ASPECT: Silver Surfer Pt. 3
By feebadger 2 Comments
The rituals became commonplace after that.
Over the days and weeks that followed we returned to our lives, my people and I back to our dry and desolate fields, The Pious and their disciples back to the temple of Kaan. Yet, every few days we, all of us would hear the call of the herald and we would return to the great city, all of us equal on bended knee as we would direct our great moans of prayer to our silver conductor and through him, we would sear the heavens with our power. Each time, that all encompassing groan would be returned from the heavens, like a great cosmic birthing and then, the silence. Then, we would sleep, my people, the silver one, a deep, exhausted sleep that would last for hours and when we were done we would again stand and, one by one return to our lives. The silver one would be gone, each time we awoke and none of us saw fit to ask where or why, not even The Pious having the tongue to query the motives of a god.
So, imagine my surprise when, on a day where the ground turned in a particularly stubborn manner and the goats refused the most cursory of approaches, I saw, reaching from the horizon toward me a beam of brilliant light. Upon it stood the silver stranger, his arms crossed behind his back, surveying all around him with a casual manner reserved for those forged from the heavens. He landed some distance from me, the light splashing and evaporating at his feet as he did so and I trembled at the sight. There he stood, a statue of resplendent glory and after some time had past, I slowly approached. He made not a gesture that whole time, his eyes scanning some unseen horizon away from me, his body motionless. Not knowing what to say, I stopped before reaching him and as my mouth dried and spluttered, searching for words in my fear, he spoke.
“You are not much of a farmer.”
His voice, though still imbued with an unseen power sighed from him, deep and resonant. I felt calmed instantly, his comment bereft of mockery or accusation. I explained to him of how the land had dried beneath us and of how it once had stood as a great jewel in this universe, a testament to nature. He turned his gaze downward and with measured poise, knelt down and took up a handful of dust in his mirrored palm.
“This land is dead.”
I reiterated how it had once nurtured life in all its forms, yet he did not seem to hear.
“You fail to understand my meaning. This land has been drained of all energy. It is dead… without life. Nothing will grow here. Your efforts are futile.”
I felt my heart fade into darkness. Long had my people believed it to be true, but now hearing it come from the mouth of a god, I felt numb. I asked of how such a thing could have come to pass, yet he did not answer and for many long moments, he stared at me as if weighing up the very measure of my soul.
“I have seen you at the sermon, previously… I have seen… all your people there but you… You are not like the others. Your spirit spoke out to me and I heard it. It told me that you are a leader and that leaders are to be feared or respected. I have come here to see for myself which.”
I felt the icy hand of death on my shoulder. Surely there had been some kind of misunderstanding! Never in my life had I assumed a position of power, not in politics nor on my land and if indeed I were destined to serve my people it would be here, in service to nature. Yet, there was a restlessness in me, a growing dissatisfaction that had gnawed at my bones for year upon year. I had thought it well hidden from even my beloved Learre, yet perhaps this stranger had seen something I had not wished shown. Perhaps he recognized in me something I refused to recognize in my self… but, no. It could not be. I beseeched him that he had the wrong person and that if one such as I were to lead, then we were all doomed as I had not even the power to stem the sickness that had fallen upon my wife, my love.
“She burns with fever.” He said, his ashen gaze falling upon the small hut that we called home and which my wife lay within. “I can feel her from here. What ails her?”
I told her of how my people, the tribes of Iguaam were connected to this land, of how we drew our very lifeblood, our very spirit from the earth. Now that the earth had been made barren by divine providence or random curse, my people had been cut off from their birthright, their very spirit and had begun to die. The fever was the first stage of sickness, but we all knew that death rode upon its promise. So many had passed already and I told of how it now held the hand of my dear Learre and how I, myself would not have to wait long to face the same fate.
Again, the silver stranger stood, seemingly an eternity in silence, seemingly unmoved by my words. His eyes pierced the exterior of my home yet his face remained unmoved, his body still as the ground beneath it. I asked… lord help me, I asked of a god whether he had loved ones, ones for which he would die and as the words left my mouth, I felt instant regret for having presumed so much. It was a flicker at first, a glimmer of emotion across his face and if I were more presumptuous I would assume that anger had sparked in him. His brow tightened, his body crackled with energy and his muscles clenched as if fighting against some unseen force. He placed his hand to his temple and swayed a moment, as if about to faint and fearing what else to do, I placed my trembling hands out and steadied him…my trembling hands upon a god.
