hankerin' fer cheese! [He pokes Gossip Queen's belly and man-boobs, repeatedly.]

Gossip Queen: Hey!!! Back off, SHORT STUFF!!!!!!

"Tater" Bugzz: "Yeller"?! NOBODY calls "Tater" Bugzz "yeller"!

Gossip Queen: "Yeller"???? What th'--?????

Calorie Queen: Relax, honey, I don't think he meant--

"Tater" Bugzz: I'LL SHOW YOU "YELLER"! [He punches Gossip Queen in his cameramatic eye prosthesis with one of his shock gauntlets, smashing the lens and frying the circuitry at the same time.]

Gossip Queen: GAH!!! I'M BLIND!!! YOU CRAZY BITCH!!! YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!!!!!

"Tater" Bugzz: YEE-HAW! WHO WANTS SOME? I'LL TAKE ALL Y'ALL ON! HOO-DOGGIES!

Calorie Queen [dragging "Tater" towards the door]: I'm really sorry, you guys. "Tater" has this condition where he gets these really sexy berserker rages. There's only one way I've found to calm him down. We won't be back for, oh, about three hours.

[They exit.]

Calamity King [blinking in wonderment]: What the hell just happened...?

Gossip Queen: WHO CARES??!!!! Just get me 2 an Omnicom so I can order another camera-eye!!!!

Calamity King: Holy balls! How long will it take to arrive?

Gossip Queen: 6-8 weeks, usually!!! In the MEANTIME, I plan on holing up in my bedroom suite with a carton of fudge cakes and my massaging showerhead!!!! And I am NOT to be disturbed!!!!! Oh, this STINGS like a BASTARD!!!!! That little TURD BUCKET...!!!!!!!

[Calamity King and Intern Alchemy escort Gossip Queen from the conference room.]

[Two-and-a-half minutes later, Green Boy enters, listlessly dragging a chair behind him. He gazes morosely at the now-empty room.]

Green Boy [barely audible]: Hello...? Anybody...?

[One minute later, he crawls under the conference table, curls up into a ball, and begins snoring.]

Roll Call!

Welcome back, comrade!

It seems like you can't go anywhere nowadays without seeing Blockade Boy's face. Be it on a wanted poster, an unauthorized holovision documentary, a t-shirt at Hot Space Topic, or merely shaved into the haunches of a poodle, Blockade Boy's obnoxious, fur-bearing mug is impossible to avoid. And you're undoubtedly SICK TO DEATH OF HIM.

Relax. You're among friends, here. Because the good men (and woman) of the Blockade Boy Revenge Squad have been hating on Blockade Boy for years. Like you, we possess a heightened sense of aesthetics (and propriety) that opened the doors of our perceptions to the Grand Secret of the Universe: namely, that Blockade Boy is not "all that." Or, to be perfectly blunt about it, that he's a raging jerk-hole who somehow enjoys happiness and success that is far in excess of what he deserves. That's why the Blockade Boy Revenge Squad works -- tirelessly -- to balance the cosmic scales. From slipping Blockade Boy a depilatory to tying his sleeping ass to a missile and firing it across the sea, the Blockade Boy Revenge Squad is on your side, giving the Great Gay Ape what-for.

But who are these shadowy, heroic figures? Wonder no more! It's time for the Blockade Boy Revenge Squad Roll Call!



POLECAT: the Squad's founder, and a three-time former president. He currently serves the Squad as "creative consultant" plus he designed the uniforms!

Powers and abilities: can squeeze out a powerful musk from his horns! And he loves to dance.

Turn-ons: Khundish Leather deodorant (because it barely works at all), pudding-eating contests, buffalo plaids, cobbling. Turn-offs: nature hikes, jet exhaust, obstetrics. Hates Blockade Boy because: Blockade Boy created the cruel nickname that followed him through high school and college ("Polecrap"); Blockade Boy crushed him under his steel-wall form so many times that he's pretty sure it was on purpose; look at him, I mean, just look at his face, don't you just want to pop him one?



GREEN BOY: former Squad president (impeached), former Squad secretary (impeached), former Squad public relations officer (impeached). Nowadays he's mainly sent out for coffee and pizza and such. Green Boy is currently on a "spiritual quest" to discover a practical use for his power.

Powers and abilities: Green Boy can make anything green! For instance? His hair!

Turn-ons: staring into space, slouching, mumbling, bed rest. Turn-offs: making eye contact, complete sentences, hygiene. Hates Blockade Boy because: Blockade Boy spurned his advances. Also, Blockade Boy is so happy and successful that it plunged Green Boy into an existential crisis. Honestly, will goodness (by which we mean "blandly agreeable passivity") never prevail?



GOSSIP QUEEN: Squad secretary. Real name: Perez Dox. Other aliases: Camera Eye, Camera Kid, TMI Teen, Paparazzi Perez.

