Sunday, April 4, 2010

Superdaddyman Takes on Oxycottontail - Part 1

It's a warm day in the city of Megalopolis, as the Global Warming that everyone has been threatening us with finally takes hold, and the icicles hanging off their noses while doing it have finally melted off. In this scene we find everyone's favorite super villain turned super hero enjoying this beautiful weather as any warden of a terrorist organization would, be sending them outside into it, and downloading top secret information {porn} on the super computer in the Superdaddycave. Yes we can only assume while the multitudes of followers of the Caped Pervader are out enjoying such things as “sunshine” and “warm air” the Superdaddyman uses this opportunity to force The Terrorist Organization Known as the Evils's {TOKE} go out and enjoy it for him while he uses the opportunity to enjoy such things as “peace” and “quiet” alone. Of course this is a Superdaddyman story so that couldn't possibly last long else there would be no need to open a word processor now would it?

You can't even imagine the feeling of “gloom” and “doom” that befalls our young {hey!} super hero when the red phone sitting under the pile of unpaid bills goes off. “Oh heavens to mergatroid!” the Superdaddyman thinks, partly because he knows this can't be good, and mostly because he can't find the damn thing under the pile. Fumbling through it all he finally grasps what feels like a receiver and holds it up to his ear, “You do know this is Easter and some of us actually celebrate these things don't you?” he proclaimed as he got the mouthpiece to the right side of his face.

An older, wanna be Frank Sinatra voice on the other end clears his throat and barks into the phone, “Do you know who I am? We need hookers and booze kid, what's the hold up?”

As the Superdaddyman sat there in awe with his mouth wide open, he did hear what sounded like a struggle on the other end, and a more familiar voice saying muffled, “Damnit Joe, I told you that this red phone is different than your red phone,” and a bit more of a struggle. Finally there was a humming of something that could only be a teleprompter, and we all know what that means, “Hello, this is The Obama,” the voice on the other end said as the Superdaddyman's forehead hit the desk. Partially happy that the idiot Vice POTUS isn't actually in charge yet, and mostly unhappy that the POTUS himself is about to concoct an adventure of some sort that will interfere with important stuff {downloading porn} that the Superdaddyman had planned for his free time. “You see, we have a bit of dilemma here, to which I have heard you might be able to solve!”

“It's not like you haven't called me before Mr President, perhaps you could turn the teleprompter off and we can get to the heart of your dilemma without all of the side rhetoric?” the Caped Pervader foolishly interjected at this point which created the stammering off teleprompter attempt at rhetoric. The Superdaddyman assessed the situation and decided it was just easier to take it all and go about his day, “I'm sorry sir, continue.”

As usual it took the president a minute to get back into the messianic teleprompter mode, but as usually happens when you leave him to do it, his dulcet tones came over the red phone and he continued, “Well you see, the American people have a new tragedy going on, which I just cannot support,” oh Geeze, “We have been monitoring the phone calls of a certain character known as 'The Easter Bunny' and we noticed that they had stopped last week,” he cleared his throat and shifted his head to the other teleprompter, you could almost hear that too. “Today when I woke up and noticed that I was missing my Charleston Chews, and Cadbury Cream Eggs that Michelle had promised that myself and our fat children could have because it was one of those Christian holidays I read about on my Blackberry, I was perplexed. You can see my dilemma can't you?” and of course the Superdaddyman could not until he realized that the Evils's hadn't been screaming through the Casa di Evils's worshiping the God of candy all day either.

“Oh My God!” the usually perceptive Superdaddyman exclaimed, as he heard a nervous laugh from the other end, “Someone kidnapped the Easter bunny! Have you kept tabs on those evil penguins?”

He heard the shuffling of paper, as the president was taken off topic yet again, and was being handed something, “Yes, the penguins are still in Gitmo making poetry and finger paintings about cutting off your head. It's part of our new program to get their artistic Mojo going so we can introduce them back into a friendly middle eastern society with practical skills that will ..”

“Ok I get it,” the Superdaddyman cut him short so that he could start working on actual solutions to the problem at hand. His concern over what new evil faces the poor people of Megalopolis weighs heavy on his shoulders as he adds, “You're not going to make me work with the Secretary of State are you?”

The president took a moment to get his papers in order and the teleprompter hum came back on. Oh God, here we go again, “The Hilary is off doing important work teaching basket weaving classes to some African nation screened for lack of telephones, but we have a better idea!” and you could hear the moan from the Superdaddyman at the use of the word “idea” from this man. He continued, “I am sending you my three best men!” he exclaimed self importantly, which made our hero sigh. “You already spoke to Joe Biden, but this is of the utmost seriousness so I am going to send along Rahm Emanuel, for the necessary planning and Max Baucus for his superior skill at hunting “Wabbits” as he calls them.”

The Superdaddyman sat there in abstract shock over the thought of being hampered with an idiot, the son of Satan, and a drunk. Of course at one time he would have called this another day at college, but this is serious business, “Mr. President, I am sure that you need these men on your end, and I can ..”

The president immediately cuts him off, “No no no, I insist. I realize that there are many children out there that are worried about this, like take this letter I was reading last night from the millions of children that write me about healthcare reform .. Dear Mr. The Obama .. My name is Jimmy and I had my feet cut off by a doctor that wanted to make money off of my diabetes ...”

The Superdaddyman immediately cuts him off before the monotone drawl draws him under some sort of spell, “It's ok, just send them along, and I'll be waiting out front,” and the Superdaddyman hung up the phone. How in the name of God is he going to deal with these three idiots all day, and maintain his sanity long enough to solve the Easter Bunny mystery? Hasn't he been down this road before? Does his ass look big in the Superdaddytights? There is only one conclusion to this whole ordeal that makes any sense. If the Superdaddyman is going to have to go through this torture then he is going to punish others along with him! It's time to recruit THE EVILS'S! .. To Be Continued