(The following pages can be found in a Supergirl stickered notebook kept in Sam’s office. If you are reading this… well I guess bathroom material wasn’t ready available)
Dear Diary,
Daphne goes to Manhattan
And I stay here…
Since my love of my life for five minutes has zipped out with tubby and the Asian guy that leaves me, again here, and time to think. Perhaps while I muse if this comic thing is real, I can think about other women in my life, that could be real and in my life.
Sure I could do a top ten list of women, but that is cliche so instead. Not to mention that lingering want of Mendez sketchbook, not that I still believe any of this is real – I’m just saying well.. It’s time for a road trip.
I tell Frack to pack up the scooters and lets hit the road.
We make it up ot the only to be attacked by a overgrown Great Dane who won’t stop humping Frack, while this group of people in a green van are completely out of their mind – then they said they liked a good mystery, so we hopped in the van and less than thirty minutes later I pulled off the mask of the bad guy stealing paintings from a ‘haunted’ home and it was Mr. Hinkles… Apparently that was the thing they liked to do, so they grabbed me and Frack and tossed us down the road.
Before we knew it, we had made it to a man whom is considered a god by the nation.
Yet, he only smiles and tells us the Force is like duct tape and search for meaning of it there. Then I took it upon myself to hang out with his crew and he asked us to leave. Who knew R2D2 was also a trashcan.
Anyways it didn’t take long for us to eventually end up in New York swarmed by comic con and would be ‘heroes’ – the world was mixed with beautiful and ugly until the debate of Star Wars and Star Trek flooded out of control…
And I was saved by a Angel.
Granted he took my wallet and made me feel dirty there was still hope, if only I could find Frack, maybe he wasn’t eaten by Bigfoot. Yes this one.
And then just when things didn’t seem to be going my way I seen it like a shining beacon, Sam’s Comics. My Sam’s Comics.. home of safety and the occasional cosplayer.
I go inside and curl up to a army cot in the back, wondering where the meaning of this all began and I drifted off to sleep mumbling of ways to kill Parkman… well that and this..
Let’s save that for another day.
Ah Sam, I feel so dirty reading your diary dirty…and amused LOL
Sam,
Another work of art from you, as always.
A logged out Mrs. A. Petrelli
Dude. I don’t think I could like EVER date a comic book guy. At least not one who wears orange feathers like that.