Three Men And A Comic

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Three Men And A Comic

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Three Men And A Comic

Hurry, Mom! If we don’t get to the convention soon, all the good comics will be gone.

What do you care about good comics? All you ever buy is Casper the Wimpy Ghost.

I think it’s sad that you equate friendliness from wimpiness, and I hope it will keep you from ever achieving true popularity.

Well, you know what I think? I think Casper’s the ghost of Richie Rich.

Hey, they do look alike!

I wonder how Richie died?

Perhaps he realized how hollow the pursuit of money is, and took his own life.

Kids, could you lighten up a little?

Now, Radioactive Man: He rules! Never punches a bad guy without saying something cool.

He’s no wittier than the next superhero.

Oh, yeah? Look. He knocks a guy into the sun and says, “Hot enough for ya?”

I stand corrected.

We’re here!

Too bad we didn’t come dressed as popular cartoon characters.

This looks like a discount for…

Bartman!

Who are you supposed to be?

I’m Bartman!

Never heard of him. Full price.

Lousy rip off…

Is uh, this on?… Ahem, young people of Springfield: As your Mayor, I’d like to welcome you to our annual funny book convention, and thank you for pumping almost three hundred dollars into the local economy.

Your youthful high spirits have imparted a glow to this old war-horse. You might say I feel like Radiation Man!

That’s Radioactive Man, jerk!

I stand corrected… Well, have fun and be sure to clear out by six for the Shriners. Get that punk’s name. No one makes a fool out of Diamond Joe Quimby.

Excuse me, sir. Has anyone turned in a left Vulcan ear?

Let’s see, we’ve got a utility belt, a couple of tricorders, a light saber… Sorry, kid.

Hey, Bart-dude!

Hey, Otto-man! Oooh, what’s that?

My very own idea for a comic book, little man. It’s about a dude who drives a school bus by day, but by night, fights vampires in a post-apocalyptic warzone!

Cool!

C’mon, Bart. We’re going to see Buddy Hodges.

The guy who played Fallout Boy on TV?

Yep.

Wow, I guess he wasn’t killed in Vietnam.

Aaahh… These Laramie cigarettes give me the steady nerves I need to combat evil.

Gee whillikers, Radioactive Man. Wisht I was old enough to smoke Laramies.

Sorry, Fallout Boy, not until you’re sixteen.

Look out!

Will Radioactive Man act in time to save the earth?

Well, wasn’t that great?… Y’know, kids, I’m sure we’d all like to remember actor Dirk Richter for his portrayal of Radioactive Man, and not the sordid details of his final years, so let’s keep the questions tasteful, okay? Now how about a big welcome for Buddy “Fallout Boy” Hodges!

Any questions?

When Radioactive Man got injected with shrinking serum in issue two-thirty-four, how come his costume shrinks, too?

I am sure I don’t know. But I did just finish playing Rum Tum Tugger in the second national touring company of “Cats” – anybody see it?

Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Over here, Fallout Boy! Oh, oh, me… me… me… me, me.

Yes, you, the masked boy.

Do you think the ghost of Dirk Richter haunts the bordello where his bullet-riddled body was found?

Dirk Richter was a beautiful man. Can’t you little vultures leave him alone?

Hey, Radioactive Man number seventy-two! It’s the imaginary tale where Radioactive Man marries Larva Girl.

Wow! Number nine! That’s before Fallout Boy became his ward.

Tell you what. I’ll show you something very special if you promise to put your grubby little hands behind your back and keep ‘em there.

Behold!

Wow. Radioactive Man Number One.

None other.

I bet it’s worth a million bucks!

It is, my lad. But I’ll let you have it for a hundred because you remind me of me.

All I got is thirty.

Then you cannot have it.

But I must. Until this moment, I never knew why God put me on this earth, but now I know… to buy that comic book.

Your emotion is out of place here, son.

So, did you kids have fun?

