Booming Narrator Voice: AT THE VAST HALL OF REPORTING ON MARVELS AND LEGENDS. . . !
Future Deadpool: What vast hall? This place is the size of a broom closet?
Cornelius Potfiller: I must concur. These accommodations are quite insufficient for a lively party. Where are the servants? Where are the candelabras?
UnCalvin: *very drunk* Isssh, a, a, a Super Friendsh reference. *belches* I think.
Clever Adolescent Panda: How would you know?
UnCalvin: *sleepy grin* When I get really drunk, my brain sinks to his level.
Cornelius: I say, you've drank the last of my Napoleon brandy!
UnCalvin: BURP!
CAP: Why are you drunk?
UnCalvin: Adversh reaction to Calvin being around lotsh of people drinking? Or maybe I'm depressed because I'm a genius, but I never accomplish the simple goal of destroying an imbecile's blog?
Future Deadpool: I'm pretty sure it's the second one. Otherwise, we'd have seen you drunk during all those other times you showed up when Calvin was off visiting his boozy friends.
UnCalvin: Thass right! *points emphatically with empty wine glass*
CAP: This is the worst celebration of the start of another year here at Reporting on Marvels and Legends ever.
Booming Narrator Voice: JUST THEN, CALVIN ARRIVES, CARRYING SUITCASES!
Calvin: *falls over clutching ears* Agh! What the hell was that?
Future Deadpool: It's the Booming Narrator Voice. I'm telling you because you can't see the stage direction-like form this event is written in.
Calvin: Of course. Now what are all of you doing here?
CAP: We came to celebrate the end of Year 8 here at the blog. But you didn't show up, so we went ahead and ate all the snacks, and drank all the wine.
Calvin: You drank wine? Are you old enough for that?
CAP: I can sip to be polite!
Calvin: If you say so.
CAP: Anyway, we figured you wouldn't miss this, so we waited. It's the start of year 9 now, but that's OK.
Calvin: Well that was nice of yo - oh. You brought Cornelius again?
Future Deadpool: He had the best food.
UnCalvin: And liquor! *passes out*
Calvin: What's UnCalvin's problem?
CAP: UnCalvin isn't satisfied with how life is going.
UnCalvin: *bolts upright* I'd be fine if you'd just die! *devours entire ham*
Cornelius: I expect to be reimbursed for those provisions, you ruffians.
Calvin: Don't hold you breath. *sees Future Deadpool eyeing can of baked beans* On second thought. . .
Cornelius: Bodily emanation humor?
Calvin: No fruit too low-hanging, that's the motto of this blog.
CAP: No it isn't!
Calvin: You're right, but sometimes I want to make crass jokes. It really has been another year, hasn't it? Well, I didn't get to those entries on my favorite Marvel and DC characters. And for the 7th consecutive year, I didn't start Spider-Man: Giant Slayer. UnCalvin might have some room on that failure train.
UnCalvin: *sing-song from corner of the room where UnCalvin sits sprawled* Too baaad! I bought up all the tickets!
CAP: Well, yeah, but you gave the readers more stories with me! And UnCalvin! And maybe Deadpool will start showing up next year.
Future Deadpool: And you felt like you posted less rushed, slapdash crap this year because you stopped being so worried about posting every day.
Calvin: That's true, but how do you know?
Future Deadpool: You tell me in a few weeks, whenever you get around to reviewing this month's issues of Deadpool.
Calvin: Speaking of which, my comics arrived. *opens box* Aw, damn it, he left out the Deadpool issues!
Future Deadpool: That's why I said a few weeks. Doesn't it fill you with murderous rage?
Calvin: Huh?
Future Deadpool: You know, it makes you angry, and you still have to Christmas shop, and then you could pay me to simplify that.
Calvin: Future Deadpool, I'm not paying you to kill the other people doing holiday shopping. I don't care what your timeline says I did.
Future Deadpool: I was just trying to help, while having fun killing people. It's the most fun we're allowed to have in the future.
UnCalvin: *drapes arm over Future Deadpool, slurs* You could help me with something. . .
Calvin: UnCalvin, I'm going to suggest you stop before you doing something you'll seriously regret when you wake up.
UnCalvin: *confused* What are you talking about? Oh. Oh, no, not that. I wanted him to beat you up. To raise my spirits.
Future Deadpool: I won't say I'm not hurt by how quickly you dismissed that, but sure!
