days it just doesn’t pay to save anyone.
“T minus thirty seconds...”
“MMAA PAM MAM PAM MAM!” Boy-in-the Plastic-Bubble Boy screamed as he banged his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice against the tiny doorway. I don’t know how the Brotherhood of Rottenness got him into this room, but there was no way he was getting out; not without a jackhammer and twenty pounds of butter.
“You won’t fit!” I shouted.
“Mmaa pam mam pam mam...?” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy whined.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“T minus twenty-five seconds...”
So there I was, about to get sucked into space and . . . well ... you know ... and my last twenty seconds of life were being spent with a kid in a giant hamster ball who kept saying “Mmaa pam mam pam mam” over and over, as if I actually understood the difference between “mam” and “pam.” I mean, he could’ve just said “pam pam pam pam pam pam pam.” Made no difference to me. Why waste time and throw “mam” in there?
Why? Because that was just the kind of sidekick Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy was. That’s why.
“T minus twenty seconds...”
Maybe they’d build a statue to honor us. Or even have a “Death of Speedy” polyvinyl-chloride special collector’s edition statuette for sale in the League of Big Justice Super Souvenir Gift Shop. They’d better at least retire my number.
“Here’s your number,” Pumpkin Pete had said to me at my orientation and handed me a Post-It with two digits scribbled on it.
“Twenty-six? What’s this for?”
“If you die, we retire it. Like baseball.”
“But no one dies in baseball.”
“I know,” Pumpkin Pete sighed. “That’s why it’s so boring.”
So that’s what I had to look forward to. Maybe a plastic toy and my yellow Post-It hanging on the wall in the new Planet Superhero restaurant, right next to Lipstick Lydia’s mascara brush.
Why didn’t I listen to my brother? Why didn’t I become Junior Assistant Florist?
“Just think, you can run around and hand out flowers,” he had told me.
“T minus fifteen seconds . . .”
Suddenly the large display screen clicked on and an enormous image of Peenoh Keeoh, filled the room.
“As you get sucked into space, King Justice, remember it was I, Peenoh Keeoh, who sent you there! That’s right! The little puppet with strings destroyed the greatest good the world has ever known! I, Peenoh Keeoh, destroyed King Justice! Chew on that, King! Hahahahahahaha...”
“He’s gone,” I said to the screen.
“Hahahahaha — what?” Peenoh Keeoh cut his laugh short with a choking cough. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“He left in an escape pod.”
“What!? When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed!?” Peenoh Keeoh turned his head and glared at his mind slave and then turned back to face me. “Then tell the rest of the pathetic League of Big Justice to step forward so they can look upon the face of their doom!”
“They all went with King Justice.”
“So who am I killing then? The Good Egg, perhaps? Please tell me at least Ms. Mime is still there?”
“Nope. Both gone. It’s just me and Boy-inthe-Plastic-Bubble Boy.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Peenoh Keeoh sighed and rubbed his pine forehead with his little wooden hand. “All I did was turn Ohio into puppets and kill a kid in a hamster ball and you!?”
“Well... technically ... Pumpkin Pete turned Ohio into puppets,” I corrected.
“Why do I even bother!?” Peenoh Keeoh moaned.
“Welcome to my life,” Depression Dave grumbled, leaning forward so I could finally see he was in the same escape pod as Peenoh Keeoh.
Then the screen went black.
“T minus ten...nine...eight...”
The saddest thing of all was that I had only nine more seconds to contemplate the love of my life: Prudence Cane. You couldn’t think about her enough in nine lifetimes, and there I was with less time than it took to drive Earlobe Lad crazy to consider all things Prudence.
Man, is life
“T minus thirty seconds...”
“MMAA PAM MAM PAM MAM!” Boy-in-the Plastic-Bubble Boy screamed as he banged his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice against the tiny doorway. I don’t know how the Brotherhood of Rottenness got him into this room, but there was no way he was getting out; not without a jackhammer and twenty pounds of butter.
“You won’t fit!” I shouted.
“Mmaa pam mam pam mam...?” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy whined.
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“T minus twenty-five seconds...”
So there I was, about to get sucked into space and . . . well ... you know ... and my last twenty seconds of life were being spent with a kid in a giant hamster ball who kept saying “Mmaa pam mam pam mam” over and over, as if I actually understood the difference between “mam” and “pam.” I mean, he could’ve just said “pam pam pam pam pam pam pam.” Made no difference to me. Why waste time and throw “mam” in there?
Why? Because that was just the kind of sidekick Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy was. That’s why.
“T minus twenty seconds...”
Maybe they’d build a statue to honor us. Or even have a “Death of Speedy” polyvinyl-chloride special collector’s edition statuette for sale in the League of Big Justice Super Souvenir Gift Shop. They’d better at least retire my number.
“Here’s your number,” Pumpkin Pete had said to me at my orientation and handed me a Post-It with two digits scribbled on it.
“Twenty-six? What’s this for?”
“If you die, we retire it. Like baseball.”
“But no one dies in baseball.”
“I know,” Pumpkin Pete sighed. “That’s why it’s so boring.”
So that’s what I had to look forward to. Maybe a plastic toy and my yellow Post-It hanging on the wall in the new Planet Superhero restaurant, right next to Lipstick Lydia’s mascara brush.
Why didn’t I listen to my brother? Why didn’t I become Junior Assistant Florist?
“Just think, you can run around and hand out flowers,” he had told me.
“T minus fifteen seconds . . .”
Suddenly the large display screen clicked on and an enormous image of Peenoh Keeoh, filled the room.
“As you get sucked into space, King Justice, remember it was I, Peenoh Keeoh, who sent you there! That’s right! The little puppet with strings destroyed the greatest good the world has ever known! I, Peenoh Keeoh, destroyed King Justice! Chew on that, King! Hahahahahahaha...”
“He’s gone,” I said to the screen.
“Hahahahaha — what?” Peenoh Keeoh cut his laugh short with a choking cough. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“He left in an escape pod.”
“What!? When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed!?” Peenoh Keeoh turned his head and glared at his mind slave and then turned back to face me. “Then tell the rest of the pathetic League of Big Justice to step forward so they can look upon the face of their doom!”
“They all went with King Justice.”
“So who am I killing then? The Good Egg, perhaps? Please tell me at least Ms. Mime is still there?”
“Nope. Both gone. It’s just me and Boy-inthe-Plastic-Bubble Boy.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Peenoh Keeoh sighed and rubbed his pine forehead with his little wooden hand. “All I did was turn Ohio into puppets and kill a kid in a hamster ball and you!?”
“Well... technically ... Pumpkin Pete turned Ohio into puppets,” I corrected.
“Why do I even bother!?” Peenoh Keeoh moaned.
“Welcome to my life,” Depression Dave grumbled, leaning forward so I could finally see he was in the same escape pod as Peenoh Keeoh.
Then the screen went black.
“T minus ten...nine...eight...”
The saddest thing of all was that I had only nine more seconds to contemplate the love of my life: Prudence Cane. You couldn’t think about her enough in nine lifetimes, and there I was with less time than it took to drive Earlobe Lad crazy to consider all things Prudence.
Man, is life
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