Monday, May 07, 2007

You Have Been Reading

(Weeks 1 and 2 were undocumented as Ralph was mostly hiding under a wardrobe.)
Week 3: "would I like a hot beverage"
Week 4: "foam foam yib yib yib"
Week 5: "CliffBen GrimmSteele the RoboThing"
Week 6: "A isn't B"
Week 7: "I swear I was getting an erection"
Week 8: "the red elongated trotsky"
Week 9:"goodbye forever"
Week 10:"I know what happened on Mount Olympus"
Week 11: "big dog, big dog, bow wow wow, we'll crush a bit of evil, now now now"
Week 12: "headquarters are my clothes"
Week 13a: "YOU BASTARDS"
Week 13: "presumably a metaphor"
Week 14: "Emily Dickinson is a world-famous ho"
Week 15a: "suck it... in hell"
Week 15: "the sucky dance, is your chance, to do the suck"
Week 16: "cold and alone on Misery Street"
Week 17: "Doctor Robert Lynchmob"
Week 18: "me and Sheriff John Bunnell"
Week 19: "What do I care about your unsightly nose hair? I've just seen a universe die"
Week 20: "coprophagia in my rooms"
Week 21: "stylin' safari suit"
Week 22: "just like the capitalist world"
Week 23: "get thee behind me, changeling of Satan"
Week 24: "Fredo had to have an accident"
Week 25: "nobody will mourn your johnson"
Week 25a: "Happy Halloween, Phantom Stranger"
Week 26: "John Henry Ass"
Week 27: "the Purple Stretchboy"
Week 28: "I took his clothes away"

Week 29: "get thee behind me, fantastic super energies"
Week 30: "the psychotically idle rich"
Week 31: "barking out the morse code for J-U-N-K"
Week 32: "Superman, or if we can't get him, Vartox"
Week 33: "dear reader, you bastard"
Week 34: "all because you thought Christmas was rubbish"
Week 35: "get back in the sky, you scum"
Week 36: "it's only a space feeling"
Week 37: "maggot-infested scum"
Week 38: "this will be my last communication"
Week 39: "Time Magazine"
Week 40: "there lies an obese bitch"
Week 41: "that's merely the most, fellows"
Week 42: "when he coughs it sounds like the words 'evil plans'"
Week 43: "we're two different people"
Week 44: "more like the Egyptian Scotty Morris"
Week 45: "mild hgnitivolek sauce"
Week 46: "the waiter of vengeance"
Week 47: "Linkin Biscuit"
Week 48: "no funny bit in this episode"
Week 49: "Morgan Freeman Narratodroid"
Week 50: "shocked beyond reason"
Week 51: "Willis War One"
Week 52: "And then a giant alien butterfly ate him."

And now I finally get to break character:

Thanks to everybody who read through this little experiment, even at the end when the lead character was dead in a stone tower and I was forced to rely on the significantly less funny supporting cast.

Thanks especially to anyone who improved the blog by commenting in character (Jean Loring, who started the trend, Green Arrow, Booster/Skeets, Kon-El, Wonder Girl - to name but a few) and didn't try to turn it into their own private MMORPG (Swamp Thing).

And thanks to the writers of 52 for having Ralph push that guy out of his wheelchair which was hilarious.

Shameless Plugging Dept: You can find me at Re:Retro, the retro games blog, in the pages of 2000AD and the Judge Dredd Megazine, in bookstores everywhere come June (August for non-UK folk) and at the International Comic Expo in Bristol this coming weekend. Also, Dr Willis will be available for a chat on Monday evening in the Union server on City Of Villains, if you like that sort of thing.

Well, that was fun.

Let's do it all again soon, eh?

Ladies and Gentlemen, you have been reading...


THE DIARY OF RALPH DIBNY

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Heaven Can Suck It

Seriously, it's the most boring place in the world. I mean, technically it's not in the world, but still. At least in Hell you got a decent cup of coffee. Jesus.

I couldn't even say Jesus out loud because every time I did this beardy middle-eastern-looking guy called Yeshua would pop up and ask if I wanted anything. Seriously, the guy had this pager and every time somebody in the world said 'Jesus Christ' the thing went off, so there was this constant beeping any time he was around, and considering he was by his very nature everywhere at once, that was pretty goddamn constant. And then half the time it's somebody stubbing their toe and the other half it's somebody wanting him to blow up an abortion clinic or typhoon the gays or something.

Yesh had his work cut out for him without all that. "Seriously," he'd say, "it used to be in the middle ages that people would work their entire lives in a muddy swamp or a patch of desert or something, living off insects or being whipped daily by their fuedal lord and stuff. So we get them up here and put them to work on the right hand of Dad singing hosannas and they're so happy to not have bubonic plague anymore that doing some fine choral numbers for all eternity seems like everlasting bliss, you dig? But now we've got all the spoilt assholes who want to bring their SUVs and their plasma screen TVs so they can watch all the sinners frying in Hell and they ask who I am, and I tell them, and they say no, he was a white guy, you're a goddamn ay-rab terrorist by the look of ya, and then they all want to meet Elvis, and they can't, because he's still alive, so they start saying about how they're going to take their business elsewhere and convert to Zoroastrianism so then I have to dress up as Elvis and nobody's satisfied because I'm a goddamn ay-rab terrorist apparently. Did you want a coffee or something? I'm buying."

