A Super Hero is going home on the local at 3:45 on a cold wet Friday morning. A bleeping long night of fighting crime, and dealing with them evil incompetent jerks from the FBI.
Aw crap wot'a night.
All our hero wants to do is get the hell out'a the ridiculous costume the "Super Persons Union" makes her wear. Shower the stink of the street off of her drink heavily, and pass out.
Yeah it was the end of another swell evening in "Hell's Shit House". The rain washed the night's toll of blood guts down to the dead river'n out to sea where mutant fish devour it with glee.
'But hey the cops were paid off the bad guys dead diamonds'n cash exchanged hands everybody that mattered got their taste, and all was well with the world.
"John Q" tucked nice'n snug in his bed none the wiser of the happy mayhem that stews right under his taxpaying nose.
Our Hero like I sez is taking the damned local home...takes two frigging hours. What the hell. Another night another head in a bucket.
Tomorrow is another day with dirty cops shitty streets getting a cut, and evil maniacs to bring down...ain't we got fun.
Stay Tuned.
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