Saturday, October 21, 2006

The Magic Mafia Are Going To Make Me Sleep With The Fishes

So I caught Studio 60 on Monday and it seemed to be all about Sting playing a magic lute that made people deal with their love issues, and I started wondering whether I was actually in Star City at all and not in some even more ironic suburb of Hell. I mean, Sting. Playing a lute. Jesus Christ.

So I figured the best thing to do would be to head back to Hell and rejoin Dr Fate on his stupid pilgrimage. I figured I'd be okay if I just nodded my head and said 'yes' and 'no' in the right places when he went on one of his interminable three-hour rants about his credit card debts and how much he hates Dr Willis (apparently Dr Willis often needs to pee after midnight, which is apparently the rudest behaviour a human being can possibly display and doesn't he know Dr Fate needs at least eight hours of sleep every night and if it isn't him it's the inhuman keening coming from the pit of slime-coated demons in the next room and don't they have any consideration for other people, it's because they're Polish you know over there they live in mud huts etc etc etc etc) and then once he'd done his thing and I'd maybe seen my wife, like he's been dangling in front of my face FOR A MONTH, I'd head back home and watch something decent on television for once.

And that's how I found myself in a sit-down with the Magic Mafia.

I mean, after I've had a huge lecture from Dr Fate's big fat golden face about how dare I go off and enjoy some decent burritos and a sleep in a proper bed, he decides it's time to head onto the next stage of the Pilgrimage - the Happy Hunting Grounds of Native American lore! Which is a big giant field with some trees and a couple of rocks, and an assload of wolves, who presumably hunt humans as there's nothing else around. Also, apparently this is only accessable by crawling through a gigantic urethra.

Now, I've never been as knowledgable on the folklore of the Native American tribes as I could have been, but I did read a few books on the subject at school and I don't remember a gigantic urethra being mentioned. You'd have thought it might have deserved a chapter of its own, or at least a mention in the index. Anyway. Moving on.

We got to the Hunting Grounds and I was immediately attacked by the aforementioned assload of wolves, while Dr Fate did absolutely nothing to help out. Apparently I was embarrassing him in front of Flying Stag, who's this big, big guy in the world of Magic. Huge guy. A made man, if you will.

Dr Fate said I was 'a friend of his', and Flying Stag asked if I was 'a friend of ours', and Dr Fate said no, just a friend of his, except I wasn't a friend because I was an utter, utter bitch. Thanks Dr Fate. I've seen The Godfather, I know what all this 'friend' stuff is about. Flying Stag didn't want to be my friend at all. He wanted to know if I've ever whacked a guy. Or something.

Anyway, Dr Fate said that I was the guy who'd come about thing, you know, the thing about the thing, and then Flying Stag leant forward and pinched my cheeks and said I looked like a good Italian boy. By this point I was seriously creeped out, especially when Dr Fate said that I wanted to be part of this thing of theirs, but I wasn't going to roll over on them like Fredo. I asked who Fredo was. Flying Stag gave me this long look and said that Fredo had to have an accident because he wasn't paying Flying Stag the proper respect.

I had this incredibly patronising look all over my face, so Flying Stag says "I got a little lesson for you here, Mister Dibny" except he's got this Marlon brando voice on so it's all like "I guhdda liddhl lessuhn fuh yuh heah Mistuh Dhbneh" and then right on cue this poor guy falls out of the sky! And he's all like 'what did I do wrong Godfather' and Flying Stag's all like "Yuh huhv nuh wun tuh blemm buht yuhsuhlf... did yuh think tuh wuhd buh POWUH w'thuht OBLUHGUHSHN..." and then he totally sends the guy into some Hell vortex! It's like Al Capone is breaking a guy's skull with a baseball bat in front of me.

Anyway, then Flying Stag's all like "This is thuh buhddum luhn... thuz no fruh luhnch..." which I assumed meant that someday, and that day may never come, he would call upon me to do a service for him. But until then I should accept this big-ass glowing rock that fell off a dead guy as a gift on his daughter's wedding day.

Anyway, I completely didn't care and I must have had that written all over my face because Flying Stag grabs me by the beard and shouts "What huv uh uhver duhn tuh yuh tuh muhk yuh suh duhsruhspuhtfuhl... yuh duhn't uhvuhn cuhll muh Guhdfuhthuh!" and then a bunch of Native Americans in pinstripe suits pop out of nowhere and work me over with baseball bats.