UnCalvin: Really? Oh, this holiday is looking up.
CAP: Forget about it, Future 'Pool! I'll never let you - *cut off by a pie striking Future Deadpool in the face*
Calvin: *looks around, sees no one* Oh, is the Ghost of the Forest here? Awesome! Ghost, I haven't seen you in, well, ever, because you're invisible. We need to throw the frisbee around some! *Turns to CAP* You didn't tell me the Ghost was here.
CAP: *shrugs* I thought it left with Cassanee. She got bored after a few hours.
Future Deadpool: *scoops remains of pie off face, shovels them into mouth* I forgot how good pie was. Cyclops outlawed it in 2032, at the same time as dancing with your arms over your head.
Calvin: Truly, Cyclops is history's greatest monster.
Future Deadpool: Only when he's distracted by a redhead.
UnCalvin: I'm never going to see Calvin get beat up, am I?
Calvin: Hopefully not.
Booming Narrator Voice: INDEED, CALVIN WOULD NOT GET BEAT UP THIS NIGHT!
*everyone falls over*
Calvin: We need to find that guy and shut him up.
CAP: Agreed.
And maybe that'll be the next big story arc: Search for the Annoying Omniscient Narrator. Or maybe not. Probably not. Anyway, thanks for reading, and commenting, if you comment. As always, I'm a little surprised the blog's kept going this long, but I guess it's going to keep going for a while longer.
Showing posts with label cornelius potfiller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cornelius potfiller. Show all posts
Monday, December 16, 2013
Friday, November 29, 2013
I'd Have Been Better Off Shopping
Clever Adolescent Panda: I don't understand why we couldn't come for Thanksgiving yesterday.
UnCalvin: Because he doesn't want us around his family, obviously.
Future Deadpool: *lifts face out of the bowl of mashed potatoes* We do blow things up a lot. *notices everyone staring at him, looks at bowl of potatoes* That was rude of me. I should have put some on my plate instead.
UnCalvin: Quite. Now hand me the cranberries, please.
Clever Adolescent Panda: You aren't going to use them as explosives, are you?
UnCalvin: *snidely* I don't know, are you and your silent partner there going to destroy my business and push me to the brink of financial ruin over a gag gift?
Cassanee: I'm here to be polite. And eat.
Future Deadpool: I'll say. You can really pack it away! I love a girl that eats! Sorry, woman. Woman that eats. Here, have some liquefied chicken bones. it' what we eat since chickens are extinct.
Cassanee: *shuffles chair away from Future Deadpool*
Clever Adolescent Panda: How many times do I have to say "I'm sorry"?
Future Deadpool: In my time, we had a machine that took money from your account and gave it to the person you were talking to every time you said "sorry". Then our Xavier destroyed it because he said it was oppressing mutants. Really, he was mad I kept tricking him into bumping into me and apologizing for it. Then Future Molly made me eat my arms.
UnCalvin: *pushes away plate* Thank you, Wade.
Calvin: Yeah, Wade, swell.
Clever Adolescent Panda: *whispering* Why did you invite him?
Calvin: He said his team told him there were timeline disruptions that wouldn't let him return home with them.
Clever Adolescent Panda: They ditched him.
Calvin: Pretty much. I felt bad for him, so here we are.
UnCalvin: *loudly* What are you two plotting over there?
Calvin: We were deciding who had to tell you there's no pecan pie.
UnCalvin: *outraged* What?! How could you not have pecan pie? I specifically requested it!
Calvin: Then why didn't you buy one?
UnCalvin: I'm busy! I have employees, and new shareholders to find, thanks to someone *glares at the panda*
Clever Adolescent Panda: Oh, let it go already.
UnCalvin: *undeterred* You've been lazing about for weeks! You couldn't even go buy one at the store?
Cornelius Potfiller: I brought a pecan pie.
Calvin: Yeah right. I could barely move yesterday, which is why we're doing this now. And if I had gone store bought, you'd have complained about how lazy THAT was. "Why didn't you make a pie? I grew these fruits personally.' Who brings fruit to Thanksgiving? Even Future Deadpool brought appropriate fare!
UnCalvin: Pizza rolls?!
Calvin: They're rolls, aren't they?
Future Deadpool: I missed pizza rolls. We had to kill them all 15 years before I came here when Ringmaster and the Circus of Crime hypnotized them into sentience.
Cornelius Potfiller: I brought a pecan pie.