“I… do not remember…”
His voice was soft, almost broken under the weight of thought and when he turned his face to meet mine it was wracked with pain… sadness the like of which I had never seen. He placed his argent hand upon mine and corrected himself, pulling his body upright, back into the straightened posture I had become accustomed to, yet the weight he bore now was evident. He looked back to me once and spoke, his voice regaining its former power, yet still frail from my prying.
“Be sure that Learre is at the next sermon. You, also, of course, but be sure to bring her.”
He turned away and composed himself a moment, a pool of light spreading out before his feet and as it lifted him back up into the sky, toward the Temple of Kaan I heard his parting words drift toward me on the still evening air,
“You are not much of a farmer, Turra.”
He had called me by name. A god knew my name.
ASPECT: Silver Surfer Pt. 2
By feebadger 2 Comments
So great was the power of this Silver herald, that change swept across the city, almost instantaneously. He beckoned for us to pray, to kneel and give our worship to the great and terrible God who ruled him and with nary a question of concern, my people dropped to their knees before the temple of Kaan and prayed to a different God. Though shamed, I too found myself deep in prayer, my eyes weeping at the heresy, while my mind wandered to the image of our lost and great forefather.
Legend told that when Regal Kaan fell to earth, it was as a criminal.
Once held in the confines of the Gods, Kaan had been the first to tire of their rule, to scrutinize their ways and was also the first soul to break his bonds and escape the heavens. The stories say that he fell from grace here, on my world, which over time came to be known as Iguaam, my peoples’ word for freedom. At the centre of this new world, Kaan put his back to building the great city that would become his namesake. The city of Kaan stood as a testament to his refusal of slavery and it was from his seed that my people came to be. We believed ourselves to be possessed of the same strength of back that he had used to build his great testament and we put ours to work too. We, my ancestors and I tilled the land, brought life from dust and turned what was once dry and harsh into something that the Gods would envy. From the cities borders, great fields of green spread forth, acre upon acre of wild vegetation, lush fruit trees and livestock flecked the land as far as the horizon and as wide as the eye could see. We were a proud and bountiful people and from the borders of our home, our great and proud city that our forefather had left us, we surveyed our land like a parent would a child.
Then, The Pious came.
From the Blacklands of the East they came, dressed in the garb of the Prophet and the Soothsayer, claiming to carry with them the lost words of our long since past founder. They used these words to build around us a construct we had never thought to need; religion. Their words were powerful, if not entirely convincing and through their cunning use of them they grew in power. Using the faith of their new followers, they exploited them to build a mighty cathedral in the heart of Kaan. For many a year we, the people laboured upon it as The Pious oversaw our every move and in the end we had constructed a temple the likes of which the universe had never seen. Great was our pride.
Yet, briefly did it last.
Used up of our purpose, we were cast from the hallowed halls of Kaan, out into the fields beyond to live and work for the rest of our days. The Pious decreed the city to be a holy place, and in our exile, we felt a sense of peace that at least our exile had been made into such a place of beauty by our own hands. We were provided for by the livestock, the abundance of produce and perhaps in these lands, we thought we could have made a future for ourselves there.
Yet this too did not last.
For as the weeks stretched into years, we saw the green of our surroundings turn to ruin. The earth dried beneath our feet and where once great trees grew and flowers carpeted the earth, now only dust remained. The animals, great herds of horses and wildlife fell to darkness, their remains scattered across as fields turned to desert. Our eyes turned back to the city of Kaan, still resplendent while bordered by our misery. It seemed that as our lands dried, the temple that our backs had raised grew ever brighter, as if it were drawing the very goodness from our earth and turning its energies into power for The Pious.
Now, those very same prophets of darkness clambered after a new god, fawning at his heels as his power drove us to a depth of prayer we had never imagined. It was there, at our deepest moment of faith, consumed by the power of this new prophet of light that we began to understand the reality of our plight. For as we chanted as one, our voices thrumming with power, this… this silver serf showed us what true power was.
“BEHOLD!” he cried, his voice crackling with pure energy, his body alight, reflecting the sky above him, the stars pulsing and seeming to move of their own accord, “I have promised you salvation! I have promised you the grace of a brilliant and terrible God! You have bowed before this promise and on bended knee, you have given him your servitude, your very souls! And now… NOW I will show you your faith returned! Your souls revealed! See with your own eyes, your faith made manifest!”
