Friday, July 21, 2006

Honestly, I'm Not A Pedophile

There is a perfectly good explanation for what happened in the park. I can explain everything.

Essentially, I had to make a trip to Washington DC in order to bail Ram out of prison. It turns out he was arrested by two undercover officers while attempting to purchase two kilos of uncut cocaine. With my money. I've got to admit, sometimes Ram plays it a little close to the vest even for me. I guess in many ways I'm like the tough captain who orders his best cop to drop the case, and Ram is the street-wise maverick who had to solve the mystery the only way he knows how - by abusing vast quantities of recreational drugs and having wild unprotected sex with adult film stars. (Although apparently the wild unprotected sex is a sacred mission imparted to him by the Guardians Of The Galaxy rather than part of the case at hand. I don't pretend to understand the cosmic mysteries of the universe myself.)

Anyway, quite obviously it was a case of two undercover investigations crossing paths with tragic consequences, which left bail at around ten grand, which frankly is a little out of my budget but I felt I could at least plead Ram's case. And maybe find the real drug pusher in this tantalising mystery. Number one suspect at the moment is Hourman. So I figured I'd scope out the park looking for dealers before I went in and showed those two-bit badge monkeys what Ralph Dibny Justice was all about.

And what should I see but some cultists. I HATE CULTISTS.

Just like that the Adventure Of The Desecrated Grave And Stolen Wallet was reopened! Again! Cultists can shake in fear because I'm not dropping this case again. No matter what the courts decide. Not that they'll decide I'm a pedophile. That certainly won't be happening. I have a good explanation for that.

Anyway, I hate cultists because they stole my wallet. And also built a giant statue of Superboy's engorged thang that I had to look at for at least thirty seconds. So it was clearly time for tea with the Reverend Fist. If you get my meaning. Regular readers will know that I'm not in the least bit violent - unless I'm provoked, that is - but sometimes desperate times call for desperately hard punches to the face and body. With my fist. And this was one of those times! I reckon Superboy himself is behind the whole thing - probably standing upside down as part of his plot, hence the upside down 'S' - so I started my line of questioning with that. And a few choice blows to the solar plexus. Sometimes being a hero means having to make hard decisions like that.

Anyway, I was really getting my groove on - I said something about the cult being everywhere and nowhere at the same time, which sounded very cool, let me tell you - and suddenly I realised that I was wrestling a twelve year old girl in a park in the dead of night.

I swear to god I didn't realise. I thought it was a midget. Anyway, as soon as I can get through to Bea I'm going to ask her to check my top secret government file to see if they think I'm a kiddy-fiddler. I really don't need that right now.

Oh, also my new home has been broken into. By cultists. I've been renting this storage locker, which is seriously about a third of the rent of a real apartment, and I can fit all my stuff into it. I sleep on a couch I installed there. It's surprisingly comfy. I recommend it to anyone. Anyway, they didn't take anything of much value, apart from my wife's clothes. They're probably fitting them onto a straw doll or something even as I speak, and then they'll dance around it in a circle, shouting 'Big Dog, Big Dog, Bow wow wow, we'll crush a bit of evil, now now now'. I've seen it happen. It's what they do. I've decided to defer getting a new shrink until I've sorted the whole cult thing out, because I'm not paying good money to be healed of mental scars one day so they can tear me some new ones the next - that's just a waste of good shrink money.

Anyway, it's now total war with cultists. And also with shaving. I've got my beard back and if Ollie doesn't like it he can stop making up ridiculous stories and sending me cuttings from Spank Magazine Reader's Wives claiming that they're him and Sue. We're all sick of your tall stories, Ollie. We know about your big road trip to find America - or as Hal describes it, your trip to the Deli to stock up on milk. So much for finding your soul on the twisting roads of this great nation, you old blowhard.


Blogger Swamp Thing said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

2:57 PM  
Blogger Kon-El said...

Yeah i have nothing to do with them......

12:46 AM  
Blogger The Watcher Uatu said...

Calm yourself, Ralph Dibny, for Uatu has investigated the disappearance of your wallet. Recent events in your universe have led me inexorably to the careful drawing of the following conclusion: _your wallet never existed!_

I would urge that you discontinue your search, as I surmise that should you actually discover your wallet, it is probable that such action will initiate a reality cascade that will rebirth your universe’s presently defunct associated multiverse.

This is, perhaps, beyond your puny mind’s ability to fathom, and as a Watcher, I cannot intervene, so I forsee that you will do as you will. But you have my advice.

3:11 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

OH FOR PITY'S SAKE. Don't you have your own universe to look out for? Why don't you just change your name to 'The Doer' and be done with it? You know, we have bald men in dressing gowns who like to watch in this reality too. We call them pathetic middle-aged voyeurs.

8:26 AM  
Blogger The Watcher Uatu said...

"Don't you have your own universe to look out for?"

I have for years been peering into into my own what is one more reality to Watch? For one of my nigh unlimited intellect, it is but a trifle.

And besides, I have grown bored with my own universe. It has been far too long since somebody attempted to become a cosmic-level overlord. I live for that stuff.

9:01 AM  
Blogger Swamp Thing said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

4:19 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

Well GEE WHIZ, thanks for telling me, hippypants. Now I've got something to tell you, and it's go screw yourself. You might want to shove your whole head up your mossy anus instead, though, because Oracle says that might make a better impression.

The day I need unnecessary advice from a self-important courgette is the day I stop eating delicious rainforest-fed burgers with a lump of endangered toucan in every bite. I don't care how many superheroes you teamed up with this week - I swear on my grandmother's life that I am going nowhere near Philadelphia ever again. Unless it's to eat a delicious Philly cheese steak! MADE FROM A PANDA!

Ralph Dibny doesn't jump around on the say-so of an allotment with a messiah complex. So you can stick that in your lentil bake and smoke it, yam boy.

4:44 PM  
Blogger Swamp Thing said...

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6:09 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...


7:58 PM  

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