Powers and abilities: 12th-level bitchery, plus he had his eyeballs replaced by this super-cool device that lets him record anything he's seen, and then project it onto walls, with scribbles drawn all over it. With great concentration, he can also see the current whereabouts of anyone he's met in person... like Blockade Boy! How handy!

Turn-ons: pastels, pastilles, pistols. Also, anything deep-fried. Turn-offs: Princess Projectra (he is so over her), kangabronc-skin pants, back hair. Hates Blockade Boy because: back hair.



CALAMITY KING: Squad president. (His campaign slogan: "Bring Sexy Back.")

Powers and abilities: can alter probability to "jinx" people, and he can mostly control it these days, unless he's asleep.

Turn-ons: hats (the tinier the better), childbearing hips, surgical scars, stomach crunches. Turn-offs: women who "mouth off" or who are taller than 1.72 meters, culottes. Hates Blockade Boy because: Blockade Boy started a rumor in high school that Calamity King is gay, just because he kind of hates women, but he's NOT! He's totally not. Calamity King has slept with over seven hundred lovely ladies in a valiant effort to put an end to this misinformation, but he still can't stop thinking about Blockade Boy, and what he said. Damn him!



INTERN ALCHEMY: Squad treasurer. Former name: Rann Antar, but that's all forgotten now, since he initiated himself into the secret brotherhood of alchemists.

Powers and abilites: genius alchemist. Most of his experiments involve changing things into either feathers or lead. However, he has also hit upon a formula for transforming milk, bacterial cultures, and certain enzymes into space-cheddah, which is how the squad can pay for all of its wonderful projects (such as strapping Blockade Boy to a missile).

Turn-ons: musty old scrolls, musty old books, musty old DVD's. Turn-offs: sunlight, physical exercise, the laughter of small children. Hates Blockade Boy because: not quite certain, but it started after he tried to create a "signature fragrance" for Blockade Boy in the parfumerie in the back of his trailer pod, and it freaking exploded and caused all his pubes to fall out. He would like to someday transform Blockade Boy into lead. Or, perhaps, feathers.



CALORIE QUEEN: Squad public relations officer.

Powers and abilities: can eat anything (like Matter-Eater Lad) and it makes her super-strong (like Popeye!)

Turn-ons: quarries, piles of rubble, hover-car wrecking yards, face paint, natural blonds, short dudes, cowboys. Turn-offs: insects. Hates Blockade Boy because: when they were both life guards at the same pool that one summer, he just would not shut up about her thighs, and she developed an eating disorder. The sad part is, he thought he was being helpful.



"TATER" BUGZZ: Squad webmaster, who not only came up with the idea for this website, but devised some method by which it's on a secure network, and cannot be viewed by the wrong people. (There are "wrong people", you know.)

Powers and abilities: knack for trivia, plus a skilled brawler and he has these "shock gauntlets" which pack quite the whammy.

Turn-ons: demolition hover-car derbies, wrasslin', playin' sad songs on his fiddle down by the crick. Turn-offs: space-cops, Lallor's crippling dependence on foreign nuclear rods. Hates Blockade Boy because: Blockade Boy swindled him out of his family's farm in a poker game, and his ma died from the shame of it. He's gonna git Blockade Boy. He's gonna git 'im good.

I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)

Presenting a new one-act play by Blockade Boy, inspired by a story in "What If?" #37 (February 1983).

Cast of Characters
The Blocker................Observer of All Things Fabulous................Blockade Boy
Reed Richards..........................Ductile Know-It-All.........................Hugh Laurie
Ben Grimm.................Lumpy Self-Pitying Whiner.................James Gandolfini
Norrinn Radd..............................Pathetic Bald Emo-Boy.............................Moby

Setting: Reed Richard's futuristic laboratory atop the luxurious Baxter Building.

The curtain rises on a darkened stage. After ten minutes or so, a spotlight tracks the Blocker entering stage left. He is a tall, powerfully-built man with a large bald head denoting an ancient wisdom. He also has a kick-ass bleached-white biker 'stache which is pretty damned cool if you ask me. He is attired in a modest, yet nipple-revealing toga. In purple, of course.

