Friday, November 10, 2006

You Are My Bitch Now, Dr Fate

So I ended up taking a dump in Dr Fate.

Basically, he'd told me we were setting out for the giant magical hand of Neron at precisely ten o'clock sharp, Monday morning, in order to make a Faustian bargain. So I figured I could set the alarm for eight, take a shower, have a nice leisurely breakfast and get my things together in time for him to knock on the door at about a quarter to or so, right?

Wrong.

At five o'clock in the goddamned morning he starts butting my door with his golden face - carving huge chunks out of the wood with that damn fin of his that I'm going to have to pay to get repaired - and he doesn't stop with his hammering until I'm standing there in my dressing gown blinking at him. And then - then - after he's woken me and all my neighbours out of a sound sleep, after he's destroyed my front door, after he's sold me for a pack of cigarettes to a bunch of interdimensional Native American mafiosi, he stares at me with those creepy glowing eyes of his, and frigging intones:

"You betray your heroic legacy, Ralph Dib-"

He didn't get any further. I mean, I don't even have a legacy! There wasn't some guy in WWII who explored the stretch-making properties of tropical-fruit-flavoured soda. That was me. I was the first. I'm like the Isaac Newton of stretching. It's a whole new art form, and I'm totally the Picasso of it. Which would make Plastic Man the Duchamp, I guess, but he just fell in some goop like an asshole. He didn't examine a fruit drink. The guy who examined a fruit drink and its relationship to circus freaks was myself. That's what makes me, Ralph Dibny, the No Longer Elongated Man, the greatest superhero of all time. So if anybody wants to take their legacy from me and become Elongated Man Junior or Elongochild or The Purple Stretchboy, I can think of no greater honour for them. And for just $500, cash, they can have my personal guarantee that I won't sue them within an inch of their zitty lives for trademark infringement. That's the mark of a hero. That's the mark of Ralph Dibny. And it can be yours. For five hundred clams.

But I digress.

The reason Dr Fate didn't get any further was because I, the heroic Ralph Dibny, grabbed him by the fin, turned him upside down and let go my entire straining bowel deep inside him. I'd had a heaping helping of Queen Chili the night before as part of Ollie's pre-victory celebrations (which I was invited to, no matter what Ollie, the guest list or any of the bouncers had to say on the matter) and frankly, it needed to come out. And come out it did. I'm not going to belabour the point here, but I shat in Dr Fate. Repeatedly. It felt good.

Things changed a little after that, I can tell you. Suddenly he's not floating around the place like some big-ass Lord Of Order! Suddenly he's crying in the corner like the Lord Of Being Filled With My Fecal Matter! Frankly, it did more for my therapy than five years of going to Dr Willis, although I doubt he'd agree even if he wasn't still mooning over Emily Dickinson's restless skeleton. But screw him! The new kick-ass, take-charge, heavy-hitting, golden-hat-defecating-in Ralph Dibny takes no prisoners and obeys no rules, least of all those about not filling up Dr Fate's golden helmet with human ordure.

Suffice it to say that I was in charge now. And I was taking us to see a giant magical hand a little more to my liking. A giant hand associated with heroism. And admittedly unspeakable torture and death. But heroism nonetheless.

Unfortunately that didn't turn out quite as well as I thought it would.

Don't get me wrong! The Spectre had a great plan! I was going to take some of his power and take care of the bitch Loring once and for all! With a Dibny-style Spectre Poetic Vengeance, involving her watching herself stomping about on my wife's brain forever and - and this is the clever part - not enjoying it at all! Genius!

It was pretty emotionally intense, mind you, and that was probably why it didn't work out too well. I mean, I was crying, Loring was crying, Sue would probably have been crying if she'd known she was going to have her brain stepped on, and a vase got knocked over. But things were going completely to plan. Anyway, then Loring says something about how I'm only punishing myself, and I'm just thinking about how that's total crap since actually I'm punishing her, and that's completely the whole point of this, Loring -

- when she suddenly elbows me in the balls!

I mean, so much for the big vengeance plan. We both snap back to the present, except she elbowed me so hard it's a few days later, and I'm left doubled over in the fetal position. And then the Spectre takes all his power back because I got elbowed in the balls like a complete gimp. And I'm all like "you tricked me!" Because he did! I was meant to have the invulnerable scrotum of the Spectre for that vengeance. But I guess he was worried a stray meteorite might hit him in the nads or something so he kept that for himself. And he's all like, "blah blah blah bargain blah blah you're a wuss blah blah."

Anyway, I'm wise to his game now. By letting me take that hit to the balls, he told be something crucial - that I, Ralph Dibny, need to learn how to get punched in the balls without feeling it. Luckily I know a secret martial arts monastery where a guy can learn the secrets of taking blows to the groin and then getting right back up and kicking some Jean Loring flavoured ass. Once I've mastered those mad skills, we're heading right back to the vengeance, baby. It's not over, Loring. There's some brain-stomp-watching to be done in your future, and it's on an infinite loop. And you don't even get popcorn, unless it's special guilt-flavoured popcorn of vengeance.

