This is the part of the blog where I write about my day for those interested.
Many think that Aquaman’s ability to command the creatures of the sea is something magical, but it can be quantified scientifically. Like any other signal that goes through the air, it operates on a specific frequency. And when I know that frequency, Aquaman will die.
Reading up on how brains operate, I was able to limit down the possible frequencies in which Aquaman’s telepathy might operate. I then set a frequency scanner by those parameters.
“Dear, I’m heading out to stalk Aquaman.”
She reluctantly turned her attention away from her soap opera. “You still have the monkey to kill.”
“And die it shall, but the monkey I most want off my back right now is Aquaman. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“I’ll try to notice.” She looked back to her show and waved me away.
At the zoo, Aquaman’s CSI friend had left (I was careful; there was nothing to find), but Mr. Curry was still staring at the ashes of the monkey cages as if he could command them to give him answers. It was an obsession — and a very unhealthy once since it was going to cause me to kill him.
“Whatcha doin’?” My interrogator was a chubby child eating cotton candy. He stared at my frequency scanner with the incomprehension of a dog watching an opera.
“Did your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”
“No.”
“Probably because they hate you because you’re so fat and are hoping some stranger will do you in.” I noticed a nearby tank. “I’ll honor their wishes.” I snatched his cotton candy and tossed it into the tank.
“My candy!” He waddled towards the tank, leaned over the railing reaching for his cotton candy, and stretched his arms out for until gravity won over.
At the sound of the splash, I faded into nearby crowd. “A kid has fallen into the stingray tank!” a woman shouted.
Aquaman ran forward for the rescue. “Just stay still and they won’t hurt you,” he told the blubbering child. Stingrays were an extremely minor threat, but instinctively Aquaman must have told them to move out of the way, because they fled as he reached in.
And my scanner caught the signal. It wasn’t enough data to properly breakdown how his telepathy worked, but it was enough for my purposes. By the time Aquaman had used his super strength to lift the wet dumpling to safety, I was gone.
Enjoy this minor act of heroism, Aquaman, for it shall be your last.
Be careful when analyzing and modifying the signal, Frank. You do not want to attenuate the signal, amplify it or create sympathetic harmonic signals since these conceivably could make his telepathy stronger. It would be terrible if instead he gained new telepathic abilities.
Did you eat a lot of paint chips as a kid, Frank?
Frank, How can you wear Aquaman undies and do him in? That’s so cold…
“Frank, How can you wear Aquaman undies and do him in? That’s so cold…”
FrankJ wears Aquaman undies so he can fart on him and literally rub his face in it whenever he wants…Frank doesn’t wear them out of respect or idolization as is widely believed.
Heroism? What did AquaBenDoverMan do to the youngster once he “rescued” him? I’ll bet that wasn’t a pretty sight!
Oops.. Correction. That was Aquaman pajamas with feet.
Frank,
I think I’m suffering from a serious case of commenters block. I think the whole process of really having nothing constructive to say, but coming up with something inane to say anyway, when I could have just shut the F up about it anyway, is breaking down. Anyway Frank, I increasingly find that I’m not saying things I obviously shouldn’t say.
This has become such a serious problem that it’s disturbing the normal antagonism I normally attract from fellow commenters. For example it’s been months since anyone threatened my physical well being. It’s unusual that I hit a dry spell right when others seem to get threatened over nothing. OK, it’s not entirely true. An angry Arab threatened to rape my mother just this last week. I don’t really count it though as my mother is deceased. I did inform him that he would need to dig so please make provision for a shovel.
Frank, you have had recent experience with writers block. I’m wondering if you had any tips to help me snap out of my malaise. Otherwise, I will continue to languish and your comment section will be all the worse.
Note: I said malaise not mayonnaise. I’m not languishing in mayonnaise.
Shut up Neo-andertal, or I will threaten your physical well-being. Have some tuna with that mayonnaise. Live tuna. That way Frank could gather some more intelligence about Aquaman’s telepathy frequency. Then you can be a useful freak, instead of just a plain freak.
Better now?
I certainly hope this pretend antagonism helps. I don’t know you well enough for actual antagonism, sorry.
What’s with having some stand in named Larry tell me to shut up. I thought we had some sense of protocol around here.
Shut up indeed!
Meanwhile Franks I’ll advised tampering with Aquaman’s telepathic powers continues to have serious repercussions.
Using the word normal as an adjective twice in a single sentence is reaching a bit, isn’t it.
Why the obsession with Aquaman? I understand he is one of the lamest supers going out there. But he is far from the most annoying marine based so called “hero”. The truly evilest, the most mind numbing, is freakin Prince Namor the Sub-Mariner. Aquaman is probably is P.N.’s tool to get to you Frank. When a Mafia boss puts a hit on someone, does he do it himself? Wake up Frank, Aquaman is just Namor’s goomba. The conspiracy is deep, deep as the Marianas trench baby.