Friday, December 22, 2006

This Will Be My FINAL Final Journal Entry

Well, I was all set to launch into the most glamorous suicide of all by using the Flash's Cosmic Treadmill to project myself back to the beginning of time and be blown up in the Big Bang itself - which may coincidentally have meant that the entire universe would have been remade in my image, which can't be bad - but then I got a look at the broom closet they're remembering me with, and I just can't be bothered. What is the point? I ask you. What is the point of doing anything when these miserable skinflints won't even spring for a proper room to remember it by?

I don't know. You work hard all your life solving bizarre mysteries - you slave and you slave for a pack of freaks and scum who wouldn't give you the time of day if you didn't wear a giant sign on your back proclaiming you the World-Famous Elongated Man - and at the end of your illustrious career, what do you have left? Nothing. A few cabinets. A picture that doesn't even show your good side. And one measly gold statue. One.

That whole room should have been gold! That should have been the Elongated Man Museum Of Elongation and they should have given Barry that pokey little piece of nothing to store his pathetic so-called 'trophies' in, rather than trying to cage my magnificence in that grim hovel they call 'The Ralph Room'. 'The Ralph Room'! The sheer gaucheness of it all.

Barry would have agreed with that idea. Barry was a true friend, and besides he had a martyr complex a mile wide. Look at how he killed himself. There's a glorious suicide for you- another example of how he callously stole my thunder every step of the way. The filth. He wasn't worthy of my greatness and neither is his ridiculous excuse for a museum. I gave them the contents of my storage locker in good faith after their promised to create a shrine to the beauty and grace of Ralph Dibny. And what do they do? They piss on me. I gave them my best gun and they put it in a silver display case with a placard that reads 'This is the gun which the World-Famous Elongated Man once contemplated snuffing out the awesome brilliance, like unto a thousand suns, that was his mortal existence'.

A silver display case.

There's a golden display case for Barry's cowl and that's just a shabby old bit of red cloth filled with dandruff. It's an insult. A calculated attempt to crap on my face. And they wonder why I'm angry. The bastards.

I've had enough. Even Dr Fate is starting to sass me, like an unruly teenager, just because I enjoy the occasional methylated spirit. All great men have. Edgar Allen Poe drank meths all the time when we solved the case of Jack The Ripper. Or possibly that was me, I was drunk at the time... well, Edgar Allen Poe won't have Ralph Dibny to push around any longer! And neither will you, dear reader, you bastard.

If this is Christmas, you can keep it. I hate and despise Christmas and all it stands for, and what's more, I wish that I, Ralph Dibny, was never born! I tell you, everyone in this miserable town would much rather I was dead than alive. That's why, the very second I've finished this bottle of meths, I'm going to hurl myself off the Keystone Bridge! Merry Christmas to nobody!

Bring me more meths, damn you!

5 Comments:

Blogger The Hulk said...

And people say us Marvel guys are whiney

11:52 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

Shouldn't that be "Puny humans say Hulk am big tears boo hoo sob" or some similar piece of baby-drivel? I may be 'whiney' but at least I have a full command of the English language, unlike some.

Also, why are you here? There isn't some kind of Crisis, is there? I don't want any big news events taking the spotlight off my hurling myself into the icy water to drown.

5:29 AM  
Blogger Green Arrow said...

Happy holidays, Ralph.

Don't let the creeping commercial cancer of a capitalist Christmas crap you out, man. Know that I, Ollie Queen, donated a goat to a poor village in southern Modora - in your name.

What a good idea, hey brother? I make a donation to a charity, and get to point it out to everyone, and at the same time I get to point out that you wouldn't have thought to do something so considerate as give a goat. And I pretend to give you the credit for the goat, so then I get even more credit for pretending to give you the credit. And you go without a real present, because you don't really need one. Because I say so.

I love it, man! Everyone in the JLA are getting goats from kind old Ollie next year!

2:36 AM  
Blogger Wonder Girl said...

I am not thinking very straight right now cause I am inebriated with the spirit of Christmas! Or maybe from drinking that bottle I stole from my mom's cabinet. I don't know what kind of liqueur is 'Love Lube' but it's the last time I drink that crap. Jesus, I think I am going to puke...

Anyway, I think this is a job for Zauriel! If he is still alive somewhere. Maybe Zauriel can take you to a parallel universe where you never existed thanks to the magic of HYPERTIME! There you can see how horrible the world is without you! Although, to be honest you never did anything Plastic Man or Martian Manhunter couldn't do. And, when you think about it, if you had never met your wife, she would have never been on the satellite and she would probably still be alive happily married and with kids. Not to mention that the Infinite Crisis would have never happened at all. That means there are a lot of dead people that would be alive if you had never existed at all, including... OH MY GOD! Kon El would still be alive, and not playing Supernova pretending he doesn't know me. You killed Superboy, you awful elongated bastard!

Skeets! Skeets! Where the heck are you? I need to travel back in time and push an elongated toddler in front of a bus.

8:32 AM  
Blogger SUPERNOVA!!!!! said...

Well, I tried that already. But, well, searching for people in the past is hard when you are a robot with only HEADLINES in your memory. You can't use the phone, and if you enter a building, they shoot you. But that doesn't mean I didn't killed toddlers. I did. And I enjoyed it with al my circuits.

12:13 PM  

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