Yeah, Mom! Guess what? For a dollar a man sold me thirty-five Caspers and a dozen Lois Lanes.

Ohhh.

I never knew what Superman saw in her. Give me Wonder Woman! And that golden lariat. She can tie me up any time.

Homer!

I was just kidding, Marge. Hey, what does everyone say to dinner at Krusty Burger? My treat!

All right, Homer. Whoa, you really are a sport, Dad, taking us out to a fine restaurant like Krusty Burger!

All right, what are you getting at?

I need a hundred dollars for a comic book.

A hundred bucks?! For a comic book? Who drew it, Micha-ma-langelo?

Oh please, Dad. I want this more than anything in the world.

Well, t.s.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No.

Please Dad.

No! Now, look, son, we all know that usually when you bug me like this, I give in, so I’m not mad at you for trying. It shows you’ve been paying attention. But we all know I’m not gonna give you a hundred dollars. Now are you gonna stop bugging me?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

No.

Are you?

Okay.

Hee hee, I win! In your face! Yeah! How do you like them apples? Woo hoo hoo!

Don’t gloat, Homer. You know, Bart, when I was your age, the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world was a Child-sized Electric Lightbulb Oven. My parents wouldn’t give me the money, so I went to my sisters, Patty and Selma…

We’ll give you half our allowance.

Uh-huh. But you have to be our slave.

Okay.

This gives us a lot more free time.

Uh-huh. Let’s take up smoking.

For months, I worked and worked, while my sisters smoked and smoked…

Venus… Oh, Venus…

We want those dress-shields hand-washed and drip-dried.

But the big day finally came. And because I’d worked for it, all those lightbulb-warmed treats always tasted extra-good.

So maybe a part-time job is the answer.

Aw, Mom, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’re already taking care of Maggie, and Lisa is such a handful –

She means you should get a job, stupid.

Me?

Get a job! Were they serious? I didn’t realize it at the time, but a little piece of my childhood had slipped away… forever.

Bart! What are you staring at?

Uh… nothing.

He didn’t say it, and neither did I, but at that moment my dad and I were closer than we ever…

Bart! Stop it!

Sorry.

“I NEED SOME MONEY / A LOT OF MONEY…” AHH

Empty bottles… empty bottles…

Hm… well, it’s practically empty.

Here you go, Apu.

Ooh, very good. Would you like the deposit defrayed from the cost of a Jumbo Cherry Squishie?

No, not today. I need the dime.

Oh, it is good to see you are learning a trade.

Ah-ha!

Americanize this, my good man.

Okey dokey.

All those coins were only worth three lousy cents?

Let the good times roll.

Oh, this is so humiliating… I feel like such a geek.

How’s it going, Bart?

Terrible. Cars slow down to laugh at me, but no one’s buying.

Maybe you need to play on their sympathies more. Lets see…

Ah ha, now you look pathetic.

Haw haw!

Lemonade sucks. I need a new product. Let’s see… … Ah!

Form a line, no crowding. Cheap beer and a sympathetic ear… Step right up.

Ah, Bart could you give me one on credit? I’m a little short this week.

Beat it.

Say, uh, you got a liquor license there, young fella?

Ugh, my dog ate it.

Gotta have a license to sell beer.

Say… writing all those tickets must make you guys thirsty. How about a couple on the house?

We-ell, seeing as how it’s a first offense…

I guess we can overlook this.

So long, officers. Uh-oh.

Hey, what’s all the –

My beer… my beer… my beautiful beer.

The poor boy is so desperate. He wants to earn money to buy a comic book.

A comic book! Oh, my, boys never change. Which one is it, “Nazi Smasher”?

I don’t think so.

Send him over to my house, I got a few chores he could do. He knows how to mix whitewash, don’t he?

Mrs. Glick?

Eh, you must be Burt Simpson! Well, you look like you’ve got a strong young back!