Then we saw as our very words seemed to gain form, spilling from our mouths, a great light emanating from our very skins. Our hearts ached, fit to burst as if all the songs of our ancestors were rushing to find voice through our very spirits all at once. Tears streaked our faces as we saw our prayers turned to incandescent light, rising above us and swelling over our heads, like a great flower waiting to bloom. We prayed harder, our argent prophet rising ever higher before us as if surfing on a beam of light, corralling our energies and inciting us on with his words.
“Long has my God traveled the breadth of this great universe, and long has he sustained himself off the faith of his people! Now you, you who have toiled so long are amongst that flock and now, in his moment of need, feed your god with your faith! Let your prayers, your words, your very SOULS be the nourishment that he needs!”
And with an almighty howl, he clapped his hands together and from our very bodies the light thrust upwards, a crackling, breathing tower of living fire that burnt through the sky and pierced the blackness beyond. We saw as the stars swirled around our column of light, drawn by its power and smashing against the force of its current. The heavens themselves bent to the fury of our prayer and we stared in awe as the herald threw his head back in pure, exalted joy and screamed into the cosmos beyond.
It was then that we heard it, like an almighty groan from the great beyond. It was the sound of a God, a noise unlike any we have ever heard and in that moment, we knew true fear. It filled the air about us, the towers o f Kaan trembling as this great groan grew to bone shattering intensity. It was the sound of a God satiated. We screamed, as one people and just as soon as it had started, the noise, the light, the prayer… stopped.
Exhausted, we fell against one another, our prone bodies strewn across one another. I fought against the weariness which filled my bones and as I looked one last time to the skies I saw our silver savior fall, floating to the ground in a cocoon of light. As consciousness left us both, our eyes locked for a second and in that moment, he smiled at me.
And as Kaan is my witness, I tell you this… I smiled back.
ASPECT: The INFLAMMABLE Ant Man Pt. 6
By feebadger 1 Comments
D: So, Ant Man, let’s talk about your childhood.
A: Well, I was born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
D: Seriously, what was your childhood like?
A: Structured. You, know, it’s very hard to stand out when you’re part of a colony.
D: So, how do you stand out in an ant colony?
A: You get stepped on, mainly. That really makes you stand out from the crowd. I did have a near death experience once.
D: Really? What happened?
A: I was attacked by Satan.
D: Really. And what did Satan look like?
A: Alfred E. Newman. He had a giant glass eye and he was shooting hell rays at me from it.
D: Hmm. You sure it wasn’t a kid with a magnifying glass.
A: Nah, Satan’s giant glass eye of firey death it was.
D: So, how did you survive?
A: From Satans’ Giant Glass Eye Of Firey Death?
D: Siiigh… Yes.
A: Mighty Dave saved me.
D: Mighty Dave? Why was he called that?
A: Because he once lifted a corn kernel RIGHT above his head.
D: Uh…
A: Ants, remember?
D: OH! Well, then, that’s very impressive!
A: He was a hell of an ant, Mighty Dave. Just when it seemed like I was for the grill, he leapt into the light of Satans’ Giant Glass Eye Of Firey Death and pushed me to safety. Saved my life, he did.
D: And what happened to Mighty Dave?
A: Well, he was never the same after that incident really.
D: How so?
A: Well, he was dead. Tends to change a persons outlook on life some.
D: Indeed. Why don’t you tell me about your mother. What did she do?
A: She was an professional gymnast.
D: Really?
A: Yeah. She competed in the Antlympics once. Even won a medal.
D: Which one did she win?
A: Tin.
D: Oh.
A: The runner up won a very small piece of biscuit.
D: And what did third place get?
A: A one way ticket to hell.
D: Wow, tough judges.
A: Never f#@k with an ant, Doc.
D: So, what did your father do?
A: He worked at the string factory.
D: The string factory? What did that involve?
A: Well, every time a member of the colony would find a piece of string, they would take it to the string factory. There, our greatest ant scientists would tie them together, making an ever longer piece of string in preparation for… THE GREAT ESCAPE!
D The Great Escape? What’s that?
A: When that length of string reaches the required length, Doc, we’re going to hang it off the edge of this planet and SWING back to our home planet and FREEDOM!
