Sunday, January 21, 2018

Supercomics #9


Supercat ripped open the bay doors to Kon’s ship. He walked in, preparing for anything. He figured that Kon was hiding or planning something big. From the shadows, a swarm of pink gremlins came out. The riot monsters, Supercat thought. He’s trying to distract me. These things are just putty come to life. Supercat shot and melted the monsters with his heat vision and continued into the ship. I don’t have time for this. He used his super hearing and x-ray vision to find Kon. There. In his mindscape.

The mindscape was a place Kon went to relax and think. It was more dangerous for him to be in there because what he thought could manifest itself into reality. He can be able to see the outcome of a plan before he implements it and adjust accordingly, he can distract you with random people or things, he can distort and reshape reality to fit what he or you want. He spent an entire week in the mindscape before they attacked the last planet. He underestimated Earth. He didn’t plan like he normally did. He definitely didn’t take into account losing Rodham, Grunge, and Supercat.

More riot monsters appeared which Supercat easily took care of but then from the shadows, a larger riot monster, almost as tall as him. The riot monster was able to get a couple punches in but no more. It was like hitting a giant pencil eraser. A large blast of heat vision took care of this riot monster just as easily as the smaller ones.

“Enough of this, Kon,” Supercat said. “How about I just start tearing the ship apart piece by piece?” Supercat smashed his fist into a wall and began pulling out wires and other things from the hole.

“Stop,” Kon said but he wasn’t there. “I am one of the smartest entities in the known universe. I can bend and shape reality while I’m in here. I can bring everyone back for you. Lois, your parents, whoever you desire.”

“It wouldn’t be the same and you can’t buy me off, Kon. I’m not going to let you continue doing what you do,” Supercat continued, walking slowly to the mindscape.

“Are you sure?” from around the corner of the mindscape, Lois Purry appeared.

“Lois…” he stopped suddenly. She looked exactly as he remembered from twenty years ago. She was a reporter for the Daily Cat which is how they met. She was the only one, besides his parents, who knew both his identities. They were engaged to be married before the crystal.

“It’s been a long time,” Lois said.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Supercat began. “I tried to stop the crystal. I tried so hard.”

“It’s okay,” she touched his cheek. “The crystal beat everyone. But you’re here now. We’re here now.” Lois leaned up to kiss Supercat.

Their lips were about to touch when Supercat pulled away. “None of this is real. You’re made up. By Kon,” he said.

“Just forget about that right now. This is as real as you want to make it. Clark…” she whispered his name. His real name.

He shook his head. “No, Lois. No. I wish it were real but it isn’t. It can’t be. Sorry, Lois. I love you,” Supercat pushed his fist through her chest and out her back. As she died, she disappeared. Supercat turned and faced Kon in the mindscape.

“No…” Kon panicked. “Wait.”

Supercat used his heat vision to sever the cords connected to Kon’s head. Kon’s eyes went wide and then he slumped in the chair.

“What happened?” Agent Spider asked as he and America finally arrived and saw Kon defeated.

“Being suddenly removed from the mindscape short-circuited his brain. He’s essentially in a coma.”

“So he’s stopped?” Spider confirmed.

“Yep. What about Grunge and Rodham?”

“Stopped and neutralized,” America then handed Supercat the circular head belt. “Here, this is what we used on Grunge and Rodham to shut down brain activity.”

Supercat slipped the belt on Kon’s head. “Will you guys take care of them?”

“I don’t know about ‘care’ but we’ll make sure they don’t hurt anyone else,” America said.

“What about the other two from your team? The other guy and the girl?”

“They’re fine. They’re on the ground. She really took a beating but she’ll be fine,” Agent Spider said.




Superkitten opened her eyes and her vision slowly regained focus. She saw three people hovering over her, staring at her. “She’s awake,” one of the females said.

“Mom?” Superkitten groaned. “Traci? What are you doing here?” Then she remembered. She sat up. “I’m glad to see you.”

“So this is what you are doing? A super soldier for the government?”

“I had to do something. I nearly killed somebody. I would’ve been in trouble, maybe even taken away. And now I get to train and control my powers and help people. Like Dad used to.”

“You shouldn’t have just left--disappeared like you did. But I am so glad that you are safe,” she hugged Superkitten tightly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Traci said. “Do they not let you out of your cell to visit your best friend?”

“It’s only been a few months. I was going to visit sooner or later,” Superkitten said. “We’ve been busy.”

