on the Lam
all started out innocently enough. I swear! I showed up for work
in the Latverian Oval Office one day to report to my lord and
master, Dr. Doom, that exactly 1,548 kittens had just been killed
in his name in order to please thunder god, Thor, so that he
would not find it necessary to smite us again with his un-kitten-sacrificed
wrath. It was then that Victor Von Doom saw something that pleased
him. No, not my sweet (but supple) bod, but my rugged ninja shirt
that I had previously used to survive E3 2001 and many a drunken,
and possibly humiliating, debacle.
Ol' Vic said, "You, shitfucker, come hither. Doom wants
to see your lovely shirt. It pleases Doom to no end."
"Whoa, whoa, WHOA, lord Doom," said I. "I don't
think you fully understand just how cut-ass-rugged this Storm
Shadow ninja shirt truly is! Sure, at one point or another in
the past or in an alternate storyline you may have held the Infinity
Gauntlet in your wicked hand. And I'm pretty sure you know what
the Silver Sable feels like wrapped around your scarred and wrinkled
body. But you are NOT ready to feel unadulterated pleasure such
as this shirt can provide to the right wearer! NOBODY but the
Rossman is ready for that kind of kinkiness!"
Actually, I meant to say that, but Doom had already grabbed
me and begun to strip me of my most valued possession. I felt
more violated than Celine Dion's evil vibrator.
Doom sure is one aggressive
mother! He seemed pretty skilled in removing the clothing off
of the backs of squirming men.
At first I tried
to fight back with all the dirty tricks that I knew. But
Vic just kept pounding me down like the little bitch with the
broken foot that I was (and apparently he also wears a steel
cup to match his face). Then I tried some stalling tactics in
the hopes that Spider-Man or the Red Skull would somehow come
to my rescue or kill me before I was indignified further. No
It was only after
I squirted the rest of my strawberry-flavored body lube down
his mask's eye sockets that I was able to break free and run
and hide like an 11 year-old girl on crack. But where was I to
hide so that Lord Doom would never find me? Where could I be
sure that I would be safe from his ever pissed and all seeing