D: I… I never dreamt…
A: We’re not meant to be here, Doc. All ants know that it was just a monumental mistake that we ended up on this planet and that one day soon we’re destined to return to our own.
D: And what’s that planet called?
A: Earth.
D: But… But you’re on earth?
A: WHAT!? Well why didn’t anyone tell us ants!? We’ve been trying to find this place for EVER!
D: Sorry.
A: Have you seen how long the piece of string is!?
D: No, how long?
A: Well… not very, but my dad went through years of rope burn to put that string together! He couldn’t even look at a yo-yo by the end!
D: Well, I’m sorry, but haven’t you ever seen an atlas?
A: I’M AN ANT! The only contact I have with books is trying to avoid them falling on me!
D: Of course, of course. Look, I’m sorry.
A: Aaah, it’s alright. Was probably a stupid idea anyway.
D: Do you miss your folks?
A: I didn’t miss them enough! I was the one who stepped on them, remember?
D: Oh. Right. But, I mean, do you wish they were still here?
A: Oh Doc. They’re always near. Everywhere I go, there’s always a little part of them that goes there with me… on the sole of my shoe mainly. Here, look!
D: I’m afraid our time is up.
A: Thanks, Doc.
D: Pleasure, Ant Man.
PREVIOUS: The INCANDESCENT Ant Man - Team Ups
ASPECT COMICS
By feebadger 27 Comments
Aspect is my own little fan fic comic company. It consists of… uh.. me and it is my work. It functions (at the moment) on the basic principle of taking an existing character and extrapolating an element of it, an aspect that i think defines the character if you will and making it my own. So we’re basically talking reinvention here, my spin, my version of characters that I love and that I find interesting.
Aspect is also a calling card. If you like one series, then maybe you’ll like another I’ve done. So all you have to do is look in the fan fic forum and if you see ASPECT before a story, then you know it’s done by me and maybe you’ll want to give it a try.
There are going to be many different types of stories, tonally and thematically. Currently posted are the following series;
SILVER SURFER
ANT MAN
The INFLAMMABLE ANT MAN (FINAL)
WONDER WOMAN
SCARECROW
THE INHUMANS
ECLIPSO - Black Sun
They are as different in tone and structure as can be, but i have absolute faith that you will enjoy them all.
I am really looking forward to the stories to come and I will be continually keeping you posted on what's coming up in this thread. Perhaps in the future I can expand Aspect to include other writers and, possibly even artists who share my views, but for now it’s just me.
I hope you enjoy Aspect. Let me know what you think.
ASPECT: Silver Surfer Pt. 1
By feebadger 4 Comments
We saw the sliver of light cut through the heavens before he landed.
It was as if a knife had been carved through the night sky itself and when that arrow of light hit the great city of Kaan, it exploded in a silent shower of brilliance. It caused no destruction nor did it cause alarm, yet it was as if a wave of serenity emanated from it and it was this, which called to my people.
We staggered and stumbled, drawn by its power to the center of the city, simple farm folk most, like myself, who had never stepped foot within the hallowed streets and alleyways of the great Kaan. Yet, none could resist its call now as there, on the steps of the great cathedral, built to the great architect, Regal Kaan himself stood the figure of a man who had come from the stars.
Of course, he was more than simply a man. His skin shone like that of the waters surface, mercurial and luminous, his torso draped in the finery of some unseen priesthood, the hem written in arcane letters. He glowed, like a star made flesh and when he spoke, it resonated, as if reaching to the furthest reaches of our world and into the deepest recesses of our souls.
“The universe is without emotion.” He began, his arms outstretched to the crowd before him, “It does not care to feel.”
“In its myriad and infinite glory, it has no time to wonder on the existence of those that it has created, does not have time to witness their minor miracles, their tiny feats when it has the very task of creation itself at hand. Life, in all its myriad concepts is nothing but the residue of its design. Driven by an endless appetite to propagate itself, the universe is an unconquered army, its reach stretching to the infinite and its desire pushing it ever onward. Yet, it is not without awareness and sometimes, in looking back, it is conscious of a need to provide for those it has sired and for those it has left behind.”
He spoke of us, the forgotten people of the wastelands; the farmers, the tillers and herdsmen who fought daily against famine and soul crushing labour. Learre, my wife and life mate held tight to my hand as he spoke, tears welling in both our eyes as this strangers words cut us deep.