Which is why I'm writing this from a hospital bed back on good old Earth. Thank you, Dr Fate, and if I ever see you again, I'm going to pee in you.

9 Comments:

Blogger Green Arrow said...

You think you've got problems? Jeezus, I let that ass Maggin do one door-stop and gets all rhetorical and says 'with Queen in the mayor's mansion, he'll turn a new page everyday!' It's been on every goddamn news bulletin ever goddamn since!

Holy Hannah! If they ever find that book goddam Kevin Smith wrote about me....

7:19 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

Well, at least you've got that soup-strainer of yours back. And speaking of soup, have I told you that that is the only thing I can eat now YOU SELF-IMPORTANT ASSWIPE? Because if I haven't, this might be a good time to mention that soup is the only thing I can eat. And I eat it through a special tube in my throat.

So yes, I do think I have problems. I'm sorry everyone thinks you're trying to corrupt young boys, but let's face it - it's not like they didn't before.

5:25 PM  
Blogger Green Arrow said...

I say to the voters of Star City, look at my record. My first ward, Roy, was a snowbird, it's true, but he's grown up to be an outstanding young pervert. My second ward, Mia, was a hooker when I got her.

There was also that kid who was kept in the basement for occult purposes, but I had nothing to do with that - he belonged to my housemate, who was the Star City Slayer at the time.

As for you Dibny - hold back the jive, man! I was going to overlook your encounter with Native American spirituality - again, one of MY THINGS you casually RIPPED OFF! Just ask any of my redskin brothers who were there when I dressed up as the ghost of Chief Ulysses Star. I was totally respectful and inspiring. So back off, pale ass!

6:15 PM  
Blogger Rick Tyler said...

I talked with my dad...Fredo may have been Fred Thorpe who used to work with Detective Chimp...until he was murdered - which until now was thought to have been unrelated.
Thanks to your efforts Ralph, perhaps his family may now be able to get some closure. Kudos.

1:38 PM  
Blogger Hal Jordan said...

Ollie, leave the man alone... your stress is getting into your nerves BAD. Do a flash soulsearch trip over Star City someday... get your mind clear. DON'T TELL ME YOU DON'T HAVE TIME, YOU'RE THE GODDAMNED MAYOR!!! THAT MEANS YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.
As for you Dibny... man, you just don't mess around with the underworld happy families. Believe me, the Don's gonna act like you owe him your life or something... which, by this point is probably true, because you're not dead. I know what it is to get your ass kicked by post-life entities... and wolves. One piece of advise, find something to blackmail Dr. Fate, something he did or didn't do... I don't know. Tell him that if there's any more trouble, you'll sing to the Don. If that doesn't work, hell... you're officially his bitch.
By the way, you're absolutely non-italian?

9:57 PM  
Blogger Hal Jordan said...

Ollie, leave the man alone... your stress is getting into your nerves BAD. Do a flash soulsearch trip over Star City someday... get your mind clear. DON'T TELL ME YOU DON'T HAVE TIME, YOU'RE THE GODDAMNED MAYOR!!! THAT MEANS YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.
As for you Dibny... man, you just don't mess around with the underworld happy families. Believe me, the Don's gonna act like you owe him your life or something... which, by this point is probably true, because you're not dead. I know what it is to get your ass kicked by post-life entities... and wolves. One piece of advise, find something to blackmail Dr. Fate, something he did or didn't do... I don't know. Tell him that if there's any more trouble, you'll sing to the Don. If that doesn't work, hell... you're officially his bitch.
By the way, you're absolutely non-italian?

9:58 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

No, I'm not Italian, or Native American. Although I do have some Native American blood in me - the hospital needed a transfusion and Flying Steg sent one of his goombahs along 'in my time of need'. Apparently some day, and this day may never come, although it's Tuesday at 3.45 sharp, I will perform a service to him involving breaking somebody's kneecap with my crutches.

Also, I hate you.

9:04 AM  
Blogger Barry Allen said...

Did you know that the patella or kneecap is a thick, triangular bone which articulates with the femur and covers and protects the front of the knee joint? It develops from the tendon of the Quadriceps femoris muscle, which contracts to straighten the leg. The patella increases the leverage that the tendon can exert on the femur by increasing the angle at which it acts

8:40 AM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

I DESPISE YOU BARRY

10:49 AM  

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