Saturday, February 17, 2007

I'm Fat-Packed With Decency, Mr Bitch

So anyway, Dr Willis called and reminded me that the folks at the Haven have been waiting for me to solve a mystery there for... about six months now. You'd have thought they'd have found somebody else, but apparently when they finally managed to contact Batman in some resort somewhere he said that - and I quote - "that's merely the most, fellows, but way-out mysteries aren't my bag of jive anymore! From now on, this groovy Bat-baby is just going to swing - swing - swing!"

Apparently he also claimed that the pretty girls were blossoming like flowers, it was delicious, and that he dug this day. So evidently Batman is out of the race for a while.

On the one hand, it was a golden opportunity to show the world the power of Dibny. On the other hand, I'm a man in a hurry. I need to blow my own head off sometime soon - I've got it scheduled for next week, maybe Wednesday - and before then I need to do that scavenger hunt quest pilgramage magic doodad thing with Dr Fate, so I can sucker him into getting on my head before I ram a bullet through it. Oh yes, Dr Fate is going down with me, make no mistake about that! Cunning, thy name is Dibny.

Anyway, I was in a hurry to do things like get my affairs in order and send a box of my own fecal matter to Time Magazine, so I may... and I stress the word may... I may have done a rush job. Or a semi-rush job. Perhaps.

Let us purely hypothetically say that you can fool anybody into believing anything if you're wearing a trenchcoat.

Scratches on a camera lens? Teleportation microcircuitry, baby. A stain on the floor? Hardly. A puddle of nano-disassemblers designed to reduce a man to his component atoms and ferry him between the molecules of the walls to sweet freedom. What's that you say? Your guy vanished out of a locked, sterilised room with nothing in it but him, not even a door? Boom Tube. You never heard a sound? Shhh Tube. It's new. "Shove it under a microscope!" I scream at them. Of course, even under a microscope they don't know teleportation microcircuitry from their own anus, but they nod and pay me a thousand bucks anyway. That's why I'm the World's Greatest Detective, my friend, fancy jet car or no fancy jet car.

What can I say? I was on a roll, and I felt like grabbing me a silver wheel of Nyorlath - Dr Fate had been badgering me about it for days - so I figured it would be the work of a single second to divine its exact whereabouts with my incredible cerebral skills.

Now, what has wheels? Ambulances. All ambulances have wheels, it's a fact. Show me one that doesn't. And where do ambulances drive to and from all day? Hospitals, where people recover from debilitating accidents and injuries - often with the use of wheelchairs! WHEELS! Do you see? Ambulances also visit asylums - asylums much like the one I was in! Coincidence? I think not.

"Who have you got in a chair?" I bellowed. The Doctor seemed stunned - stunned by the breadth of my intellect.

"W-what do you mean?"

"Bring me your most unfortunate chair-guy! This instant! Come on, these people work with giant killer robots, are you telling me there isn't a crushed spine in the bunch? Not even a dislocated hip? Guy in a chair! Now! Do it!" And then I sprung the scratched-lens trick on him so he'd have no doubt that I was a mind far, far beyond his ken.

So ten seconds later I was in Professor Milo's Prisoner-style two-up-two-down. He didn't know me from Adam - Adam Strange, that is - and frankly, I had no idea who he was so I made something up. If you drop Batman's name, any crap you spout has instant validity, although now that he's digging this day I may have to switch to Superman or J'onn J'onnz or somebody to work that particular trick.

Anyway, I figure he's in a home for science-crooks and he's all magicked up with the wheel of Zardoz or whatever, so it's time to break out 'technomancer' and take it for a spin. That's part of what I call my 'Dibny Dialect' - words that mean absolutely nothing but have the absolute air of convincingness that a detective needs when he's trying to con the marks out of their hard-earned cash. And then, while he was reeling with the feeling of having his technomantric crimes exposed to the world, I tore the wheel right off his chair! In the name of justice!

Oh, he played a good game, the big faker. He even lost control of his bowels, as though that was going to convince anyone. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing there and then. And then the guy running the place - Mr Dewhurst, although he might as well call himself Mr I Have A Severe Mental Problem And Can't See A Fake Cripple When One Is Lying In Front Of Me With His Pants Filled With His Own Wretched Feces - went and ran to help him up like the rube he was. He even asked me if I had any decency at all!

I think we all know the answer to that question by now, Mr Dewhurst.

Anyway, I nearly pissed myself laughing. I had to get out of there or I was going to collapse into a fit of the giggles. Only Dr Fate rained on my parade as usual - "the final hour is at last upon us", he smirked, like he couldn't wait until I was pulling the trigger. Well, screw you, Dr Fate. You can wait until next week like everybody else.

Also, it turned out Dr Fate had already picked up the silver wheel of thingy at a jumble sale. Turns out Professor Milo's wheelchair was just made in Greece. So that was kind of a blow.

Oh well. It was still funny.

Oh yeah, and my nose seems to be twitching again. Hopefully I'll actually be able to shoot myself next week, because if my superpowers come back and the bullet bounces out of my head and into a pram or something I am going to be p-i-s-s-e-d.


Blogger Wonder Girl said...

Here is an ambulance without wheels!

AHA! I defeat you again, Dibney!

5:02 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

Nonsense. It has a giant wheel at the top with two spokes. And nothing else.

6:40 PM  
Blogger SUPERNOVA!!!!! said...


6:30 PM  
Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

I think you should speak to somebody about your issues.

Ah, but not me, I've got enough on my plate already, thank you.

1:39 PM  
Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

No offense.

1:39 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home