The Blocker: Greetings, friends. Know ye now, the fabric of time is as delicate as silk. With the subtlest alteration, a tear may appear that in time may destroy whole civilizations, or at least cause an awful lot of humiliation at your Junior Space Winter Dance, because your date Calamity King stepped on your trouser cuffs while you dancing and your pants got pulled totally off and now everybody's laughing at you, especially that bitch Polecat and even Calamity King is laughing his ass off and you feel horrible even though you only agreed to ask Calamity King out as a favor to his pal Green Boy who is the one you wanted to go with originally and so of course you have no choice but to start a brawl in the middle of the dance floor and you nail Calamity King square in the nose and Polecat goes down like a sack of space-taters and before you know it, half the school is wailing on one another in a seething mass, and you notice Green Boy's head is right in your crotch and it's not like he was trying to ram your stomach with his head and he missed and he's not trying to bite your nuts off, Jack Bauer-style, and it's not as though somebody else has bumped into him and pressed his head into your crotch, it's more like his head is just resting there -- and sure, finally the robo-chaperones drag you off and you get put on suspension for a whole semester but later Green Boy holo-phones you for a date so it wasn't a complete loss. Er, where was I? Oh yeah. Time. Annnnyhow, when the Fantastic Four drove Galactus away from Earth the first time, it was with the help of his herald, the Silver Surfer. So as punishment, Galactus made it so the Surfer was trapped on Earth. But he could have taken away his powers, too! So let's see what would have happened if the Surfer had lost his powers, and if he was desperate to return to his space-girlfriend, and if he went to Reed Richards for help, and if Richards was still secretly pissed off at the Surfer for bringing Galactus to Earth in the first place.

The Blocker exits, stage right.

The lights go up to reveal Reed Richard's futuristic laboratory, which looks remarkably like the set of "Sanford and Son." Richards is fiddling with a piece of high-tech alien machinery. To the untrained eye, the device resembles a rusted-out muffler.

Richards: Aw, sweet. I bet I could make a killer saxophone from this. Yo, Benny-boy! How you coming on the banjo?

Grimm stands up from a waist-high pile of junk in the background. He stays there throughout the entire scene.

Grimm: Well, I got a toilet seat here that could maybe work for the front part of the "pot" or whatever and there's a cardboard tube from some wrapping paper we could make into the neck but I dunno what we're gonna do for the struts or whatever the hell they're called.

Richards: How's about actual struts? Y'know, like from a car?

Grimm: Does that even make sense? And now that I come to think of it, does a banjo even have struts? Or is that just guitars?

Richards: How the fuck should I know? I ain't no musician. I just got me a jones to construct the world's most awesomest Dixieland band. And I prob'ly won't even care about that once the acid wears off. Which reminds me: you should probably get your ass out of there on account the junk is melting and reforming into a swarm of tiny alligators.

Grimm: Naw, I'm good.

Norrinn Radd enters, stage left, in an agitated state.

Radd: Reed Richards! Praise the space-gods, I have found you at last!

Richards: Christ almighty, not you again! Haven't you caused enough trouble?

Grimm: And what's with the "I have found you at last" crap? We fucking live here.

Radd: If I have offended you, I apologize most sincerely. I come to you on a mission of utmost importance.

Richards: No shit? What, did you lead another planet-destroying giant here?

Grimm: 'Cause you're really good at that.

Radd [annoyed]: As you will recall, I lent you my aid in repelling the World-Devourer, and I was punished for my betrayal when he stripped me of my space-spanning cosmic powers.

Grimm: Yeah, that was pretty funny, alright.

Richards: Yeah, when you were all silver and shit you looked kinda awesome but now you're just this dopey bald jerk-off.

Radd: I shall get right to the point, then. I seek a way to return to my homeworld of Zenn-La and the waiting arms of my lost love, Shalla-Bal.

Grimm: Huh. I don't remember you being so hung up on this "Sha-na-na" person when you were macking on my girlfriend, chico.

Richards: Aw, man! I forgot all about that! [he waggles a finger at Radd] That was totally uncool, dude. I mean, look at Benjy over there. He had a hard-enough time snagging a blind girlfriend, much less a sighted one.

Grimm: Yup, because even if they can't see me, they can still feel that I'm butt-ugly.

Richards: He had to track down a blind girl with a mothering complex so she wouldn't mind just sitting there and listening all the time while he went on and on and on about how fugly he is. The two a' ya don't even screw, do ya, Ben-Ben? 'Cause it'd pulverize her into little bloody gobs! Haw!

Grimm [looks down, sheepishly]: Alicia wants to take it slow.

Richards: So I can only imagine what kind of dog this "Sally Pal" person is.

Radd [imperious]: If you must know, I'd say she's a dead ringer for the Terran pop singer, Christina Aguilera. When her hair was black.

Richards: Day-um! No kiddin'?

Grimm: I'd hit that.

Richards: Well, hell, dude... let's get your sorry ass off this dirtball planet! I already got me an idea on how to do it. Ben-Gay, where'd I put that orange "flying harness" we recovered from the Negative Zone?

Grimm: Huh? What are you talking abou--

Richards: There it is. Right in front of you. See? The special magic "flying harness? [he raises his eyebrows a couple of times] You know the one I mean?

Grimm: Oh! The flying harness! Yeah! Sorry, I can be a real dumb-ass sometimes.

Radd: This looks like a life-preserver with some macaroni-art glued to it.

