A Flimsy Pretext
Predator Press
[Mr. Insanity]
Watching a jousting exhibition at Excalibur, LOBO and Legless Jim were covered head to toe in tourist souvenirs.
Legless Jim was quiet and contemplative; having bought Brad Pitt's legs, he could no longer be called "Legless Jim" and needed to come up with a new nickname.
"How about 'Blind Jim'?", asks LOBO, offering his Excalibur sunglasses.
"Can you really forgive ten years of debt to Las Vegas?" I asked over the cheering crowd.
"Sure," says LOBO confidently, sipping noisily from the bottom of his Excalibur flagon of Diet Excalibur Pepsi through a green curly Excalibur straw, jammed tightly against the tiny Excalibur umbrella. "It's a well-known fact that these Las Vegas guys are really generous and forgiving at heart. Those mobsters and stuff are all made up Hollywood eye-candy to disguise the soft-hearted and selfless nature of your average casino owner."
The lead character was on the field. The tall, handsome young blonde guy in armor was dispatching six big thugs in a fantastic flurry of buzz-saw swordplay.
"See?" says LOBO, dropping his Excalibur fries in excitement. "That is how my stunts in LOBO: The Motion Picture should look." He sticks his tiny plastic Excalibur sword in my chest. "Remind me to give George Lucas a call."
With an invisible Excalibur pencil, I pretended to write that down on an invisible Excalibur pad.
Distracted, my Excalibur nachos had long since gone cold and soggy. I decide to breach the subject of my preoccupation. "Right before we crashed our plane into the Leaning Pyramid of Disco-Lighted Sphinx Laser Waterfall Towers --causing Las Vegas to spontaneously and inexplicably forgive ten years of gambling debts-- you were saying something about our, uh, our matching birthmarks."
"What?" says LOBO. "Oh. This." He turns his forearm to bear the curious birthmark and flicked it off with his finger.
Stunned, I turn my arm to my own birthmark. Rubbing it with my fingers, it started to peel off.
"Ethan has a trademark on the kit." LOBO explained. "You never know when a bunch of adhesive birthmarks might come in handy."
The crowd cheered as Prince Valliant somersaulted into furious combat with The Black Knight.
"So you're not my father." I sigh in relief.
"I didn't say that." says LOBO.
But you've never even slept with Sapphire."
LOBO smiled wistfully. "Not yet."
My face soured. The repulsive thought of mom and dad having sex made my mind slam shut like a trap, punctuated by the sound of Prince Charming and the Black Knight clashing steel.
"Look." says LOBO. Sensing my apprehension, he patted my shoulder assumingly. "You have to lighten up. And stop asking so many questions." He sighed. "You'll go crazy!"
"I suppose you're right," I said.
"Cohesive themes and good, solid plotlines are such a hassle," he whispers. "They completely mitigate the possibility of anything weird ever happening."
[Mr. Insanity]
Watching a jousting exhibition at Excalibur, LOBO and Legless Jim were covered head to toe in tourist souvenirs.
Legless Jim was quiet and contemplative; having bought Brad Pitt's legs, he could no longer be called "Legless Jim" and needed to come up with a new nickname.
"How about 'Blind Jim'?", asks LOBO, offering his Excalibur sunglasses.
"Can you really forgive ten years of debt to Las Vegas?" I asked over the cheering crowd.
"Sure," says LOBO confidently, sipping noisily from the bottom of his Excalibur flagon of Diet Excalibur Pepsi through a green curly Excalibur straw, jammed tightly against the tiny Excalibur umbrella. "It's a well-known fact that these Las Vegas guys are really generous and forgiving at heart. Those mobsters and stuff are all made up Hollywood eye-candy to disguise the soft-hearted and selfless nature of your average casino owner."
The lead character was on the field. The tall, handsome young blonde guy in armor was dispatching six big thugs in a fantastic flurry of buzz-saw swordplay.
"See?" says LOBO, dropping his Excalibur fries in excitement. "That is how my stunts in LOBO: The Motion Picture should look." He sticks his tiny plastic Excalibur sword in my chest. "Remind me to give George Lucas a call."
With an invisible Excalibur pencil, I pretended to write that down on an invisible Excalibur pad.
Distracted, my Excalibur nachos had long since gone cold and soggy. I decide to breach the subject of my preoccupation. "Right before we crashed our plane into the Leaning Pyramid of Disco-Lighted Sphinx Laser Waterfall Towers --causing Las Vegas to spontaneously and inexplicably forgive ten years of gambling debts-- you were saying something about our, uh, our matching birthmarks."
"What?" says LOBO. "Oh. This." He turns his forearm to bear the curious birthmark and flicked it off with his finger.
Stunned, I turn my arm to my own birthmark. Rubbing it with my fingers, it started to peel off.
"Ethan has a trademark on the kit." LOBO explained. "You never know when a bunch of adhesive birthmarks might come in handy."
The crowd cheered as Prince Valliant somersaulted into furious combat with The Black Knight.
"So you're not my father." I sigh in relief.
"I didn't say that." says LOBO.
But you've never even slept with Sapphire."
LOBO smiled wistfully. "Not yet."
My face soured. The repulsive thought of mom and dad having sex made my mind slam shut like a trap, punctuated by the sound of Prince Charming and the Black Knight clashing steel.
"Look." says LOBO. Sensing my apprehension, he patted my shoulder assumingly. "You have to lighten up. And stop asking so many questions." He sighed. "You'll go crazy!"
"I suppose you're right," I said.
"Cohesive themes and good, solid plotlines are such a hassle," he whispers. "They completely mitigate the possibility of anything weird ever happening."
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