Superkitten stood up, she was still a little dizzy and her back was radiating with pain. “You be careful out there,” Ms. Kincaid hugged Superkitten again, tighter and longer this time.

“My birthday is coming up. I expect to see you,” Traci said.

Superkitten and Geo-Whiz stepped out into the remains of the neighborhood. They saw Supercat, Agent Spider, and America floating back down to earth with Kon in Supercat’s arms. “We stopped them?” Superkitten sounded skeptical. “I mean, of course we stopped them.”

“Thankfully you were able to knock some sense into Supercat,” America said.

“That reminds me, I need to talk to you about that,” Supercat told Superkitten. “Please, come with me.”

Superkitten felt like a little girl again. She could’ve sworn she heard a classroom say ‘ooh’ as she and Supercat stepped away from the group. “I’m sorry I hit you, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” Supercat interrupted. “You did what you had to do. You didn’t even know if that would work. I’m glad this Earth is as protected as my Earth was. I know it’s all just coincidence but I am so proud my name is continuing. Did you come up with it?”

“Yeah. Super for obvious reasons and kitten because it was a nickname my Dad gave me.”

“Your Dad must be very proud of you.”

“He was shot and killed a few years ago. He was a police officer.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not proud,” Supercat smiled at her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. I’m a stranger in a strange land. I think I’ll just lay low for a bit. Help protect people secretly. You may see me around.”

“Well, if you ever need help, you know who to come to,” Superkitten waved as Supercat lifted off into the air.

“I’ll see you around, Superkitten.”

“Alix.”

Supercat paused. “Clark.”

Superkitten joined Geo-Whiz, Agent Spider, and America again. “He’s not staying with us?” Spider asked.

“No. We’ll probably see him again though. I’m hungry. Can we stop and get something to eat?” Superkitten asked.

“You need to get checked out,” Dmitri said, walking toward the group. “We need to make sure those burns will heal and that your back is okay.”

“I think we can run through a drive-thru somewhere,” Superkitten said. “We did just save the world.”

“I guess we can make a quick stop,” Dmitri said.

“Great. Also, when can I learn to fly the plane? If I were a real teenager I’d know how to drive by now,” Superkitten asked as the team headed back to the plane.




Supercat inspired by characters created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster

Quigley Account Revisited


We're going to try something new this week. Every Sunday I'm going to post about my favorite thing that I've seen over the last week. This week we got the news that Superman's red trunks that have been missing in action since 2011 are making their triumphant return in Action Comics #1000 which comes out in April. Here's a first look at the return.
Art by Jim Lee and Scott Williams. Copyright DC Comics.
A late entry is this picture of President Donald Trump supposedly on the phone trying to end the government shutdown and not posing for stock photo #12576 "angry man in hat on phone at desk".
"Yes? This is President."

Photo by Dan Scavino, Jr.
Thank you to everyone who supports this site. To support even more, please consider backing me on Patreon. If you would like to advertise, check out my Project Wonderful account.

Brutus has worried about the Quigley account before. March 6 and 7 of 2012 to be specific. Brutus must not botch the account much because they still have an account with Veeblefester. An account for tea cozies. What?

I'm just going to imagine that their blankets are really some sort of incubation tube, keeping them in constant state of docility and misery--Quigley account or not.

Saturday, January 20, 2018

Quit Rooting for Teams


I am always a "root for the home team" because having pride in your local sports team boosts morale of the city, the residents, helps the economy, and garners respect. But I don't ever begrudge someone who wants to rally behind another team. I get it. I bet it is very hard to rally behind and stay rallied behind teams like the Cleveland Brown who have won a collective four games in the last three years.

I don't know who Brutus is rooting for here but let's be honest, it's clearly not the Patriots.

Friday, January 19, 2018

Brutus Doesn't Strike Me As a Shiny Top


One thing I've learned with dealing with kids is that you can't really take yourself to seriously. If I took everything that kids have said to me at face value or personally I wouldn't have lasted a month at my job.

I understand that Hattie is probably more of a pain in the ass than just doing bald jokes but Brutus should take this opportunity to be more of a parent to her because it's clear that she doesn't really have anyone. At least in the backstory that I have made up for this comic.

Just roll with it Brutus. You're bald. We all know you're bald. You can't get upset every time someone mentions it. Stop taking life so seriously.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Since 2008


Who are the real losers? I've been asking that for ten years now. Seems like we finally know the answer. I started this after seeing comic strip snarking websites everywhere and thinking "Hey, I can do that." So I did. I'm not as good at it but I did it. I also expanded what I did into stories, ongoing series, research, history, and other things. Who would've thought that we'd see newspaper comics go from black and white to color, the art get simpler, and Uncle Ted going from basically a one-off character to a recurring character. It's been a hell of a drug ride.
"Well, Brutus, a little from Column A and a little from Column B."

