Daredevil Vol. 5: OutDaredevil comes out of the closet, and we finally learn where his partner Franklin Nelson gets his nickname "Foggy."
RATING: 81%
Fantastic Four: 1234Jae Lee does to the human form what Grant Morrison does to story, for whatever it's worth.
RATING: 54%
The Incredible Hulk Vol. 3: AbominableTrue.
RATING: 15%
Posts
12 comments:
hey yall im writing a r3 fanfic heres what i got so far:
Glenn Shaheen knew he needed to nail this interview. It was his first in nearly a decade and he had just spent his last dollar on a can of Fancy Feast which he shared with his cats. But by the time the bloated-Dolly-Parton looking secretary called Glenn into Dean Rascalflats's office for his interview, Glenn's shirt was glazed onto his swarthy armpits with a frowsy blossom of sweat.
"So Mr.... *ahem*," he looked at the resume (which was scribbled in crayon) laying on his desk, "Mr. Shaheen is it...?" Dean Hank Rascalflats peered over his horn-rimmed glasses. "I hear you are a... poet... is this correct."
"Um. Yes sir. I mean, I have an MFA in--"
"I see," interrupted Dean Rascalflats. Glenn began shifting. His back was stuck with sweat to the leather chair and his suit jacket, which he had originally bought in seventh grade in Canada (metric-sized), was drawn around the middle part of his wrists. "Tell me, then, Mr.... Shaheen, as a young negro, how do you address the 'Negro Problem' facing us today in your poems." Dean Rascalflats gestured with his head to a picture of Barack Obama on a dartboard.
"Well, sir, um. I mean, um." Glenn adjusted his position in his chair. He lifted his right ankle up to his left knee in an attempt to look more casual. Suddenly, a loud fart squeaked through the room. The fart had a sort of rubbed balloon sound and it lasted several seconds.
"Get out of my office, son."
"Yes, sir... Live long and prosper, sir," said Glenn, hanging his head.
sorry doublepost
http://reviewsreviewsreviews.blogpot.com/
@G
I always liked Jae Lee's use of shadow. But I haven't seen his work in about ten years.
@ UL&OSVUBR#12
I want more.
http://reviewsreviewsreviews.blogpot.com/
okay this comes from chapter 12 after glen and internet jon received a anonymous comment telling them to meet in a location outside of the airport in houston (do they have a airport?):
As Internet John pulled up to the rusty gate in his Mercury Bobcat, he watched Glenn Shaheen sewing a cat scratch out of the crotch of a pair of his boxer shorts. A line of planes was hovering overhead waiting to land and Glenn had his tape deck playing Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No. 2 as loud as his car speakers could play it. (Not very loud--it sounded like it was playing in a giant, rattling bathtub a mile away.)
"What the heck took you so long," Glenn asked before taking three deep, pleural coughs. "I've been waiting here for five minu..." An airplane flew over and drowned out Glenn's nattering. "...and the moisture tonight can't be good for my jock itch."
"Look, asshole," said Internet John. "I just got finished putting a baker's dozen of babies to sleep and writing a 37 page paper proving that the juvenalia of John Dryden anticipate the scientific discoveries of Watson and Crick, so unless you want a Canadian knuckle sandwich--" Suddenly, a motorcycle skidded to a halt in a tempest of dust. The driver took his helmet off by the horns.
"Viking Andrew, is that you," they asked simultaneously.
"One in the same, bitches. What are you all doing here?"
"I think we could ask the same of you," said Internet John. "And what the hell is that all aboot," asked Internet John as he gestured into the distance.
A limo was approaching and Glenn, Internet John, and Viking Andrew watched it in silence. As it pulled up, they could see, through the distant light of the airport floodlights, little flags with maple leafs fluttering mounted to the hood.
When it stopped, a valet emerged from the driver's side and opened the back door. A man, dressed in coattails and carrying a diamond-headed cane, stepped out of the car.
"Mr. Prime Minister," Glenn and Internet John exclaimed simultaneously, and they both fell on their knees and shielded their eyes.
"You are correct aboot that, my comrades," said the Prime Minister. "And you are just the rag-tag band of rascals I'm looking for to socialize Texas!"
i wanted to put viking andrew in a old model mustang but then there wld be no reason 4 him 2 ware a helmet
Hilarious. But our current prime minister isn't too fond of socialists--we call him Bush Lite.
wait, does viking andrew have epilespy
wait, does viking andrew have epilespy
I've never seen him foam at the mouth.
Post a Comment