Folks, I’d like to have a little chat about the constant, mindless violence we see all over the world on a day-to-day basis. People killing each other over differences of ideology, sexuality, skin color, and religion. Gang wars. Drug wars. Marital wars.
You see, there are people out there who want to do you harm. Other people, just like you. Believe it or not, I’m against that sort of thing. I think it’s absolutely deplorable and irresponsible for so many societies to allow such actions to go on, day in and day out, with flimsy pretexts protecting murderers from any sort of justice.
Take, for instance, this couple over here in Yabloo City, which probably used to be such a quiet town. Specifically, let’s take Mr. Donathan Hughes and his wife, Gypsy Hughes. Always a sad thing when two people go off and get married. You see, marriage is a powerful, wondrous thing, like a black hole. It takes two people, and sometimes more as I for one am not discriminatory against polygamy, and makes them into one being, smooshing them together to form a kind of relationship singularity which draws in all their close friends and family, making each passing moment seem to move faster and faster as they are drawn closer, while the outside world wonders why they now are stuck moving so slowly. Then, finally, it crushes them and their hopes and dreams so thoroughly that not even the light of day can escape. Some would say this is romantic. Those people are called masochists.
But luckily, unlike with a real black hole, there is a way to escape. Many people use it, even those who feel it is sacred for some reason, I suppose because martyrdom is also sacred but not everyone wants to be torn to shreds by an angry beast they got drunk and put a ring on.
Some people don’t take this route because there’s also a little loophole about parting at death. That’s where the Hughes came in. This husband and wife didn’t like each other so much that for some reason, they both wound up late at night at the local Piggly Wiggly supermarket to duel to the death with as many guns as they could carry. No one is exactly sure why they did this, or where they got the guns from, or why there were black lights all in the store and various disco balls hanging around to throw light around in confusing ways. They’re also unsure of what happened to all closed circuit footage, which is now available for sale on some hidden websites over in this dimension. All they know is that an extensive gun battle left a lot of damage behind, and at least one damaged behind, which is going to put a damper on the Piggly Wiggly’s sale of turkeys. At least it was the offseason for turkeys.
There’s also a few questions of why their house was robbed that same night while police were busy investigating the warzone and what the connection was to the two separately emptying their bank accounts then later coming in as a pair upset that their money was all gone.
I guess some mysteries will never be solved. What about me? Don’t know why you’re asking. Does that really sound like something I’d set up if they both came to me wanting the other killed?
I suppose it might. After all, outlandish death and destruction is pretty enjoyable at times. In this world, you get all this crazy stuff happening and people die, but they get to put stuff on tombstones like “Was killed by the MegaCrushinator” or they’re remembered as the victim of some high-profile evil genius in the middle of his plot to conquer the world. Can you imagine living in a world where you were instead just killed by some regular person off the street because the other guy was a racist or an overzealous neighborhood watchman?
You know, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes weren’t good people to each other. Cheating, domestic abuse, nasty rumors behind their back. In a world with regular people, the ones most likely to do the killing are the assholes who already have no respect for life. Over here, they are just as likely to be killed as anyone else. Perhaps even more so if you consider the inflated sense of justice some of the heroes have.
That’s probably the part that would come up in the other harrowing thing that occurred. This local businessman who did something with insurance was murdered. Then it got revealed that the guy was a total asshat. We’re talking crude sexual jokes about every woman he met, bullying his assistant into giving him money because he used all his on bills, holding off appointments to go buy fishing gear, throwing people under the bus just to make a dollar, and taking days off to go fishing then coming back and wondering why his assistant hasn’t handled all the work singlehandedly.
You know, some supervillains have tried that before. The lucky ones found that their guards were fairly easy to sneak past and never put too much a fight when a hero came knocking. It’s almost as if all the guards beaten up by an infiltrating hero might also somehow explain the consistent failure rate in the supervillains’ ingenious deathtraps, but what do I know?
Isn’t it interesting how. No way will anybody say they know I had anything to do with those crimes. The Hughes couple already have people claiming they always knew something was up with them. The assistant to the insurance guy has skipped town to be with some voodoo woman in New Orleans. While I wasn’t there when the man was found painted bright purple with yellow polka dots and choked to death with a Big Mouth Billy Bass shoved down his throat, I have read about his remarkable suicide note wherein he admitted all his wrongdoing and felt it was time to commit to a somewhat honorable and painless course of action to try and make up for his deeds.
It is possible I had something to do with robbing the bank while police were all sitting around trying to sort out the mess at the Piggly Wiggly and the other man’s office.