If I were Brutus, I would take Veeblefester's constant put-downs and mentions about how terrible he is at his job as an excuse to just stop working. If I do a crappy job every day just by trying, then imagine what I can't accomplish if I just sit on my butt all day. I'll be employee of the month every single month.

POB #6: Tank N Tummy


Harry was sound asleep with a smile on his face when a long, slender tongue began coming down on his ear. The tongue began licking in and around the ear. The smile on Harry’s face disappeared and a look of disgust washed over it. His eyes shot open and Harry pushed himself out of bed and onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Harry shouted at the woman who had penetrated his ear with her tongue.

“Using a unique way to wake you up,” the woman smiled. “Do you want to go again?” she grinned.

Harry stared at the woman in the bed, trying to remember her name. He then looked over at the clock. “Emily! Yes, that’s it. That’s your name. I would love to…do all that but I’m late for work,” Harry said, telling the truth but it obviously sounded like a lie. Harry stood up and began searching through the mess that was Emily’s floor. She eyed his genitals seductively and licked her lips. Harry noticed and covered himself. “Stop looking at it!”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night when my whole head was in that vicinity,” Emily smiled.

Harry found his clothes and began putting them on. “I had a nice time. I’ll see you around, Emily.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Emily pleaded. “You’re already late for work. What’s another thirty minutes.”

“No, I have to go. See you,” and Harry left Emily’s bedroom.

Emily rolled over on her back and moved her fingers to her crotch. “What if I lick your asshole?” she shouted after him.




It took Harry about ten minutes to get from the dorms where Emily lived at Engel and Irving Hill Road to the Tank N Tummy convenience store at Sixth and Kasold. The Tank N Tummy was your average convenience store selling your common overpriced wares all because the gasoline doesn’t make a profit. Harry parked his Ford Explorer on the west side of the building next to a beat up Toyota Tercel hatchback. The Toyota belonged to Harry’s best friend, Zeke.

Zachary Hollister, or Zeke, which is what he wanted to be called, had been friends with Harry since Kindergarten. Zeke began elementary school as a shy, slightly overweight, red-haired wimp and after high school was an outgoing, slightly overweight, balding wimp. Harry took care of the shy part.

Harry walked into the Tank N Tummy. Zeke was behind the counter restocking the cigarettes. “Zeke, I’m sorry I’m late. I wasn’t sleeping in my own bed, her actually wanting anal sex threw me off and this morning, there was a tongue in my ear,” Harry attempted to explain.

“It’s okay, Harry. You know people just come in to buy coffee, newspapers and cigarettes in the morning. Why are you late?” Zeke asked.

“I met a girl. Her name is Emily. She let me do awful things to her,” Harry said and smiled.

“Oh, you thinking about seeing her again?” Zeke asked.

“Of course not.”

“Why did I think otherwise?”

“Are we still on for tonight?” Harry asked as he grabbed an issue of U.S. News & World Report off the shelf and went behind the counter with Zeke.

“I don’t know about Jason or Dustin but I’m ready,” Zeke said. “I printed off a bunch of stuff about the house and cemetery last night and spent most of last night reading about it. The stories people tell about them are amazing and it would be great if the stories were true.”

Harry began reading his magazine. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Why do we need a reason? We’re doing it to find out if the legends are true. Common sense says they are not but there are some strange things in this world. Plus, it’s a part of our history being in this county,” Zeke exclaimed.

“Eloquently said, Zeke. I’m gonna go get me some Cheez-Its,” Harry left the counter and walked over to the aisle with chips and crackers. Cheez-It was Harry’s only vice and he would go long way for the name brand baked cheese goodness.

“We don’t have any,” Zeke said as they reached the shelves the Cheez-It’s used to be.

“Why not?” Harry asked with anger rising in his voice.

“They weren’t selling so the boss had me not order any this time around. We’ll get more next week.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Harry complained.

“Oh, calm down. There’s still a box of Cheesie Bits down there,” Zeke pointed.

“You know damn well they are not the same thing!”

“Oh, here we go,” Zeke rolled his eyes.

“Cheez-It, produced by the Sunshine Biscuit Company—now a property of the Kellogg Company—have been the premier baked cheese snack cracker since 1921 and while Nabisco’s Kraft Cheese Nips come close and have, admittedly, more cheese flavor, Cheez-It are the go-to cracker for both cheese and salt,” Harry illuminated.