“Devoid of emotion itself, the universe created great monoliths of power to stand as connections between life and its creator. Conduits for experience, objects of compassion, fear and understanding.
That is why it created the Gods.”
The Pious, the exalted leaders of the Church of Kaan mumbled and muttered to themselves loudly, their sensibilities and faith attacked by the appearance of this interloper. Yet not one raised a word in objection, caught as they were in the power of his words.
“Perhaps, these Gods were ultimately the creation of a careless parent looking to provide for its children whilst in absence. Yet these great and mighty Gods traversed the cosmos, their powers dwarfing the imagination of the life forms they found, whilst in turn being dwarfed themselves by the omnipotent power that sent them forth.
They have been given names over time, these Gods, christened by the children they found snapping at their heels.
Eternity. Death. Infinity. Oblivion.
Like using a candle to try and define the sun, these are but some of the names created to describe these deities, these titans.
Yet… there was one who defied description. “
As he spoke these words, the silver stranger rose before us, the light emanating ever brighter as he lifted his very form into the sky before us. An angel of light, I held Learre close to me, fearing that the very light itself would burn us into shadow. Yet, it did not and his words continued, satiating the soul and bringing all in its presence back to him and his sermon.
“Legend grew of this most elusive of Gods, whispers speaking of how the other titans feared Him, of how even the sentient soul of the universe itself trembled at His very mention. Life forms across the breadth of this universe spoke in hushed whispers of His terrible wrath, whilst exalting His divine benevolence. A truly caring God, capable of terrible anger, creator of sublime love. So few have truly seen Him, yet all have felt Him. In the trembling of hands held to the sky in repentance, in the singing of odes to the almighty saviour and in the telling of tales, both reverential and damning of all that is cast before Him.”
And then he reached out his hand, his finger pointed into the crowd and in that moment it felt as if he gestured to me and me alone. Later we would find that every being, every person in the crowd felt that very sensation, of a voice, a motion calling to only them. Yet at the time I knew… the words he spoke were to me and me alone.
“You have felt His presence as you toiled, laboured to pull life from dead soil. You have felt His love in moments of despair and hoped for Him to reveal himself. I know of such things. I know of your struggles. I know of your pain.
And I am here to relieve you of your burdens.”
The spell had been cast. Whatever influence he had spread with his words were now etched into our very beings. Powerless, we stood, such simple people before such divinity and in that moment of closing our eyes and raising our hands to him, we gave ourselves over completely and absolutely.
“I am the creator of hope
I am the prophet of the great titan.
I am His herald.
And I bring salvation to you all.”
ASPECT: The INCANDESCENT Ant Man Pt. 5
By feebadger 3 Comments
D: Ant Man, are you alright?
A: Yes.
D: Are you sure? You don’t look too happy.
A: I’m fine. Leave me alone.
D: Is that a black eye?
A: Maybe.
D: Look, this will be much easier if you just talk to me. You’re acting like a child.
A: YOU are.
D: Ant Man…
A: Alright, alright… I think I might have had a “team up.”
D: What is that? Like a euphemism for sex?
A: No. If I was using a euphemism for sex I would I have said, “I just put Moondragon through the Siege Perilous.”
D: So what does having a team up involve then?
A: Getting punched in the face mainly.
D: I see. Care to explain what happened?
A: Well, I was walking over here this morning when I bumped into an old hero buddy of mine, Beetle Bomb.
D: Beetle Bomb?
A: Yes. He is the size of a Beetle and when he gets really angry he EXPLODES!
D: But, wouldn’t that kill him?
A: Don’t know. He’s never really gotten that angry. He’s also a Buddhist you see, though personally, I think he’s medicated up to his eyeballs.
D: I know the type well.
A: ShhYEAH! So, anyway, I see him walking down the street toward me and I wave and say hi, you know, being friendly and all due to us both being on the same super team once.
D: And what team was that.
A: We were called The Little League. It was myself, Beetle Bomb, Short Arse and Micro Lad.
D: What was Micro Lads’ power?
A: He had incredibly small genitalia. We were a hell of a team too until the Short Persons Association shut us down. Said our name was “sizeist.” Sizest, I said, have you seen inside Micro Lads shorts!?
D: And what did they say?
A: Nothing. Just hit us with a rolled up newspaper.
D: Nice.
A: So I’m waving hello to Beetle Bomb when he suddenly jumps on top of me and starts letting fly with the ol’ left and right. Plowing into me he was, like Tony Stark on payday.
