And so it came to be, McGruff the Crime Dog™ known for taking a bite out of crime had fallen out of favor and out of a job. Representing crime prevention was a sweetheart deal, and with it, came a healthy lifestyle that unemployment was not going to support.
Clark Kent/Superman showing off, as usual.
Let me make this perfectly clear. Superman is a big hunk of bunk. He is a bogus piece of garbage foreigner from the planet Krypton, the worst kind. He goes around and tells everyone that will listen that the reason he adopted a secret identity was to honor his Earth parents, Ma and Pa Kent.
Casper the friendly ghost was not living up to his name. He was still Casper, still a ghost, but not so much with the friendly. He would better be described as despondent, introspective, gothic, but not in the fashionable sense, but in the emotional state, and blubbering like a roomful of mourners. Today, he fully realized the meaning of R.E.M.’s song, “Everybody Hurts”. This is the power of truth.
It was Christmas in Gotham City. Batman crawled out of a sewer covered with who knows what. He was ripe. He needed a two-day shower. He muttered, “Shit always happens on Christmas.” He knew the rules of vigilantism. Crime never takes a holiday. Crime never acknowledges the calendar. He knew that was wrong. There’s the Calendar Man.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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