“I know. You’ve told me,” Zeke complained.

“Remember when we ran out of gummi worms and I told you to just eat gummi bears?”

“Well, gummi bears are just plain disgusting,” Zeke made a face.

“Well, so are generic baked cheese crackers,” Harry sighed and went back to his magazine behind the counter.

Someone came into the store and headed over to the coffee station. Zeke sat down on a stool with the local paper and began reading. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Miyoki died,” Zeke said and showed Harry the obituary in the paper. The picture accompanying the obit was Miyoki’s senior high school picture, Zeke recognized.

Harry read the obit. “Wow…” he said. “I wonder what she died from.”

“It doesn’t say but she was in San Francisco. I should call her parents,” Zeke said.

“Are they parents that still like you?”

“All my former girlfriend’s parents still like me,” Zeke said.

“You just keep telling yourself that,” Harry shook his head.

“Miyoki was my first,” Zeke said solemnly. “I can still remember how it felt.”

“I don’t need any details.”

“Who was your first time?” Zeke asked Harry.

“Your mom. Why don’t you call Miyoki’s parents now?” Harry said and scooted the magazine over when the customer finished at the coffee station and came up to the counter.

“How come you don’t have any of that flavored coffee that those big chain store have?” the customer said.

“What? You mean like Starbucks?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I love their coffee,” the customer said.

“I do too. $2.35,” Harry said.

“I drink your coffee because it’s cheap,” the customer chuckled.

“Yeah…” Harry hated talking to the customers.

“You should put out some chocolate syrup and whipped cream for people to put in with their coffee,” the customer suggested.

“Then we’d have to charge a lot more than $2.35 for it,” Harry faked a laugh and smiled big.

The customer laughed too. “Yeah, I guess so.” The customer headed out the door. “Have a good day!” he shouted.

“You, too!” Harry shouted back then angrily went back to his magazine. Zeke returned and sat back down on his stool. “You get a hold of Miyoki’s parents?”

“Yeah,” Zeke answered.

“How’d she die?”

“She was in San Francisco—she moved there for school—and she was riding the Golden Gate Transit, a public transportation bus, and she saw someone she knew and wanted to get their attention so she opened the window and stuck her body halfway out. The bus makes a sharp turn and she hits a light post, cracking her skull and snapping her back,” Zeke said.

“Ew. That’s graphic,” Harry said. Harry thought for a second and began chuckling. “’Stuck her body halfway out’? I can actually see her hanging out of the bus window, flailing her arms and screaming. It’s kind of funny.”

“A girl died Harry. A girl we both knew and went to school with,” Zeke said. “It’s not funny, it’s tragic.”

“Oh, quit being overly sensitive. You acted the same way when that football player died in our senior year.”

“It’s sad when people that young die!” Zeke exclaimed.

“It’s sad when they have a disease. It’s sad when they are in a car accident. The football guy was drunk. His blood alcohol level was 0.22 which is almost three times over the legal limit. He’s lucky he didn’t hurt or kill another person,” Harry pointed out. “I’m sick of him being made out to be a martyr.”

“Jeez, calm down. You’d feel differently if it were you.”

“I already told my mom not to make me out to be a hero if my death is my fault,” Harry went back to his magazine.

“That’s a nice mother-son conversation,” Zeke said.


Wednesday, January 17, 2018

-25 In February 1899


The coldest winter day that I remember was back in 19Dickety6. We had to say "Dickety" because President Clinton had lost our word "ninety" to Saddam Hussein. We'd get it back in 19Dickety8. Anyway, the day started out normal, it was just a little cloudy and I was walking uphill to school with my beet necklace--we all had beet necklaces, that being the style at the time. By the time I got to school, it had started raining and the temperature really dropped. Suddenly, the rain started turning to ice. I noticed this when my friend, Grover, asked me for a couple of bees. That's what we called quarters back then because they had pictures of bees on them. "Give me four bees for a dollar" you'd say.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Soon everything was covered in ice and it had started snowing. At about 40 to the owl's head--which was what we called 12 o'clock on account of the owl's head in that location, back then, clocks had pictures of birds on them. "I'll meet you at the bowling alley at a quarter past a cardinal" you'd say.--the principal came over the intercom and said we could go home because there was two inches of ice underneath three inches of snow. I bundled up, making sure my beet necklace was over my coat because you didn't want to be caught without it, and began the treacherous uphill climb back home.