D: But why?
A: Turns out he’s gone ‘villain’. Said he’d had enough of people pushing him around and making fun of his powers. Said that no one believed that he could actually make himself explode due to the fact that it had never actually happened.
D: My god! So, how did you get out of there?
A: He exploded.
D: WHAT!?!
A: Yeah. Got himself worked up so much that he went off like the fourth of July. This ain’t tomato sauce on my top, Doc.
D: My god.
A: I know. Turns out he did have that power after all.
D: I guess so.
A: Don’t know if it’ll ever appear in Marvel Two In One, but it was a hell of an experience.
D: I’ll say! So, are you planning anymore of these ‘team ups’ in the future?
A: Well, I was hoping to get a job working with Tigra one day.
D: As what?
A: A flea.
D: I’m afraid our time is up.
A: Thanks, Doc.
D: Pleasure, Ant Man.
PREVIOUS - The INCONTINENT Ant Man - Villains
ASPECT: The INCONTINENT Ant Man Pt. 4
By feebadger 1 Comments
D: So, Ant Man, how do you think the therapy is going so far?
A: I’m not in a strait jacket yet, so I’d have to say fine.
D: So, I assume that would mean that you think things are going well then?
A: Yeah, I’d say so.
D: And that the therapy is making you feel better.
A: Oh absolutely. Without a doubt. First rate help.
D: Okay, okay. Good. Oh, just one more question then.
A: Yes?
D: Why are you hiding under my couch?
A: Is it that obvious?
D: Somewhat. Yes.
A: Dang. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.
D: I should have warned you that I am the Worlds Greatest Detective. Come out from there.
A: Okay, but I should warn you that you are putting me in grave danger.
D: Why is that?
A: Villainy is afoot.
D: Ah, yes. I was wondering when this might come up. So who is it that’s after you? Dr. Doom? Sabretooth? Willie Lumpkin?
A: WHAT!? Those guys are lightweights! Dr Doom? HA! The only thing he’s a Doctor of is wetting the bed! And Sabretooth? I knew him when he was still Deputy Dawg!
D: I see.
A: Dr Octopus got his name from a calamari allergy, Galactus is a cross dresser, Thanos TELLS people he’s obsessed with Death when it’s actually Lady Gaga and Magneto once got stuck to his fridge for three weeks! Losers, each and every one of them.
D: So what is it that strikes fear into the heart of the mighty, Ant Man then?
A: Mulch.
D: What?
A: Mulch. There’s a ton of it out in your garden today. Mulch is an ants’ worst enemy.
D: Not Baron Zemo then?
A: Mulch makes Zemo look like a pansy. Zemo could only HOPE to be half the villain that mulch is.
D: What’s wrong with it? It helps my garden grow.
A: You know what else it helps grow? Do ya!?
D: Oh, what?
A: SHREWS!
D: Oh sweet jesus…
A: That’s right! Satan’s little minions of death! The Shrew!!!
D: And what has the humble shrew ever done to you?
A: THEY ATE MY AUNT GEOFFREY!!!
D: Your ant Aunt Geoffrey?
A: She coulda been someone, Doc! She was top of her ant class! She was going to go to Ant college!
D: What was she going to study?
A: ANThropolgy!
D: Okay. I’m ending the session there.
A: But my inner pain! My fear of shrews! My allergy to family members getting eaten!
SLAP!!!!!!!
D: Better?
A: Much.
D Same time next time?
A: Thanks, Doc.
D: Pleasure, Ant Man.
PREVIOUS - The IRRITATING Ant Man - Religion
ASPECT: The IRRITATING Ant Man Pt. 3
By feebadger 1 Comments
D: So, Ant Man?
A: Yes, Doc?
D: Do you believe in God?
A: I believe in a God.
D: What’s it like, this God of yours?
A: Well… it’s big. I know that for certain.
D: You mean, you’ve actually seen your God?!
A: Oh yes. Loads of times! It’s big. It blocks out the sun and it provides us with sustenance.
D: Wow. That’s amazing.
A: I know. It’s also brown, has a lid and sits on a picnic blanket.
D: That’s a picnic basket.
A: Yes. God.
D: Your God is a picnic basket?
A: My God is ALL picnic baskets. I’m an ant!