But we never took him up on it. Because the coffee in Heaven sucks.

So basically I figured it was time I got back into the detective game, seeing as I am the greatest detective who ever lived, and Sue wanted to become a ghost because that's a lot more interesting than just being dead, plus you get to meet people and travel around the world if you're haunting a cruise ship or something. So we decided to combine the two.

Yeshua wasn't having any of it, needless to say. Apparently the Spectre is already being a dead ghost detective because the Spectre is a god damned hog and just being a grim spirit of vengeance isn't enough for him. So Yesh was saying that if we went off and had fun being ghosts, everybody would want to do it and we were nice people and everything or Sue was at least but he really couldn't make an exception. We'd be staying on this side of the veil for all eternity and that was all there was to it.

And then a giant alien butterfly ate him.

Seriously, this gigantic space insect just erupted into Heaven and ate Jesus. And then he started eating Heaven for good measure until he was chased away by what looked suspiciously like Booster Gold. Both of him. So thanks for destroying Heaven, Booster. I'm sure when you're called to account in the next world for being an incredible famewhore your callous murder by space butterfly of the enchanted saviour prince of legend won't count against you. Much.

Anyway, we escaped in the confusion and found ourselves in a post-nuclear hellscape ruled by men in suits of armor riding gigantic dogs, which apparently is Earth-17. It turned out that because of Sue's love of eighties electronica she had in fact gone to Heaven-17 - unfortunately Heaven 17 themselves were not there as they had given in to Temptation and were at that very moment being tormented by adorable creatures with unacceptable features. In Hell. Which I understand is just the high cost of loving.

Anyway, we finally got back to Earth on the Friday.

Obviously I wasn't expecting to have to engage my therapist in a life-and-death struggle for the fate of the planet. And I definitely wasn't expecting to have to do it in a kindergarten classroom. I mean, no sooner had I used my ghostly powers to look in on what Dr Willis was up to - voyeurism being the number one pasttime of all ghosts and Superman - then I found him boring up through the floor of a playschool in some kind of fire-spouting burrowing machine, with an army of half-pirhana half-spider monsters and the most bizarre outfit you ever saw. I mean, Dr Willis isn't a thin guy. A skintight green and purple outfit covered with skulls and a giant 'W' isn't going to suit him. And the really wierd thing was that he was answering his comments at the time. There is such a thing as internet addiction, Dr Willis.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, he was all like, "my bomb will destroy the world!!!", and I was all like "must... use... poltergeist power!!!!" and then I clocked him one and Sue beat up his Giant Scorpirhana Queen before it could birth a new generation of criminal fish-scorpions who liked to rob banks and then I said something like "looks like this mystery had a real 'sting' in the 'tail'!!!!!" and Sue said that was totally my coolest mystery-solving end line ever. And then I kicked Dr Willis really hard in the face until he started crying. It was unbelievably awesome.

Anyway, now that I'm dead and I beat up my therapist and sent him to jail for trying to destroy Planet Earth with a huge bomb and an army of half-insect pirhanas, I guess I can finish off this journal. I am completely cured, after all, as Doctor Willis's face will be happy to tell you, particularly the back teeth I have in a little jar in my trophy room.

So I guess this is it.

Although I should mention there was one more wierd thing that happened on Friday. After we'd beaten Dr Willis like a red-headed stepchild we went to get coffee, and when we came back for the press conference, we stumbled into something out of a nightmare. A nightmarish nightmare.

Just before Willis had burrowed up through the earth in his Infernodrill Tank, the children in that classroom had all taken out their pads and crayons and started drawing something - something I hoped I would never see again, but that seems destined to follow me into the grave itself. Every single one of those children drew the same awful apparition on that paper, and it's no wonder that poor teacher had hysterics and one of the cops blew their own head off while the other took sanctuary in a monastery.

I never thought I'd see Superboy's penis again.

But sketched in crayon it is more hideous than ever and must be fought at every turn. Clearly, while the terror of Superboy's engorged thang is looming over the world, there is no time for a detective, even a ghostly detective who just saved the entire planet from Robert Amersham Willis's dastardly schemes, to be sitting around blogging. Not when he could be sipping cappucinos in Milan, anyway. Also the guy at the internet cafe actually died of fear while I was writing this entry with my transparent ghost fingers, and I don't want too many of those on my conscience. Not unless I want to end up like Martyn Ware.

So at this final stage, before I say my last goodbye and float off into the sunset with my beatiful wife, I really should thank all my readers for putting up with me for this past year.

But I'm not going to because you can all suck it. Do you hear me? Suck it! You won't have Ralph Dibny to kick around anymore!

I am the world's greatest detective and Batman is a ho!

A HO!



Ralph William Dibny
1960-2007