For one thing, I know that there is a web of bad feelings throughout any little community. I am up close and personal with this web. I’m like some sort of web-humping fiend to this web.
For example, there’s a drug ring at Yabloo High. Yep. It was brought to my attention by a man who seemed a little overly concerned about the wellbeing of the kids. He said something about how he can’t go to the police because he’d go to jail. He’s not allowed to get that close to any school anymore. Not even when school is out for the summer and students are using storage buildings to cook meth.
Isn’t it a shame how such close-knit communities like this one become so torrid and scandalous? A man would be violating the law to save those he cared about. I almost feel for him. Maybe not in his interests, but you run into all types when you walk on this side of the law. You won’t believe the eye fetish among supervillains. I don’t get it, but then I also don’t get that kind of attention. Apparently they don’t like fake eyes. Sometimes, villains act like total boobs.
It’s worse in the cities. People tend to be drawn to conflict and all those people close together creates a lot of conflict. That’s why you have The Flight out of Kingscrow, who are so disorganized they took this long to even think up a name. Or maybe they already had one and I just never bothered with it. That would make sense too. Screw those losers. Problem is, those losers have joined up with other losers, like Honky Tonk Hero, Gorilla Awesome, and Master Academy’s field team. They mentioned that The Human Sloth was under the weather and wouldn’t be out in the field much right now, by the way. That’s where they’re wrong. I think they’ll have him in the field in a hurry. About 6 feet under a field somewhere.
That’s right, an exact measurement. You can blame that HBO show about the mortician family for that one. I just wish they were as good as the prequel movies where the guy was Gomez and he had a wife called Morticia. Explosions, poison, arms being forcibly removed on a stage in front of people. It had everything.
You know, I’ve heard some people put the idea out there that to a world of mundane human beings, superhumans would be amazingly scary. They’d be something to fear all the time. Getting pancaked into a wall in the middle of a superhero fight.
Maybe if you lack imagination that’s what it’s like. I know that over here, you can tell when someone around is going to get violent and hurt people by the fact that he’s wearing a bright strongman outfit. You also know there’s a chance some other random person around you is going to jump out and fight him. The random guy might save your life. If no one dies, you get a fight where someone is throwing cars around and shooting lasers from bodyparts and all these things happen that most people never get to experience. The good and the bad will fight and there will be a clear winner. If someone dies, then they don’t get some mundane death like being shot in a mugging or having a heart attack on the toilet. No, they get to be a casualty of someone like Lord De Maasters and maybe have a family member swear vengeance upon him.
Or maybe it’ll be a plague unleashed by a mad scientist, somebody like my pal Mix N’Max, except something like that’s only going to happen in an important place, like the U.S.A. That means there’s going to be good super scientists and healers and whatnot all combining their efforts to save the day.
Either way, doesn’t it beat someone getting shot to death over a simple misunderstanding, or hearing about another AIDS epidemic that you’re helpless to do anything about because the President is too scared of sex to admit that condoms exist?
Well, folks, sorry if this hasn’t exactly been an action-packed update for you. As I said, I clearly had nothing to do with the shootout at the Piggly Wiggly cart corral or with the asshole fisherman taking a fish down his basshole and I’m sure you have no reason to doubt that is anything but the truth. Honestly. Would I lie?
Of course not. I’ve been too busy here with Moai in this house. Cooking up some stuff with a little bit of rust and aluminum I got, maybe putting together a little something to help end all the conflicts of this tormented little town. I don’t have it all down solid yet, but I know that meth can explode violently if one or two little things goes wrong and that at some point I want the sheriff’s office gone. Removed. I want the pigs so gone, you’d think the internet descended on them in a bacon frenzy.
The surprise was almost spoiled too. Buddy showed up but we took care of him easily enough. He’s locked in the basement and handcuffed to a water heater with fluffy pink handcuffs. I am not quite sure what I’m going to do with him, but it might involve claiming I want to play a little game where I’ll give him a bottle of syrup and tell him that if he wants to survive, he has show it with a horrifying test of his survival instinct. I’m not going to be specific, mainly because I want to see what his imagination comes up with as to what I want done with the syrup or where he’s going to stick it.
Hmmm, maybe I should stay away from doing PSAs. That one could go either way. I expect you’ll all let me know if I’ve caused an epidemic of violent people, but at least they’re likely to be people who get violent with chicken and syrup rather than guns and bombs. Mmm, that’s not a bad idea. Hey Moai, fix me some chicken and waffles!