UnCalvin: *irritated* Well then where is it?
Cornelius Potfiller: Oh sorry, it's behind the centerpiece. I didn't realize you couldn't see it.
UnCalvin: Oh. *takes pie* Thank you.
Clever Adolescent Panda: How did you know to bring one?
Cornelius Potfiller: I caught my maid cooking it for her family's dinner, using my kitchen. SO I took and brought it along. Can you believe the nerve?
UnCalvin: *stops eating* What?
Clever Adolescent Panda: What?
Calvin: *facepalms*
Future Deadpool: I find that really hilarious, but recognize it's also in poor taste. Also, I'd like to stab you.
Cornelius: *nervous* What?
Calvin: *sighs* I don't need blood all over the place. Cornelius take all the food that's leftover, give it to the maid, apologize for taking her pie.
Cornelius: Now see here. . .
Calvin: Otherwise, it's an open question which one of these three will kill you first.
Cornelius: *resigned* Very well. *muttering* I should have gone to the club for brandy and cigars, rather than consort with this gutter trash.
Calvin: Look this is running really long already. Why doesn't everyone say what they're thankful for so we can wrap this up?
UnCalvin: But I'm having so much fun! Fine. I'm thankful for my boundless intellect and good looks, which will see me through any crisis brought about by your meddling.
Clever Adolescent Panda: I'm thankful for UnCalvin never giving up, because it's so much fun to wreck his life.
UnCalvin: *outraged again* What? Impudent scamp! *reaches for blaster*
Cassanee: I'm thankful I live far away from all of you. *swats blaster away, aided by turkey grease on UnCalvin's fingers. gun lands in mashed potatoes*
UnCalvin: Curses!
Cornelius: I'm thankful for the whiskey and cigars awaiting me at the club, where I may scoff at your paltry repast with my similarly wealthy friends.
Future Deadpool: I'm thankful to be in a place that has indoor plumbing and mashed potatoes that come with prizes. Check out this nifty ray gun!
Clever Adolescent Panda: They have time travel when you're from, but no indoor plumbing?
Future Deadpool: Turns out mutant governments aren't any better about spending to maintain infrastructure than human ones.
UnCalvin: Delightful. Give me back my ray gun!
Future Deadpool: OK, but only because I'm highly physically attracted to you. *tosses blaster to UnCalvin, casually smashes Cornelius in the face with the bowl of potatoes* You can shapeshift to look like Pyslocke, right?
UnCalvin: *looking very uncomfortable* Um, Calvin, what are you thankful for?
Calvin: Besides being thankful I don't bring all of you together more often? Well, there's someone I want to express thanks to I never thought I would.
UnCalvin: You've finally recognized I'm the only thing keeping your blog going?
Clever Adolescent Panda: Get real! I'm the one who moves the needle!
UnCalvin: Please! You stopped being a draw after Calvin stopped posting pictures of adorable baby pandas! And those weren't even you! I know you were using body doubles!
Cassanee: What?
Clever Adolescent Panda: It's not true! Besides, you can find cute panda pictures anywhere. I'm the only one that fights ogres and evil opposites!
Calvin: The panda's right, as far as I know.
UnCalvin: I've asked you not to use that term. "Evil opposite" is hurtful. I prefer "metaphysically reactive".
Cornelius: *still on the floor* Could someone call a physician? I believe the clout to my cranium has caused my humors to mix dangerously.
Clever Adolescent Panda: *ignores Cornelius* That term is nonsense!
UnCalvin: Your face is nonsense! *Clever Adolescent Panda leaps across the table and the two begin scuffling.*
Calvin: *sighs, rises from the chair, walks around, and helps Cornelius up* You'll be fine. I put all the food in Tupperware bowls just in case someone tried to use them as weapons.
Cassanee: So who were you going to thank?
Calvin: Deion Sanders. *UnCalvin and Clever Adolescent Panda stop fighting*
Clever Adolescent Panda: *takes UnCalvin's hair out of its mouth* Wait, really?
Calvin: Yeah. Last week they were talking about the NFL Hall of Fame ballot, and Deion mentioned former Cardinals' cornerback Aeneas Williams as a guy he thought deserved to be elected. I don't know if it'll make a difference, but it was nice to see Williams get some acknowledgement. I always worry he gets overlooked because he played for the Cardinals. And Michael Irvin even backed him up on it. So, you know, thanks for that, guys.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Are you sure you aren't UnCalvin in disguise?
UnCalvin: Imbecile. You're sitting on me.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Yeah, but Calvin thanking two guys who played for the Cowboys? Oh no, we're trapped in an awful mirror universe.
Calvin: If we were in a mirror universe, I would have cooked a pecan pie for UnCalvin, and it would have been delicious. Also, Future Deadpool wouldn't be hitting on UnCalvin.
Future Deadpool: Yeah, I'd be hitting on you. Aw, that's an unpleasant thought.
Cassanee: *pushes plate away* Agreed.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Yeah, that's not right Future Deadpool.
Cornelius: What foul sentiment! This is the most farcical eating I've attended in many months, and furthermore - *Future Deadpool punches Cornelius in the face*
Calvin: Yeah, I think we're done here.
Clever Adolescent Panda: You aren't going to thank your audience?
Calvin: Not for another two weeks or so.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Two weeks? Oh, the blogiversary! Great, I'll see you then! *starts to leave*
UnCalvin: I'll also be here, to class up the proceedings.
Future Deadpool: And I'll be here to chat you up when you get drunk and cry a lot!
UnCalvin: *chants mystic incantation, vanishes*
Calvin: Guys, that really isn't necessary.
Cassanee: I'll pass.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Don't be like that. It'll be fun! We can bring the Ghost of the Forest along, too!
Calvin: Hey, at least one of you could take Cornelius with you!
UnCalvin: Because he doesn't want us around his family, obviously.
Future Deadpool: *lifts face out of the bowl of mashed potatoes* We do blow things up a lot. *notices everyone staring at him, looks at bowl of potatoes* That was rude of me. I should have put some on my plate instead.
UnCalvin: Quite. Now hand me the cranberries, please.
Clever Adolescent Panda: You aren't going to use them as explosives, are you?
UnCalvin: *snidely* I don't know, are you and your silent partner there going to destroy my business and push me to the brink of financial ruin over a gag gift?
Cassanee: I'm here to be polite. And eat.
Future Deadpool: I'll say. You can really pack it away! I love a girl that eats! Sorry, woman. Woman that eats. Here, have some liquefied chicken bones. it' what we eat since chickens are extinct.
Cassanee: *shuffles chair away from Future Deadpool*
Clever Adolescent Panda: How many times do I have to say "I'm sorry"?
Future Deadpool: In my time, we had a machine that took money from your account and gave it to the person you were talking to every time you said "sorry". Then our Xavier destroyed it because he said it was oppressing mutants. Really, he was mad I kept tricking him into bumping into me and apologizing for it. Then Future Molly made me eat my arms.
UnCalvin: *pushes away plate* Thank you, Wade.
Calvin: Yeah, Wade, swell.
Clever Adolescent Panda: *whispering* Why did you invite him?
Calvin: He said his team told him there were timeline disruptions that wouldn't let him return home with them.
Clever Adolescent Panda: They ditched him.
Calvin: Pretty much. I felt bad for him, so here we are.
UnCalvin: *loudly* What are you two plotting over there?
Calvin: We were deciding who had to tell you there's no pecan pie.
UnCalvin: *outraged* What?! How could you not have pecan pie? I specifically requested it!
Calvin: Then why didn't you buy one?
UnCalvin: I'm busy! I have employees, and new shareholders to find, thanks to someone *glares at the panda*
Clever Adolescent Panda: Oh, let it go already.
UnCalvin: *undeterred* You've been lazing about for weeks! You couldn't even go buy one at the store?
Cornelius Potfiller: I brought a pecan pie.
Calvin: Yeah right. I could barely move yesterday, which is why we're doing this now. And if I had gone store bought, you'd have complained about how lazy THAT was. "Why didn't you make a pie? I grew these fruits personally.' Who brings fruit to Thanksgiving? Even Future Deadpool brought appropriate fare!
UnCalvin: Pizza rolls?!
Calvin: They're rolls, aren't they?
Future Deadpool: I missed pizza rolls. We had to kill them all 15 years before I came here when Ringmaster and the Circus of Crime hypnotized them into sentience.
Cornelius Potfiller: I brought a pecan pie.
UnCalvin: *irritated* Well then where is it?
Cornelius Potfiller: Oh sorry, it's behind the centerpiece. I didn't realize you couldn't see it.
UnCalvin: Oh. *takes pie* Thank you.
Clever Adolescent Panda: How did you know to bring one?
Cornelius Potfiller: I caught my maid cooking it for her family's dinner, using my kitchen. SO I took and brought it along. Can you believe the nerve?
UnCalvin: *stops eating* What?
Clever Adolescent Panda: What?
Calvin: *facepalms*
Future Deadpool: I find that really hilarious, but recognize it's also in poor taste. Also, I'd like to stab you.
Cornelius: *nervous* What?
Calvin: *sighs* I don't need blood all over the place. Cornelius take all the food that's leftover, give it to the maid, apologize for taking her pie.
Cornelius: Now see here. . .
Calvin: Otherwise, it's an open question which one of these three will kill you first.
Cornelius: *resigned* Very well. *muttering* I should have gone to the club for brandy and cigars, rather than consort with this gutter trash.
Calvin: Look this is running really long already. Why doesn't everyone say what they're thankful for so we can wrap this up?
UnCalvin: But I'm having so much fun! Fine. I'm thankful for my boundless intellect and good looks, which will see me through any crisis brought about by your meddling.
Clever Adolescent Panda: I'm thankful for UnCalvin never giving up, because it's so much fun to wreck his life.
UnCalvin: *outraged again* What? Impudent scamp! *reaches for blaster*
Cassanee: I'm thankful I live far away from all of you. *swats blaster away, aided by turkey grease on UnCalvin's fingers. gun lands in mashed potatoes*
UnCalvin: Curses!
Cornelius: I'm thankful for the whiskey and cigars awaiting me at the club, where I may scoff at your paltry repast with my similarly wealthy friends.
Future Deadpool: I'm thankful to be in a place that has indoor plumbing and mashed potatoes that come with prizes. Check out this nifty ray gun!
Clever Adolescent Panda: They have time travel when you're from, but no indoor plumbing?
Future Deadpool: Turns out mutant governments aren't any better about spending to maintain infrastructure than human ones.
UnCalvin: Delightful. Give me back my ray gun!
Future Deadpool: OK, but only because I'm highly physically attracted to you. *tosses blaster to UnCalvin, casually smashes Cornelius in the face with the bowl of potatoes* You can shapeshift to look like Pyslocke, right?
UnCalvin: *looking very uncomfortable* Um, Calvin, what are you thankful for?
Calvin: Besides being thankful I don't bring all of you together more often? Well, there's someone I want to express thanks to I never thought I would.
UnCalvin: You've finally recognized I'm the only thing keeping your blog going?
Clever Adolescent Panda: Get real! I'm the one who moves the needle!
UnCalvin: Please! You stopped being a draw after Calvin stopped posting pictures of adorable baby pandas! And those weren't even you! I know you were using body doubles!
Cassanee: What?
Clever Adolescent Panda: It's not true! Besides, you can find cute panda pictures anywhere. I'm the only one that fights ogres and evil opposites!
Calvin: The panda's right, as far as I know.
UnCalvin: I've asked you not to use that term. "Evil opposite" is hurtful. I prefer "metaphysically reactive".
Cornelius: *still on the floor* Could someone call a physician? I believe the clout to my cranium has caused my humors to mix dangerously.
Clever Adolescent Panda: *ignores Cornelius* That term is nonsense!
UnCalvin: Your face is nonsense! *Clever Adolescent Panda leaps across the table and the two begin scuffling.*
Calvin: *sighs, rises from the chair, walks around, and helps Cornelius up* You'll be fine. I put all the food in Tupperware bowls just in case someone tried to use them as weapons.
Cassanee: So who were you going to thank?
Calvin: Deion Sanders. *UnCalvin and Clever Adolescent Panda stop fighting*
Clever Adolescent Panda: *takes UnCalvin's hair out of its mouth* Wait, really?
Calvin: Yeah. Last week they were talking about the NFL Hall of Fame ballot, and Deion mentioned former Cardinals' cornerback Aeneas Williams as a guy he thought deserved to be elected. I don't know if it'll make a difference, but it was nice to see Williams get some acknowledgement. I always worry he gets overlooked because he played for the Cardinals. And Michael Irvin even backed him up on it. So, you know, thanks for that, guys.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Are you sure you aren't UnCalvin in disguise?
UnCalvin: Imbecile. You're sitting on me.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Yeah, but Calvin thanking two guys who played for the Cowboys? Oh no, we're trapped in an awful mirror universe.
Calvin: If we were in a mirror universe, I would have cooked a pecan pie for UnCalvin, and it would have been delicious. Also, Future Deadpool wouldn't be hitting on UnCalvin.
Future Deadpool: Yeah, I'd be hitting on you. Aw, that's an unpleasant thought.
Cassanee: *pushes plate away* Agreed.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Yeah, that's not right Future Deadpool.
Cornelius: What foul sentiment! This is the most farcical eating I've attended in many months, and furthermore - *Future Deadpool punches Cornelius in the face*
Calvin: Yeah, I think we're done here.
Clever Adolescent Panda: You aren't going to thank your audience?
Calvin: Not for another two weeks or so.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Two weeks? Oh, the blogiversary! Great, I'll see you then! *starts to leave*
UnCalvin: I'll also be here, to class up the proceedings.
Future Deadpool: And I'll be here to chat you up when you get drunk and cry a lot!
UnCalvin: *chants mystic incantation, vanishes*
Calvin: Guys, that really isn't necessary.
Cassanee: I'll pass.
Clever Adolescent Panda: Don't be like that. It'll be fun! We can bring the Ghost of the Forest along, too!
Calvin: Hey, at least one of you could take Cornelius with you!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Hellcat Continues To Drive Me Daffy
For the purposes of today's post, I'm not talking about Patsy Walker: Hellcat #5 being delayed until the second week in November. I'm only getting comics every two weeks anyway, so I guess a delay shouldn't matter as much now*. So no Cornelius Potfiller this time.
Cornelius Potfiller: How very cheeky of you, young man! To summon me forthwith by invoking the title of that delightful publication, only to inform me my services are not desired?
Calvin: Summon you? Are you a demon or something? If so, then begone! I banish then, by the power of Smith & Wesson! *levels handgun, pulls trigger*
Cornelius: I say, most unsporting! *Falls over*
Relax folks, I just hit him in the shoulder. He'll get the best treatment the 19th century had to offer. So he'll probably be missing an arm next time he appears. *rimshot* Was that rimshot worthy? Ah well, where was I? Right, Hellcat. See, I'm fairly convinced that Kathryn Immonen is driving at something with this series, and I'm think I'm going nuts chasing after it. I read #4, and say to myself "Gee, Ssayong's (the heir Patsy was sent to rescue) face looks kind of similar to Reuben's (Patsy's fashion major neighbor from #1). And she's struggling against the path her parents want for her, much like Reuben didn't follow his parents. Could Patsy be hallucinating this?"
Then I says to myself, "Didn't Patsy's mother try and turn her into the center of a money making empire, with the comics and various liscensed merchandise. And didn't I read in Essential Defenders Vol. 4 that Patsy got a bit tired of that**?" Also, the heir, who appears human, is dating a Yeti, which is a sort of monster. And Patsy was married to the Son of Satan (or Satannish, if you go by what Engelhart wrote, for whatever difference that makes). And the series makes references to Patsy's suicide, with the wolf calling her a "manslayer" and saying that her (Patsy's) people die in many ways, for many reasons. A short while later, Patsy stumbles across an SUV that sort of looks like the one she's driving***, and the wolf tells her it's her grave. Which is kind of odd since the SUV doesn't have the same paint job as the one she's in, and has a magazine she didn't have at the time (but a magazine that explains why she believes the map is actually a calendar).
Plus, there's something about the calendar (probably it calling her "sexy", and berating her when she removes her mask and it can actually see her face) that reminds me of the goofy guy she ran into at that bar in #1. The one that kept trying to come onto her, so she hit him with her mug? Which, if there was a connection, might explain his initial hostility upon her losing the mask. Then there's the guy who gave her the snowmobile ride, and also presented her with the SUV. He looks exactly the same, but he acts as though he doesn't know anything about a snowmobile ride, which is either him being a snarky jerk, or extremely significant. And that's pretty much where I'm at with this series right now, swinging between everything have importance, and none of it really meaning anything, I'm just reading my own idiosyncrasies into it.
* I'm not certain that's the response Marvel would want, but it's the one these verdammt delays are prompting.
** I don't have that particular tome with me at this time, so I can't confirm, but I know they went into Patsy's history after her mother died in that volume.
*** What this really makes me think is that maybe this isn't Patsy's first attempt at this quest. The witches said that all their roads lead back to their home now, thus they can't find their heir. So if everything leads back to where it started could Patsy have tried this before, died, and is trying again without realizing it?
Cornelius Potfiller: How very cheeky of you, young man! To summon me forthwith by invoking the title of that delightful publication, only to inform me my services are not desired?
Calvin: Summon you? Are you a demon or something? If so, then begone! I banish then, by the power of Smith & Wesson! *levels handgun, pulls trigger*
Cornelius: I say, most unsporting! *Falls over*
Relax folks, I just hit him in the shoulder. He'll get the best treatment the 19th century had to offer. So he'll probably be missing an arm next time he appears. *rimshot* Was that rimshot worthy? Ah well, where was I? Right, Hellcat. See, I'm fairly convinced that Kathryn Immonen is driving at something with this series, and I'm think I'm going nuts chasing after it. I read #4, and say to myself "Gee, Ssayong's (the heir Patsy was sent to rescue) face looks kind of similar to Reuben's (Patsy's fashion major neighbor from #1). And she's struggling against the path her parents want for her, much like Reuben didn't follow his parents. Could Patsy be hallucinating this?"
Then I says to myself, "Didn't Patsy's mother try and turn her into the center of a money making empire, with the comics and various liscensed merchandise. And didn't I read in Essential Defenders Vol. 4 that Patsy got a bit tired of that**?" Also, the heir, who appears human, is dating a Yeti, which is a sort of monster. And Patsy was married to the Son of Satan (or Satannish, if you go by what Engelhart wrote, for whatever difference that makes). And the series makes references to Patsy's suicide, with the wolf calling her a "manslayer" and saying that her (Patsy's) people die in many ways, for many reasons. A short while later, Patsy stumbles across an SUV that sort of looks like the one she's driving***, and the wolf tells her it's her grave. Which is kind of odd since the SUV doesn't have the same paint job as the one she's in, and has a magazine she didn't have at the time (but a magazine that explains why she believes the map is actually a calendar).
Plus, there's something about the calendar (probably it calling her "sexy", and berating her when she removes her mask and it can actually see her face) that reminds me of the goofy guy she ran into at that bar in #1. The one that kept trying to come onto her, so she hit him with her mug? Which, if there was a connection, might explain his initial hostility upon her losing the mask. Then there's the guy who gave her the snowmobile ride, and also presented her with the SUV. He looks exactly the same, but he acts as though he doesn't know anything about a snowmobile ride, which is either him being a snarky jerk, or extremely significant. And that's pretty much where I'm at with this series right now, swinging between everything have importance, and none of it really meaning anything, I'm just reading my own idiosyncrasies into it.
* I'm not certain that's the response Marvel would want, but it's the one these verdammt delays are prompting.
** I don't have that particular tome with me at this time, so I can't confirm, but I know they went into Patsy's history after her mother died in that volume.
*** What this really makes me think is that maybe this isn't Patsy's first attempt at this quest. The witches said that all their roads lead back to their home now, thus they can't find their heir. So if everything leads back to where it started could Patsy have tried this before, died, and is trying again without realizing it?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
What Manner Of Skylarking Has Permitted This To Occur?
Now, a brief word from the 19th Century's own Cornelius Potfiller:
Oh calamatations. This day finds me most vexed. I endeavored to inspect the electronic cataloging of illustrated stories being offered by the Timely/Atlas, oh pardon my error, the Marvel Publishing Company for the forthcoming month. It is a great enjoyment of mine to discern which serials, and how many, shall be available for my purchase each week. But woe and lamentations, my seekings found no evidence of the fourth chapter of the delightful Pasty Walker: Hellcat story listed for the 11th month of this year. This despite it having been solicited with various other (inferior, might I add) products for November several months. While I had accepted its absence in October due to there being no solicitation for that month, this was an unexpected conundrum. Where might the particular issue reside?
Further inspection revealed to me the issue emblazoned with the numeral our neighborhood sausage-maker refers to as "vier" would not arrive at my corner newstand until the eve of Christ's birth, rather than by my family's Day of Thanks, as I had hoped. Upon learning this, my visiage grew as red as the beard of the Irishman I cudgeled about the crainium this past weekend, after he made lewd comments towards a upstanding young lady with whom I had just attended the opening of A Trip To Chinatown. Truly, I was wroth, sending the housekeepers scurrying from my presence in terror. Then in my unrefined fury, I did hurl my Nana's favorite snow globe against the wall. Oh, catastrophe! This miscalculation, combined with the earlier bad news as to the multicolored novella, and with my butler Pittsley delivering the message that a shipment of silks I had planned to sell was hijacked by raiders in Manchuria, sent me into a state of severe melancholy.
