There was a sublime calm in Bedrock this afternoon, an overwhelming sinister silence, which could not be penetrated. It smelled like aftermath. Like elegance unraveled, Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble stood beside a lifeless The Great Gazoo. Here’s something you only discover after it’s far too late: a Zetoxian’s green flesh turns to the color of human flesh when viciously deprived of oxygen. After all, it’s one thing to kill a green alien, and it’s another thing to kill your fellow man, as chronicled in the tragic episode, “The Jeffersons Move On Up To Bedrock.”
A touring American tenor arrived in a small Japanese village. He claimed to be the greatest singer in the entire world. His mission was simple: to grace the villagers with his beautiful voice, in return for a meal fit for a king. Before proceeding further, it is imperative to point out that Japan does not accept such boastful words without merit, it needs to be earned, backed up. In short, prove it or lose it. With this, a competition was decreed to prove once and for all, who had the best singing voice.
Batman sat behind the disturbingly large computer screen, his cowl draped behind his head blending into his cape. This was when he was most at ease, the rare moment of openly being both Batman and Bruce Wayne, watching over his city in the way God may look down on Earth, or a peeping Tom gazing into the biggest window. Even though it was Christmas, he was ever vigilant, for crime never acknowledges religious holidays.
Aquaman® was beside himself. He was absolutely pissed. It was supposed to be his day of serious rest and relaxation. Instead, taking the advice of his main man, Vulko®, he found himself speechifying in front of a small group of mollusks, assorted crustaceans, and starfish in order to strengthen support from all of his subjects. There had been a great divide after an offhand ichthyologist joke he made in an interview with robot Lester Holt®. All because of an offhand pun about sea anemones, enemies, and frenemies. It was a rhyme. It was cute. He didn’t mean it. In short, Karma® sucks. Apologizing wasn’t enough, so now he was on this tedious spin tour. Keep in mind, he was the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, thus it was reflective in his body language. He took the stance of a vegetarian at a meat festival behind the podium, hunched over and anxious. It was painfully obvious that he had better things to do.