Movin' on out, to the south side...

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap. Now what am I sposed to do?

There was a shit-storm (eww) in City Hall today and the Mayor got impeached (remember, it’s not what you think it is). And along with that, those stupid politians went and froze his money and stuff which can’t be dethawed and means that I don’t have my super-swanky HQ anymore. And I have to move out. No more bar. No more ex-ball pit. No more self-installed fire pole.

Now Bongo and I are homeless like Crazy Leonard up the street. He’s always going on about some kinda alien invasion or somethin. Sayin that there gonna come and take out the worlds heroes and then make everyone slaves and stuff. I was worried for a second until he followed that up with he heard it from a horse name Jumbles and that he used to be Captain Megaton. Which is crazy because I don’t ever remember a Captain Megaton.

Anyhoo, Bongo and I are gonna go crash at the Why for as long as they’ll let us. I have to give them a fake name this time though. They won’t let good ol’ LC stay there after last time. But I have a good fake ID that says my name’s James Bond and I’m a “Federal Boobie Inspector”. I just hope that they hav a computer I can use to update yous guys, ‘cause the politians won’t let me take this one with me. Only what I brought in: Me, Bongo, a pair of dirty underpants, half a Cuban sandwich, a Mickey’s, and $7.37.

But I’m stealing the lamp from the hallway and the paddleball game from the living room.

You know, unless anybody's got a place I can crash for a little while...

LC

Gone...all gone.

My hair. It's all gone. I gots no more left on my head. Well, except for one eyebrow.

I um, I uh... I kinda accidentally not on purpose set my hair on fire. On accidental.

Yeah....so, um. I had to shave off what was left.

but, at least now I don't have to worry about getting gutter hair anymore when I wake up in strange places. but now girls can't run their fingers and toes through my hair anymore. Oooh, but they can rub my head. Heh heh. That could mean two things if you didn't get it. heh heh, that's funny.

So, no more hairs on my head. And I'm not gonna tells you how it happened either. It'll be a mystery an stuff.

LC

Bunnies. Why'd it have to be bunnies?

I guess that Easter is the opposite of Halloween. I mean when it comes to crime activity. Halloween is usually really quiet for some reason every year, crime-wise. But this year, Easter sure as hell wasn't.

I'm still really freakin' tired from all the bad guy busting up I was doing all day and all night. And my stomach hurts from all the chocolate bunnies and peeps I was confiscatiting and eating too.

It's not that there were too many bad guys out doin' their business yesterday, I can handle that. It's that they all decided to be "clever" or "original" and dress up like the Easter Bunny and do their dastardliness. And let me tell you, beeing seen beating the holy hell outta the Easter Bunny 37 times all across town does NOT improve your status PR-wise. And it will also get you a very not nice voicemail from your Boss and the chick who is his secretary too.

"Couldn't you have at least pulled off their bunny helmets to reveal that they were in fact, a huge revolting mutant or zombie-thing or whatever the heck you were pummeling BEFORE you went ballistic on it in front of a group of children in the middle of an Eater Egg hunt? You know what? Don't bother coming in to work tomorrow. I have enough of your messes to clean up already with the credit card and tanker wreckage, not to mention the City's investigation of all my...never mind. You're suspended! AGAIN!"

Quite frankly, no I couldn't. It made it a little more fun. I was already a little mad that the Easter Bunny didn't leave me any goodies or anything this morning at home. Heck, even back at the A.S.S. headquarters, I used to get a basket of stuff...

So I'm done with Easter. Next year, when Easter rolls around; I'm gonna post flyers telling bad guys that I'm gonna be in a really bad mood when it come around so they better just back off and stay home.

When's Halloween?

LC

Kick ass shirt for a kick ass superhero

It's no high-technical armor like Tony Stark has (he's Iron Man), but it's still pretty danged cool.




But the Mayor won't let me wear it on the job. He says it's unprofessional and has ties back to Mofo, SK and those guys. Guess I'll just wear it at home and maybe at the bar.

Thanks to my ex-sponsor Derek for making my shirt. That guy work less than I do.

LC

Way to go, Dog Blunder!

Ok, so that wasn't entirely the best idea i've ever had.

I was a little bored, what with not really being allowed to do a whole lot because the Mayor's still kinda pissed at me after my Veags trip. So I decided to get a partner to help me in some down-time crime fightin'. You know, so I could get back to my roots n stuff.

But, since I'm still kinda on the outs with the ASS guys, I needed to look a little closer to home. Well, in my home actually. Like right across the room. On the floor. next to the ball pit. The dog, is who I mean.

So I decided to go an' turn Bongo into my sidekick so I'd have somebody to pal around with when we're kickin' bad-guy butt. Just like one of my all time favorite heros, The Blue Falcon. Good ol' BF had his k9 companyun fightin' crime too: Dynomutt!

Well, despite Bongo looking all daring and swishbuckling in his new mask, booties, and cape...lets just say he's not real good at tracking down the bad guys. Or telling the diference between the bad guys and oh, say grandmas. Or even giving a rat's batoot that daddy's starting to sober up in the middle of a fight with "The Mandroid". Is it so hard to run to the store real quick-like and pick daddy up a sixer of Schlitz? Really? Is it?