D: But you’re an Ant MAN. What does the ‘man’ portion of you recognize as God?
A: Ponch.
D: Pardon?
A: Ponch is God. You know… from C.H.I.P.S?
D: Oh! You mean Erik Estrada?
A: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean Ponch.
D: But Ponch is just a fictional character. He’s played in the television show C.H.I.P.S by actor, Erik Estrada.
A: Uh, no. C.H.I.P.S is a documentary. Ponch is real. Ponch is God.
D: This explains so much about you.
A: Oh, you have no idea.
D: So what do you think happens to you after you die? You become a motorcycle cop in tight, tan pants?
A: No. When you die you go up to the great sugar bowl in the sky.
D: And what is this place called?
A: I call it Barry.
D: So when you die you go to “Barry?”
A: That’s right.
D: Barry, the giant bowl of sugar?
A: Exactly. Hey, you must have read Barry’s Bible or something!
D: Barry’s Bible? What’s that?
A: It’s the gospel according to Barry. Have a look. I’ve got a copy right here.
D: It’s a napkin.
A: It’s a bible.
D: It’s written in crayon.
A: Amazing isn’t it?
D: It’s pretty hard to read, but according to this only the very, very good go up to Barry, the great sugar bowl in the sky. Whereas the evil go to W… Wis…
A: Wisconsin.
D: Oh.
A: If you’re particularly evil, you go to bed without your supper.
D: And are you good or evil?
A: I’m Ant Man.
D: That pretty much says it all.
A: Thanks, Doc.
D: Pleasure, Ant Man.
PREVIOUS - The IRRATIONAL Ant Man # 2 - Teams
ASPECT: The IRRATIONAL Ant Man Pt. 2
By feebadger 6 Comments
D: So what do you want to talk about today, Ant Man?
A: Well, Doc, I’ve been thinking of starting a new super team.
D: Really? Why’s that?
A: Mainly to get a group discount at the movies.
D: Aren’t super groups more traditionally associated with “helping people” and “doing good?” I mean, what about groups like the Avengers, or the X Men?
A: What world are you living in, Doc? The Avengers are a car pooling group! The Defenders only meet online and the X Men only stay together because they get a bigger disability cheque that way.
D: Disability?
A: Yeah. They have a Canadian on their team..
D: Oh, right.
A: Anyway, you’ve got to have a super group these days. There’s a lot of villains out there, you know? It gets dangerous.
D: How so?
A: They are a violent and strange lot these super villains. All kinds of graphic atrocities can befall a hero out there. Chinese burns. Wet willies. Paper cuts. All kinds of horrible things.
D: So your super group would be to protect each other?
A: More like, give each other a lift to the doctors. Last thing I want to get involved in is a fight, Doc.
D: So, bravery wouldn’t be a part of your groups roster then?
A: Bravery is over rated, Doc. Every dead hero knows that.
D: So would your team have an arch villain?
A: I had an arch villain once.
D: Really? What was his name?
A: Das Boot. He was German, an ex cobbler who created a giant Doc Marten and used to ride it around on a pogo stick all the time trying to squash me. Ant Man is a hard moniker to live with sometimes.
D: So what happened to, The Boot.
A: Last I heard he was working for the government. Developing stealth boots or something like that. We get together once a month for a bowl of sugar.
D: Bowl of sugar?
A: I am an Ant Man, Doc.
D: Oh, right. So what will this super team of yours be called?
A: Well, I was going to call us, The Bastards! You know, try and get some of that lucrative Garth Ennis dollar but it didn’t really fit my image. So then I was going to call us The Metaphysical, Sexually Ambiguous, Camp Existentialists.
D: The Grant Morrison Dollar?
A: Exactly. But in the end I just settled for Ant Mans’ Super Team.
D: Very original.
A: Well, if it hasn’t got an X in the title, it’s not going to last anyway, I figure.
D: That’s a tad pessimistic, don’t you think?
A: Just realistic, Doc. I’m just an ant in a mans’ world.
D: That’s a bit sexist.
A: I’m an Ant Man, Doc. I’m always sexy.
D: Grooooan. You’re an idiot.
A: Well, as my mother always used to say, if you’re going to be an idiot, be the best damned idiot you can be.
D: Mission accomplished then.
A: Thanks, Doc.
D: Pleasure, Ant Man.
PREVIOUS - The IRREPRESIBLE Ant Man #1 - Origins
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