Anyway, here I am in the mountains where there isn't any internet and people communicate by telepathy. So I had to plug my modem into a monk. He kind of wants a break now, so I'll sign off until next week. This is Ralph Dibny saying - vengeance is mine!

17 Comments:

Blogger Tefé Holland said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

2:37 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

You're the Paris Hilton of superheroes, Tefe.

4:06 PM  
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5:02 PM  
Blogger SUPERNOVA!!!!! said...

Hahahahaha,fear me Dibney! I have entered the time stream and am torturing you now with spam, until the time I can stop killing time travelers and turn you into dust!

Did I told you I killed an entity with an afro made from time itself? And you couldn't kill Jean with Spectre's powers.

PS: I told you would visit the spectre!!!!!!!

PS 2: I'll think I'll go and kill Swamp Thing. His ideas of peace irritate my micro-microchips.

5:30 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

AAAAAHHHH!! Skeets! You've brought spam with you! HOW DARE YOU THIS IS WORSE THAN TURNING A BILLION PEOPLE INTO STEAM. As for your afro-geddon, I won't respect you until you grow such an afro yourself.

And yes, you did give me the idea to go and see the Spectre. Well done. There's no money in it, though, so you can forget about begging for a handout. I'm not a soup kitchin for the chronocidal. Or the afrocidal.

6:56 PM  
Blogger Tefé Holland said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

11:16 AM  
Blogger Green Arrow said...

Hey Ralph.

Glad you enjoyed the party. All the government cats were impressed that I've already got a comedic impersonator doing the rounds, so we're cool. Barbara Streisand even said she thinks she can use you in her show!

Funny thing - after your appearance in the hot tub, Krystal asked me why you kept introducing yourself as the Elongated Man. Out of the mouths of babes, huh pal!

Anyhow, Gary Coleman says he thinks you left wearing his pants by mistake. He says they're khaki, with cuffs, and a bus ticket in the backpocket. If you've got them let me know.

uh oh - gotta hurl

3:36 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

Oh, ha ha ha. Barbara Streisand. Ha ha. 'Why do they call him the Elongated Man' - you wish you had the Dibny Dingus. And while we're at it, you wish you had a pair of safari shorts this stylin', Ollie. Maybe you could groom young heroin addicts in them. 'Gary Coleman', what kind of a - CHRIST DAMMIT! THESE ARE GARY COLEMAN'S! BASTARD!

DAMMIT Ollie I blame you for this. I had ten bucks in the back pocket of those pants! My pants, that is - the ones Coleman stole with his circus midget powers. You can tell Mister Coleman that I want every penny of that ten bucks by Wednesday or my attourney will know the reason why!

5:25 PM  
Blogger Tefé Holland said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

6:11 PM  
Blogger Keith Giffen said...

I must have gone insane. Here i am replying to a blog written by a character that i wrote for i don't even know how many years. What's next lobo?

3:52 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

You obviously have gone insane. I'd recommend a psychiatrist, but the only one I have experience with is on a quest to woo Emily Dickinson's zombie so frankly it'd be like the blind leading the blind.

Skeets, is this you? Are you leading the mentally challenged to my door now? Have a care.

5:11 PM  
Blogger Lobo said...

Hello bastiches Lobo here with news from space but first Dibny you need to get over the wife just do what i did get starfire alone give her some "liquid candy" and have some fun but make sure Animal man doesn't find you guys and make Adam start shooting even if he's blind it hurts like hell to get shot in the balls.

6:41 PM  
Blogger Tefé Holland said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

3:39 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

I'm wearing thermal underwear.

4:24 AM  
Blogger jean loring said...

Hello Darlings!

I'm sure you've all missed me but it's v hard to use my eldritch crystal wi fi powers when there is so much sunspot activity.

anyway, Ralph is bending the truth as usual! I so did not punch him in the balls! He just started screaming like a little girl for no reason at all.

Ralph you silly billy, the spectre is my boyfriend remember! We decided to cook up a little joke to cheer you up as you have been so grumpy lately.

It was all going to be "punish punish punish" and I would be all "boo hoo, don't make me look!" and then when "Sue" picked up the phone all her clothes would have falen off and she would have done a sexy dance for you, but oh no, you had to start gibbering and run away.

oh well, me and Spectre had awesome magickal space sex after you left, silver linings and all that...

12:06 PM  
Blogger Tefé Holland said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

3:56 PM  
Blogger Rick Tyler said...

Swamp Thing, if your daughter knew that you were posting as her, she'd be super pissed.
Why don't you leave my buddy Ralph alone, and go back to posting your own shit on your KKK-anti-gay-crazy-ass-universe-crossover- porno blog.
And I'm on my way to Houma now to finish the job that Bane started.
I beat Bane!!
-Rick

11:51 AM  

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