Richards: HA HA HA HA HA! Oh you stupid alien sunuvabitch!

Grimm: Yeah! You stupid sunuvabitch!

Richards: What the fuck would you know about it? I'm the scientist here!

Radd: Well, I was an astronomer on my homeworld, which is lightyears ahead of yours when it comes to technology, so I think I'd know a little something about this.

Richards [throws up his hands]: Fine! Screw it! You can invent something yourself, then. Get lost.

Radd: No! Forgive me, friend. It's only that I miss my beloved Shalla-Bal so...

Richards: Dude's got blue balls, huh? Check it, Bendy-straw! Ol' Baldy here's gonna make a booty call! [he smacks Radd on the back of the head]

Radd: Ow!

Richards: Lessee, lessee, what else do I got that's orange -- er, I mean, "spaceworthy?"

Grimm: Yo, how's about that quiver -- um, I mean, "propulsion unit" -- on top of the busted-out TV over there?

Richards: Attaboy, Benihana! Now you're gettin' it!

Grimm: And that old bike helmet! Er, I mean, "atmospheric bubble generator!"

Richards: Now we're cookin'! Get ready for the ride of your life, Norville!

Radd [wary]: "Norrinn."

Richards: What-ever. Jesus, you're a buzzkill. Has anyone ever told you that? Hey, Bensonhurst! Toss me that extension cord! And the gaffer's tape! No, the orange gaffer's tape! And the broken "Speak and Spell!"

[Richards hastily assembles the junk around Radd's body, while Radd stands there looking uneasy. When Richards finishes, he stands there silently observing Radd until Radd's nervousness overwhelms him and he speaks.]

Radd: Is-- is that it?

Richards: Is what it? ...Oh, you mean the flying harness inter-...spacial... rocket. Device. Sure, why not? OKAY! What you need to do next, is you get your ass in that elevator over there [points stage right] and press the "up" button and it'll take you straight to the roof. And then all you do is walk to the edge and jump and at the same time press this button on the control pad right here.

Radd: Why do I have to jump?

Grimm: You just do, okay?

Richards: You need that extra little burst of propulsion or whatever, or else you'll never make it to your planet and you'll just be floating out in space forever and then you'll die. That clear enough for you, Sparky?

Radd: Thank you, friends. I shall treasure this day always. [He exits stage right]

Grimm: I thought he'd never leave. Now we can get back to making your banjo!

Richards: Banjo?! What the hell are you even talking about?

[The lights go down and the curtain closes. The Blocker strides majestically in front of the curtain and addresses the audience.]

The Blocker: Norrinn Radd plummetted to his messy doom soon after. But as he fell, he had a vivid day-dream about soaring through space, into the arms of his lady-love. And he also had enough time to imagine Galactus taking a gargantuan dump on Reed Richards and Ben Grimm.

finis

Several Crimes for Grimey Brothers

In "Iron Man" #188 (November 1984) two brothers buy a delapidated old theater "in a certain section of Los Angeles" with plans to turn it into a sleek, modern porn-o-plex. One of them discovers a pair of weird costumes in the back. Naturally, he tries one on and does a little fashion show for his brother. ...This is starting to sound a lot like amateur incest-fetish fiction, isn't it? Don't worry; it's only Denny O'Neil. (Huh. I still feel a little queasy.)

The brothers are named Grimes, but by a Silver Age-y coincidence, the costumes used to belong to the old Spider-Woman villains, the Brothers Grimm. And the tacky duds, while not exactly fabulous, are magic.

Enough with the shouting already! Jeebus! Who knew Jim Belushi was such a little bitch? Oh, and "I don't even know how I got it on you?" I've heard that excuse before. From Calamity King, after an unfortunate "spooning accident" we had while on a camping trip to Olympus Mons. And then our blanket turned out to be Ronn-Kar. *shudder*

The Grimes are investors in real estate, so they decide to use the Grimm costumes to take revenge on a man who beat them out of a high-end property -- a restaurant.

Although to be fair, the Grimes were only going to turn the restaurant into a porno theater. It's what they do. (Kidding.)

"My soup-- eating through the table!" Yeah, like she was only going to eat soup. (Meow! I know; I'm an asswipe. But you must admit I wear it well.) If I were her I'd be more concerned about her dinner companion's shadow suddenly devouring his entire body, but yeah, soup is important. Also, she had the bad fortune to go there during a "Top Chef" Restaurant Wars challenge, so the soup would have had the properties of hydrochloric acid anyway. (Michael, pack your knives and go. And take those little turds Marcel and Ilan with you, m'kay?)

I know what he means about the mask. I have some argyle socks that make me feel the same way.

The last panel of this issue is meant to show that the Iron Man helmet is seriously screwing up James Rhodes' brain, because no superhero in all of comicdom would ever, under any conditions, think this: