No. You're not a bad person. You're a terrific person. You're my favorite person. But every once in awhile... you can be a real cunt.
- Quentin Tarantino, Kill Bill

Chapter 1: "764"
In the old days, back when I loved Superman almost as much as I love Spider-Man now and I thought that all the great mysteries of life would be revealed to me in the complete works of Joe Kelly, I'd read Action Comics #764 anytime I got the feeling that Erin Tuttle was getting away from me.

I read that story a lot.

(It's okay. I can say that. Nobody reads this blog anymore.)

It's a nice little story entitled "Quiet After the Storm." It's about Lois and Clark having marital problems (because Lois has been abducted and replaced by a shapeshifting male supervillain, but that's neither here nor there), so Superman spends some time in Smallville with Ma and Pa Kent getting advice. And in the end, there's this beautiful scene where he grabs Lois and flies her to the Metropolis Air and Space Museum to the spaceship where they first met (long story) and he's set up all these candles and he gives her the tape recorder with which she first interviewed him and says "Maybe we could use it together. To talk. Interview each other about everything and anything. And maybe, somewhere on that tape... we can find us again." Of course, Lois doesn't go for it, (because again, she's been abducted and replaced by a shapeshifting male supervillain), but I always thought it was a lovely gesture anyway.

I mean sure, it's really cornball, but I love cornball. Always have. So when things went bad, I'd read that story and think... I don't know, cornball thoughts I guess. It was probably one of the biggest contributers to those seemingly life-altering conversations that in fact changed absolutely nothing we used to have on a weekly basis...

Anyway, I re-read Action Comics #764 last night for what must have been the first time in a couple of years -- we'll say on a lark. And I have to tell you, somehow, it felt all wrong.

Chapter 2: The Blood Splattered Bride
I rented Kill Bill Vol. One over the weekend. It was the first time I'd seen it since, well, the first time I'd seen it, and the repeat viewing only confirmed for me that Volume Two's the better film. Yes, Volume One's got the best fight scene, so if that's all you really expect from Kill Bill, that's the one to go with, but Volume Two's got everything else. It's in Volume Two that you realize that you're not really watching some nice, simple revenge flick that's been stylized to near perfection, but are in fact witnessing the conclusion to the tragic and twisted story of two lovers driven to the unseemly and grisly end of their affair because one of them betrayed the other in the worst possible way. And what's really great about it, at least to my mind, is that you're not entirely sure who betrayed whom.

Besides, Volume Two's funnier. And's it's got all the lines that are really worth remembering. What's Volume One got? "Wiggle your big toe"? "Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids"? Lame and lame, my friend.

And lest we forget, Volume Two's got BILL. Not BILL'S HAND or BILL IN SHADOW, but Bill. And in my humble opinion, Bill is the greatest villain we've seen in the 21st century (all George Bush jokes aside). I could watch David Carradine wander around and play that flute all day, but then again, I've always wanted to walk the earth and get in adventures like Caine from Kung Fu.

Chapter 3: The Origin of Prowler
I've got the first few issues of Prowler mapped out in my head for the most part. I'd tell you, but again, I'm afraid if I did that, it'd keep me from actually sitting down and writing them. And honestly, the only reason I haven't started writing them yet is that I still haven't decided on an opening sequence for the first issue. I'm toying with the idea of just starting at Hobie's house in Teaneck and this weird mutant paper boy for the Daily Bugle, but I'm also thinking about a flashback sequence depicting the terrible night eighteen months ago when Hobie last wore his costume.

I don't know. I'll work it out.

I'm concerned about my brainstorming thus far on this series, because for the most part, my story ideas involve me riffing on movies I've seen. "Ultimate Negro Team-Up" is my personal "Training Day." The thing where a telepath tries to get SHIELD security codes out of Hobie's mind while he's sleeping is my "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." And I'm thinking of introducing Batroc in a very "Bourne Identity" kind of way in which Hobie runs across this wiry Frenchman with amnesia and mad phat fighting skills, and helps him figure out who he really is, only to learn that he's Batroc the Leaper. I would probably never actually go through with this, but I really like the idea of the reader following Hobie and this mystery kung-fu frog as they run around Europe or something, and really getting them thinking that whoever this guy is, he's got to be the greatest spy of all time, only to learn that he's really the lamest Captain America villain of all time.

I've even come up with a Kill Bill inspired storyline. It opens with a blood-splattered Silver Sable brandishing a samurai sword, standing over a room full of horrifically maimed and brutally murdered agents of HYDRA screaming in German "Those of you lucky enough to still have your lives, take them with you. But leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me now." Then we jump cut to Hobie with his SHIELD liason learning that Silver -- the bounty hunter who Hobie used to work for as The Prowler -- was attacked and presumed killed but has resurfaced and is going on a kill-crazy rampage, slicing up HYDRA agents left and right, and setting her sights on the killer HYDRA hired to do her in, none other than Elektra Natchios. And Hobie sets out to stop Silver not out of the position that killing's wrong, but because if she actually faced Elektra in combat, Ms. Sable'd be taking a dirtnap, because don't let Jennifer Garner fool you -- Elektra's nobody's fool and an unstoppable killer.

It's a story I've tentatively titled either "Natchios Supreme" or "Natchios Bel Grande," and I think it'd really explore what motivates our young Mr. Brown. He's not really a black Peter Parker. Nobody told him that great power comes with great responsibility at a young age. In his first appearance, he lost his job and decided to become a supervillain because becoming a notable superhero would take longer. This is a guy whose head I wanna poke around.

...

So yeah. I've made the rather impractical decision of waiting to see what Marvel says before I actually go and look for a real job. Again, Brent says I can stay with him as long as I want, and I'm actually planning on paying the bills this time.

Chapter 4: The Girl from Teaneck, New Jersey
I was supposed to go back to Kansas City today because my mom needs a ride to the airport tomorrow. I took the days off of work and everything. Well, I talked to my mom yesterday, and it turns out that she was actually able to find someone who actually lives in Kansas City who was willing to give her a ride. Go figure.

Mom's going to visit my grandmother. She said she might pick up some souvenir out there and leave it in that house in Teaneck I'm supposed to go to someday soon.

And if she does that, maybe there will finally be something waiting for me out there...

Chapter 5: Showdown at Mushroom Kingdom Rainbow Cruise
It was suggested to me that I find some way to work through my depression other than drinking. It was also suggested that I stop drinking alone, but it's not my fault that all my roommates have denounced the demon rum and other distilled spirits, is it?

Anyway, in lieu of the simple joy of sipping some god awful Scotch in the privacy of my apartment this weekend, I thought back to what I used to do when the Black Swan of Melancholy used to perch on my shoulder before I popped my booze cherry, and I remembered the hours and hours of Smash Brothers it was my pleasure to play into the wee hours of the morning while My Beloved Tin-Tin tried to sleep before I'd re-read Action Comics #764 and call it a night.

So I played Smash Brothers Melee for about twelve hours this weekend. First, I faced Pikachu as Luigi in every stage the game had to offer. I won a few more matches than I lost. Then I came up with the great idea of fighting three Pikachus at once at 33 lives a piece -- which means that to win, I have to beat 99 of them.

Have you ever been hit by three lightning bolts by the same time? It's annoying as fuck.

I didn't win once.

In most cases, they beat me with 60 lives to spare among them. The closest I came to winning was at the Rainbow Cruise of the Mushroom Kingdom, where I actually managed to beat two of them -- or at least I managed to survive longer than two of them -- before the last little yellow rat bastard made short work of me.

I'd swear vengeance, but I've heard that revenge is never a straight line. It's a forest. And like a forest it's easy to lose your way...to get lost... to forget where you came in. And I'm lost enough as it is these days, because like the song says "it’s too late to say you’re sorry. (How would I know? Why should I care?) Please don’t bother trying to find her; she’s not there."

Or something like that.

TO BE CONTINUED...