Scene: The Long Up Chuk Chinese-American Restaurant. The lights are low, and mostly red-ish. The Legion of all the Dooms is lounging comfortably in the sagging vinyl booths and battered banquet chairs in the back. A dark miasma of malice hangs in the air like the stench of last years second hand smoke.
An argument is going on.
“I’ll have a Singapore Sling, heavy on the Singapore.”
“Let’s call Evil Buddha and take out Good Hitler once and for all!”
“That never works. They just clone up a new one. Every. Fucking. Time.”
“Well, fudge a monkey. We need to p0wn some chumps! Halloween’s here. It’s time for mischief.“
“How about … we hand out chocolate covered brussel sprouts!”
“More better, The Communist Manifesto, hidden under tasty chocolate coatings!”
“Or we build The Not-So-Great Pumpkin!”
“Candy that causes hiccups!”
“White chocolate, and… ah god, Circus Peanuts!” <retching noises>
“Unhappy Meals. The special prize inside… Tax forms, heh heh.”
“Elephantiasis! In the water supply!”
“Gummy Bears, rock hard gummy bears…”
“Can the chin-music you sock monkeys!”
The bags under Secret Nixon’s eyes look extra dark tonight. “The NRA does more to torment children than we could. I say we stick the knife in deep. Deep in the sweaty little hearts of the Justice League of Justice. I say we take the battle to the enemy, on their own home turf!”
“Yes… We’re going bowling!“
Good Hitler politely borrowed from Jon Rosenberg.
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