In the middle of the I.R.S. audit.
- “We’re somewhat concerned about these entries here. Where does this social insurance number come in?”
- “Ahem. Hmm. How do you mean?” Ohshitohshitohshitohshit!
My only excuse is that I come from a planet where they don’t have preview. Ye gods that is unreadable.
Flying around a city and hitting a lamp post, getting knocked out from it and having your wallet stolen.
Having your supercar break down and having to abandon it on the side of the road where the police eventually trace it back to your true identity.
Head Ninja, that story just won a Pulitzer in my universe. Bravo!
I saw NOTHING!
No… there is no need to check my bank accounts… well… ummmm… ok… yes, these are all of them… nope… nothing offshore…
Your secret identity is taken to the hospital, and not only does the emergency room staff discover you are wearing your super costume underneath your regular clothes, but it’s dirty and has holes in it.
Next time, maybe you’ll listen to your mother.
In the bathroom, you get caught in your zipper, and you have to call the paramedics, who find your costume underneath your clothes.
You get super drunk at the office party and super puke.
OR
Somebody walks in on you after you’ve spun your food in webbing, hung it from the ceilling, and as you’re sucking it dry.
I think having Alfred bringing your Babe du Jour into the Batcave unannounced while you’re working uncowled on the Batcomputer would pretty much suck…
:: RUMBLE ::
Perry: My God, what was that?
Lois: It felt like an earthquake!
Jimmy: Gosh!
:: RUMBLE ::
Perry: Good God, that came from … from Clarke!
Superman: Uh, no it didn’t.
Lois: I heard it – no I felt it! That was you!
Superman: Oh, uh, well, I tried this new burrito place last night …*
Jimmy: Gosh!
And then it happens: The Superfart.
-
- Issue 94223247432957321, where Lex Luthor sprinkled Kryptonite dust in the Superburrito.
Who’s your Batman! Who’s your Batman!
What? Why’d you stop? No! I said ‘who’s your bad man’.
Um.
I love you.
After reading Top Ten by Alan Moore, this no longer has the power to make me laugh.
A Batman look-alike is unmasked by the police as a sadistic child-abuser, as is that universe’s version of the Justice League, who are actually a paedophile ring.
Her boss from her professional day job walks in just as Stripperella takes the stage. He couldn’t place her at first, those black rimmed glasses and button up shirts had always tricked him into thinking she was just an ordinary office assistant. As her cartoon-like proportions popped out of her dress and she sauntered around the pole, they made eye contact. She didn’t know whether to be mortified or keep going, he didn’t know if he could look away…
To be continued…
I’m thinking of some kinda’ Pee Wee Herman storyline here.
Superhero gets caught by police in a Super-X rated movie place. But this time it’s more than just a civilian identity that gets -um- “exposed.”
Somebody help me flesh out (Oooops!) the details. I’m thinking that someone like Supes, or anyone with super-speed could get out of it. Anyone have an idea which other super-dudes WOULD BE good candidates? And pick one? And complete the essential plot?
TBJ
Along those lines, walking out of a restroom with toilet paper hanging out of your pants? (Female preferred.)
OR… OR…
Or you’re the class nerd in your secret ID. And to go with your (secret) ATOMIC VISION, you get an ATOMIC W-
… You know the rest.
True Blue Jack
:: wildly applauds HeadNinja :: Bravo!
Asking a sales clerk in the supermarket for krypronite-free shampoo. Sales Clerk puts two and two together…
Fantastic Four member making out with girlfriend, while in a clinch absentmindedly mutters, “oh baby, you turn my flame on”…
mm
Having your civilian clothes shot off in front of your coworkers by a bunch of flying, machine gun-toting puppets would be pretty darn embarassing, don’tcha think…?
If Batman had started this in the 1940’s when he was 20, that would make him in his 80’s now.
Next stop: Anna Nicole Smith
One Dark Night on the Cityopolishamvilletown skyline:
SuperMaskedUltimateGuy: For the last time, vile miscreant, put down that nuclear reactor before somebody gets hurt!
Baron Anathemax von Dread: You’re too late this time, drippy. The Directorate of Fear™ has won!
Unidentified Voice: Howie…Howie…
SMUG: Oh, no…
BVD: What’s that? Who’s there?
SMUG: Uh, nothing. Nobody.
UV: Howie…it’s dinnertime…
BVD: It sounds like somebody’s mother.
SMUG: Um, yeah, probably. Listen, you were talking about your evil plan –
BVD: Why would some kid’s mom be calling him to dinner from the top of a steel transmitting tower in an electrical storm?
SMUG: 'Cause moms are stupid, that’s why!
BVD: What?
UV: I heard that!
SMUG: Look, just never mind. Hey, you wanna shoot me with your new incineray? I won’t even duck, I promise.
UV: Howard Phineas Jeremy Strongbranch, you get off that scaffolding and come home to dinner this instant!
BVD: Hey, that’s your mom, isn’t it … Howard?
SMUG: Don’t call me that.
SMUGMom: We’re having creamed chipped beef on toast – now don’t you let it get cold!
SMUG: Oh, gag.
BVD: I kinda like creamed chipped beef…Howard.
SMUG: I’m warning you, don’t call me that.
BVD: I kinda like the looks of your mom, too,* Howard * …
SMUG: You’re so gonna get it now. (Attacks; they grapple)
SMUGMom: Howard, you stop picking on your friend! Can’t you see he’s got a nuclear reactor?
BVD: (In a headlock) Oh, man, I can’t believe this–
SMUG: (Applying super-noogie) What?
BVD: Ow! Hee-hee…it’s your mom…she–ow!
SMUG: (Suspending super-noogie) She what?
BVD: Dude, she totally sewed your name into the lining of your cape.
SMUG: Oh, fudge!