Wait, what news is this? Reputable sources inform me that the hero known as the Ray has been observed performing admirably in service of Earth's defenders in another ongoing short story. That encouraging news fills me with new strength and resolve.
Herewith, I shall retain the services of Wilson Wadell, noted gun for hire, to reacquire my silks. It is a mark of my fine bearing that I hire him despite his face resembling uncooked meat which has been trampled beneath a carriage wheel, and that I instruct my servants to make no comments regarding his appearance until after he has departed the premises. Through the rear door, naturally. It would hardly be proper for those jabberwocks at the club to know I consort with a known scoundrel. Perhaps Wilson can resolve this interminable delay in the conclusion of the Hellcat story, without connecting his actions to me, of course. I believe I shall ruminate further on this with a sifter of cognac while I soak in my lithium vapor tub. That should help restore the vigor this chilling drizzle has stolen from my bones. Then, with my mood improved, perhaps I shall adorn my spats and bowler hat, and amble down the promenade, giving silver dollars to the street urchins. *pause* Oh ho ho! A pity the fellows from the club were not present to hear that jest. The merriment would have grown exponentially.
Current Day CalvinPitt: Isn't he great? Give him a big hand. Or, alternatively, throw things at him. I really don't care which, just watch out for his primary housekeeper. She's pretty accurate when it comes to throwing cooking implements from up to a furlong away (her spectacles double a telescopes).
Oh calamatations. This day finds me most vexed. I endeavored to inspect the electronic cataloging of illustrated stories being offered by the Timely/Atlas, oh pardon my error, the Marvel Publishing Company for the forthcoming month. It is a great enjoyment of mine to discern which serials, and how many, shall be available for my purchase each week. But woe and lamentations, my seekings found no evidence of the fourth chapter of the delightful Pasty Walker: Hellcat story listed for the 11th month of this year. This despite it having been solicited with various other (inferior, might I add) products for November several months. While I had accepted its absence in October due to there being no solicitation for that month, this was an unexpected conundrum. Where might the particular issue reside?
Further inspection revealed to me the issue emblazoned with the numeral our neighborhood sausage-maker refers to as "vier" would not arrive at my corner newstand until the eve of Christ's birth, rather than by my family's Day of Thanks, as I had hoped. Upon learning this, my visiage grew as red as the beard of the Irishman I cudgeled about the crainium this past weekend, after he made lewd comments towards a upstanding young lady with whom I had just attended the opening of A Trip To Chinatown. Truly, I was wroth, sending the housekeepers scurrying from my presence in terror. Then in my unrefined fury, I did hurl my Nana's favorite snow globe against the wall. Oh, catastrophe! This miscalculation, combined with the earlier bad news as to the multicolored novella, and with my butler Pittsley delivering the message that a shipment of silks I had planned to sell was hijacked by raiders in Manchuria, sent me into a state of severe melancholy.
Wait, what news is this? Reputable sources inform me that the hero known as the Ray has been observed performing admirably in service of Earth's defenders in another ongoing short story. That encouraging news fills me with new strength and resolve.
Herewith, I shall retain the services of Wilson Wadell, noted gun for hire, to reacquire my silks. It is a mark of my fine bearing that I hire him despite his face resembling uncooked meat which has been trampled beneath a carriage wheel, and that I instruct my servants to make no comments regarding his appearance until after he has departed the premises. Through the rear door, naturally. It would hardly be proper for those jabberwocks at the club to know I consort with a known scoundrel. Perhaps Wilson can resolve this interminable delay in the conclusion of the Hellcat story, without connecting his actions to me, of course. I believe I shall ruminate further on this with a sifter of cognac while I soak in my lithium vapor tub. That should help restore the vigor this chilling drizzle has stolen from my bones. Then, with my mood improved, perhaps I shall adorn my spats and bowler hat, and amble down the promenade, giving silver dollars to the street urchins. *pause* Oh ho ho! A pity the fellows from the club were not present to hear that jest. The merriment would have grown exponentially.
Current Day CalvinPitt: Isn't he great? Give him a big hand. Or, alternatively, throw things at him. I really don't care which, just watch out for his primary housekeeper. She's pretty accurate when it comes to throwing cooking implements from up to a furlong away (her spectacles double a telescopes).
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