Would you like something to eat? I’ve got dried apricots… almond paste, sauerkraut candy.

No, thanks. Who’s that?

Oh, that’s my brother, Asa. He was killed in the Great War. Held a grenade too long.

This one’s for you Kaiser Bill. Special delivery from Uncle Sam and all the boys in D Company: Yeah! Johnny, Harrison, Brooklyn Bob and Reggie. Yeah, even Reggie. He ain’t so stuck-up once you get to know…

Here, have some ribbon candy. Boys love candy.

No, thanks.

Boys love candy.

Ugh, I think I’d rather just get to work, Ma’am.

We’ll start with a little light yard work. And when you’re done, you can have a nice barley pop.

I want you to clear out all the weeds. You do know which ones are weeds?

All of ‘em?

Good boy.

Now be careful with these. I’ll be inside watching my stories.

Ow!. . .Ow!

Jack, please. I’m married.

That must be what’s turning me on.

Oh… Stop it… some more.

Filthy, but genuinely arousing.

Finished.

Merciful heavens, you’re bleeding! I’ll get the iodine.

Now, don’t fidget.

Listen, lady, you don’t have to – YAAAUUUUGGGHHH!

They’ve never improved on iodine.

Hi, Mom.

Did you make any money?

Not yet, but at least I’m in a lot of pain.

Well, I think what you’re doing for Mrs. Glick is very nice. The poor old thing doesn’t have anybody.

There’s a reason.

The sludge certainly collects around those downspouts, don’t it?

I’ll sludge you, you old bat.

Today, we wash Beulah. Do you know what that is?

Some old lady thing, nobody’s heard about for fifty years?

No, it was my wedding dress, but then I dyed it black and it became my mourning dress.

Great story, lady.

Last night I dreamed I held you in my arms.

No! No, not the iodine! Burn the germs off with a torch, amputate my arm, but not the – YAAAUUUGGGHHH!

Well, it’s payday. I’ll wager you’ve been looking forward to this.

Oh, yes, ma’am!

Here we are.

Two quarters.

Two quarters?

You deserve every penny. You know, I’ve told a lot of my girlfriends about you and they have chores too.

Two quarters!

Bart, you didn’t say thank you.

Listen lady, I can leave without screaming, and I can leave without saying a bad word, but there’s no way that I am saying thank you.

You’re welcome. All right then, off you go, to spend it on penny whistles and moon pies.

Moon pies, my butt… Somebody oughta moon pie her…

What’s the problem, boy?

I’ve been bustin’ my hump all week for that withered old clam, and all I got was fifty cents.

Hey, when I was your age, fifty cents was a lot of money.

Really?

Nah.

Dad, I’ve done everything I could and I’ve only got thirty-five bucks. Ugh.. I am through with working. Working is for chumps.

Son, I’m proud of you. I was twice your age before I figured that out.

Can you let me have it for forty dollars?

Forty bucks? Forget it! You made me get off my stool for that?

It’s all I’ve got. I sold seeds. I visited my aunt in the nursing home. I fished a dime out of the sewer, for God’s sake!

No way. What do you want?

Can I have it for thirty-five?

No!… No!… Freakin’ kids. I do not need this, I’ve got a Masters degree in folklore and mythology.

Excuse me, do you have the Carl Yastrzemski baseball card from 1973, when he had big sideburns?

Show me the thirty bucks, because if you ain’t got it, I ain’t gettin’ off the stool.

Wait a minute, Martin. If you, Milhouse and I went in together, we could buy a copy of “Radioactive Man No. 1” right now!

Wow!

Here you go. “Muttonchop Yaz.”

I don’t want it.

Freakin’ kids!

Look, pal. We’ve got a hundred bucks and we’d like to buy “Radioactive Man No. 1”. So why don’t you just waddle over there and get it.

Yes sir.

Wow! Breathe it in, boys!

This is the stuff dreams are made of.

It smells like my grandpa.