But it all kinda worked out in the end. Bongo took off not long after I kicked Mandroid in the robo-junk (who makes robots with junks anyhoo?), and I finished my rounds. Of beer at the bar and of fightin crimes. I finally tracked Bongo down at ASS hedquarters where he was chewing the tires off of Mofo's bike. All though it was kinda no big loss really. What grown man rides a Schwin bike with one of those fake California plates that says "Bad Mofo" on it? Seriously. But I did feel bad for him. Just a little.

So now Bongo's be denoted back to being Bongo full time. He didn't even last long enough for me to come up with a clever code name for him.

LC

The house always SUCKS!

....goddamnit. I hate Vegas.

Well I do now anyways. I didn't at first, but I danged sure do now.

I get there and am welcomed in the air port by this hot-ass chick Cassandra who's there to drive me around. (still trying to get the Mayor to hire her to replace Marcus. no offense, Marcus) Then I get to the hotel and check into my sweet-ass penthouse (strangly no naked chicks in there like in the magazines). It has it's own bar. Let me repeat that. It. Has. It's. Own. Bar.

Luckily I was in Vegas for a few days to get my hands on the "artifact". I can't tell you how many times the Mayor told me and told me and re-told me that it was an "artifact" not "artichoke". Wait, yes I can: it was 37. I counted. And he wrote it on my hand. But that got smudged and looked kinda like azkaban or whatever the Harry Porter movie had in it. Sorry, back to the story of Vegas. Luckily I had a few days to get the doohickey, 'cause I woke up the next day in the bathtub with my underwear on my head and a duck in the toilet (he was cute I named him Pete). and I don't know how any of that happened.

Cassie came and got me from the room and took me off to meet the guys who had found the doodad, sorry "artifact" that the Mayor wanted. Some artifact. I expected a stone tablet, orb, or even some big metal glove. Nope. It was a necklace. Not even a big fancy blingged out rapper-style necklace. I looked like one of those ones that Mofo's favorite hippies make and sell at the flea market.

So I got the damn thing. And was told that i had to protect it and get it back to the Mayor in 1 peece. no problemo. 'Cept for what turned into what I like to call Liquid Courage's other dirty little habit.

Turns out I like to gamble. A whole freakin' lot.
and I suck at it.

A few suggestions to those of you who are gonna gamble:
-Don't double down on 20 and say "hit me" when playing blackjack.
-No game will ever win on a 69. none. And that's my lucky number, so I kept playing it. It's not my lucky number any more.
-Picking up and shaking the slot machines is not permitted.
-Neither is picking up and shaking the asshole next to you who just figured out your "tell" at poker.
-Bluffing with a pair of 2 and giggling never works.
-Shrimp cocktail, booze and rollercoasters don't go together.

But they do serve you free drinks while you're gambling, so that's a pretty good thing.

So I lost all the spending money I was given, all the money Cassie would let me borrow, maxed out the county credit card, and, um, well... um I lost the "artifact" too. Some old broad from Miami bought it for 50 bucks. Which I left as a tip for the cute waitress that was bringing me drinks. (she worked her fine ass off)

I managed to get the necklace back, but not after having to do a favor for the old lady from Miami. Which I'm not supposed to talk about as it involved some blackmail scheme.

Oh, and in Vegas they don't really like when you go around asking where the superhero fights are because you're broke and need money. They also don't like when you cuss them out when you find the fights and they won't let you fight because you "have a reputation in the fighting world". Guess that means I'm too good a fighter or somethng.

So I managed to square things away before leaving and Cassie took me to the airport. She said it was interesting and gave me kiss goodbye. (best. kiss. ever!) I've never been so happy to leave a city before and get home to those who love me. Well, at least like and put up with me.

The Mayor, while grateful I was able to bring the necklace back, was still all kinds of pissed at the whole money thing and said the Board was gonna have a field day with the whole credit card thing. I asked if they were gonna have cotton candy at their Field Day, and he made me go home.

So that's my trip to shitty Las Vegas. I hate it and I'm never going back. Aw, damnit! I forgot Pete. Maybe I can get Cassie to bring him out here so I don't have to go back.

LC

Eyes of the Tigers

Jeez, I guess somebody's been training.

I saw Mofo the other night. And I was actually kinda surprised. He beat the snot outta some guys that were easily twice his size. (so I guess slightly bigger than average)

Usually, when faced with superior size, numbers, smartness, or kick-assery; Mofo will use his patented "whoooooaaaaa!" move. Which means he turns tail and runs away while yelling "whoa!" He refers to it as a "tacktical retreat" or "evasive manuvers" or some nonsense. Shit Kicker calls it being a fucking chicken shit.

But this time, Mofo went all Captain Caveman on these guys. I mean, he just lost it, beat the crud outta them, and then tied them up with those plastic tie-up thingies. I'm not sure if he was leaving them for the cops, or for dead. I actually didn't let curiosity get the better of me on this one either... I got the fuck outta there. Seeing Mofo go all SK on somebody kinda freaked me out.
*shudder*

In other news, still no good words from The Mayor on his sitiation and my housing. Maybe I should start saving some of my money. But that can wait until after my trip to Vegas in a couple of days. The Mayor is sending me out there for a field trip to pick up some kind of artichoke or something.

LC
Vegas, baby! Vegas!