I made this form when I was an academic secretary, and updated it recently so it wouldn't look like it came off of a dot-matrix printer.
It's available as a 4-up letter-sized (8.5 x 11") PDF, via me.
.
The online
version of
the New Pals
Club Magazine.
As good as it
gets without ads!
Toon River Anthology, part 8
NO NAME*
[*in the Bandar tongue]
I was born to follow the proud destiny of my father
And his father, and his father, and all their fathers
All the way back to the first Phantom in 1536.
I trained rigorously for years, learning science,
Languages, literature, martial arts, armaments,
Just as my fathers had before me.
But our fathers could not teach us who to love,
Or teach a heart to weigh consequences,
And because my father followed his heart, rather than tradition,
I was not suitable for my own destiny. I was miscast.
Father seemed not to notice. Perhaps he was acting too,
Perhaps he was truly oblivious. I played my part.
He was pleased with me right up to the day of his death.
And then I did what I had to do. I looked around
And found another who could fill the role I couldn't,
And avenge my father's death.
I franchised my destiny. I gave my birthright to another
For the sake of the legend of the undying Phantom.
I found one, light-skinned, well-formed, strong, quick-thinking, ruthless.
Now his dynasty will continue the work my forefathers did.
Though I've grown fat and bald, I continue to advise him
Behind the scenes. It's best this way. After all,
Who could ever believe in the myth of the eternal Ghost
When confronted by an undersized half-Bandar
With a round head made to wear a lampshade?
originally published at the Comics Curmudgeon
.
“Yes, Superman. He was a clown who went bad. But I want to tell you: I’ve been a cop in this town for twenty years, and I never saw anything like it. He stood up on that roof, four stories above the street, and when he felt his balance going, he met the challenge, faced it like a true clown.And where were you, anyway, Man of Steel? Getting popcorn?
“His back was to the street. First he leaned in as far as he could, with his arms whirling like two windmills in a hurricane. Then he leaned back and those arms went even faster. Then his butt stuck out what seemed like a mile, and we could see he was going down.
“He went feet first! He went head first! He went butt first! He tried flapping his arms! He mimed like he was praying, on his knees and everything. He reached up and grabbed his hat and planted that tiny little thing back on his head. And it stayed! He pulled an itty-bitty umbrella out of somewhere and held it over himself until it turned inside out, and then he threw it away.
“Then he gave a big sigh. It was just as if you could hear what he was thinkin’. He shrugged his shoulders and looked sad and waved bye-bye. And he put on a brave little smile.
“And when he hit that street, he made the loudest HONK any of us ever heard. We were still clapping when you showed up.”