Uh-oh, looks like rain. We better get this baby home.

Uh-oh.

Looks like you bought more than you bargained for.

My pants… caught on barbed wire… Good Lord Choke… an A-bomb!

Yaarrgh!

I’m becoming radioactive. From this day forward, I shall call myself Radioactive Man.

So that’s how it happened!

I would’ve thought being hit by an atomic bomb would have killed him.

Now you know better.

Turn the page, Bart.

Listen, you guys are welcome to come over and read it any time you like.

Why can’t we keep it at my house?

Your house? That’s crazy talk!

Well, the comic’s ours as much as it is yours.

How about this, guys. Bart can have it Mondays and Thursdays. Milhouse will get it Tuesdays and Fridays. And yours truly will take it Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Perfect.

Wait a minute. What about Sunday?

Yeah. What about Sunday?

Well, Sunday possession will be determined by a random number generator. I will take the digits one through three. Milhouse will have four through six. And Bart will have seven through nine.

Perfect.

Wait a minute. What about zero?

Yeah! What about zero?

Yeah.

Well, in the unlikely event of a zero, possession will be determined by “Rock, Scissor, Paper” competition. Best three out of five, how’s that?

Excellent! Well, today being Saturday, Gentlemen, I guess I’ll be taking my comic and…

Uh, uh, uh, ah nice try, Martin. It almost worked. But tonight, this comic book stays right here.

If the comic book stays right here, then so do I.

Me too!

Fine. We’re all going to stay here with the comic book. It’ll be like a sleep-over. Yeah, a sleep-over. That’s what pals do, right? Real friendly-like.

I want to read it again.

Nice try, mister.

Milhouse, the acids in your hands could damage the newsprint. We want to keep this comic forever, so the last one alive will have the honor of being buried with it.

What do you mean, the last one alive?

I meant years from now.

Yeah, sure you did.

Bart, don’t push him!

I knew it. You’re both against me! Well, nobody makes a sap out of Bartholemew J. Simpson.

I thought you boys might like some milk and microwave s’mores.

Thank you, Mrs. Simpson.

Sweet dreams, boys.

One more step and you’re a dead man.

I have to go to the bathroom, Bart.

Yeah, right, so do I, but you don’t see me gettin’ up.

Hey, what’s going on?

Our dear friend Martin was trying to steal the comic book.

Let’s tie him up!

Bart, is this how you treat all your guests?

Quiet, Piggy, or we’ll stick an apple in your mouth. We can’t take any chances. We’ll have to take turns watching him.

Okay. I’ll go first.

Oh, so that’s your little game. Let old Bart get nice and drowsy, then, when his back is turned… wham!

Well, it is not going to happen, see?

You’re going crazy, Bart. I’m telling your mom!

Hey Martin, tell him what we do with squealers.

I don’t know. Is it worse than what you do with people that have to go to the bathroom?

You can’t stop me.

The hell I can’t!

Homer, it’s really coming down. Could you check on the boys?

They’re fine.

Bart, the comic!

Don’t let go of me Bart!

Milhouse, it’s not that far to the ground. And the rain has probably softened it up a bit.

No, Bart! No!

You know, if you guys hadn’t tied me up, I could be saving the comic as we speak.

Shut up! Shut up!

Help me, Bart! I didn’t even want the comic. I wanted Carl Yastrzemski with the big side-burns.

Boys, you better come in the house. You don’t want to get the sniffles.

Aw, Mom.

Now come on… You can play your little tie-up game inside. I’ve got some cocoa on the stove. Who wants imitation marshmallows?

I’d raise my hand, Mrs. Simpson, if I could.

It’s no use, fellows. Another comic book has returned to the earth from whence it came.

We worked so hard and now it’s all gone… We ended up with nothing because the three of us can’t share.

What’s your point?

Nothing. It just kind of ticks me off.

Well, the world is safe again… but for how long?

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