Bull**** Bulletin

Dear friends,

Oh, God. Here we all are again, about to embark on another voyage through the startling mind of HPB, or whatever's he's called. Where do his ideas come from? What drives his quest for the eternal truths of human existence? And why does he keep asking me to write these damned
introductions to his stories?

Well, anyway, those of you tired of the superbly resonant and well-crafted superhero tales which form such an important part of modern pop-culture will find this latest offering right up your alleyway. It doesn't have any dinosaurs in it either.

Yes, more reasonable than the Punisher, hairier than that ginger chick from Gen-13, and a lot less likely to pop up on a cinema screen than Metamorpho the Element Man, it's... oh, read the thing for
yourselves.

Ex cathedra!

Awix

Joe-Smith in... 'The Intolerable...'

'I did it!' she smiled, rising slightly smugly from the microscope to face her student

sidekick. Her lab cape rustled slightly.

Late-Knight asked an '...?' as he lifted his tired head from the clip-board doubling as his

pillow.

'With my power to genetically modify products into food, I have created this!'

Professor Abandern held up a bar of chocolate. 'Eating just one piece will fill you up for the

rest of the afternoon! It's untested so I shall have to find someone..!' Abandern thought for a

split second. 'Of course! The Man With The Unmeasurable Stomach! The Consumer!

'But tomorrow that will have to be!' Handing the chocolate over to Late-Knight she added,

'Put this in the fridge until then!'

Tired and probably with some kind of exam in the morning, the bleary-eyed student took the bar

and deposited it in what would in most labs have been an overly large metallic fridge.
With

coffee in hand, the light switch was flicked and off staggered Late-Knight.

Behind him the 'fridge' sat in its own illuminating green hue...

Midday sunlight shone through the skyscrapers, past the busy superhero traffic between them,

and onto a poster in NM City's drug rehab centre.

Using the poster as an excuse to avoid looking at the small group of superheroes sat in a circle

around him, Averageboy hid his guilt.
The place was only being used to help conceal the

suspicious activities of his alter-ego, Joe-Smith. This alter-ego had come about following an incident

involving a truck causing him to lose his fantastically average powers¹. Suggesting to his Aunt Maydie that he was addicted to drugs was the most

plausible excuse the teenager had to get out of he house.

He owed it to his grandfather Uncle Doomed-to-die-significantly who died, supremely

embarrassingly, of old age one month earlier. This refuge was the last place Averageboy had talked

to the elder - on bad terms at that - which made him feel somehow

responsible².

'--I will find this 'Age' that murdered my grandfather...!' finished Average who sat down.

That exclamation was a struggle. The last month had brought about a steady decline in what little

was left of him. Joe-Smith was more in him now than ever but the mark was needed to keep

up the pretence or risk revealing the secret identity under his mask.

'Averageboy-- ' began Count Zillor, group leader and reformed super-villain, '-age

finds us all! Not one of us will be here forever!'

'I will!' protested Immortia, waving her hand.

Average looked. 'Then I shall wait for him to come to me.. *NNGH* !'
And in the meantime, he thought to himself - another product of the past thirty days

- I'll make everything fine like it should have been when you said it was, Grandpa ...

Doomed-to-die-significantly.

'--What can I say?' rambled The Rush opposite our hero. 'One pill and ZOOM! I just

can't stop takin' them! It's my only weakness!' In the distance at least one evil genius laughed

manically, along with several intellectual-property infringement lawyers who scented easy

money.

A phone ringing sent the entire group bar Averageboy running and flying from their seats to a

line of red phones. Average clutched his vibrating pocket. In some ways he really was just a typical

teenage boy.

'I have to go!' he yelled and swooped from the window into his grandfather's old

Signifi-Car, speeding away. This left the others bellowing 'Yes mayor?' to empty receivers.

In the sky, the superhero traffic was too dense to see the streets below as the Signifi-Car's

passenger was hurriedly removing his mask and tights to reveal the T-Shirt and jeans of -

Joe-Smith!
Joe-Smith grabbed the mobile phone from his pocket.

'Yeah... Uh-huh... I'm on my way now...' He looked up, 'Just passed Jak Kerb Street...

Okay then... See you in a few minutes... Bye.'

Close to the destination, and parking the Signifi-Car in a conveniently placed garage, Joe-Smith

scaled the nearest tall building with metal stairs.
He'd found that although his in-abilities gave

him the power to defeat villains which would otherwise spell doom for the most invincible of

superheroes, the lifestyle of Averageboy's former self could still have its perks.

Out of breath and staggering to the opposite ledge a top the 'scraper above his goal- The aptly

named Candy Store. He counted in his head: Three, two, one...

'Look! It's Joe-Smith!' cried Billy, the city's local child extra.

Clutching his chest Joe-Smith made his way through a small crowd and past some police cars to

the wide open double-doors of the Store.
Inside, as Joe-Smith got his breath back, the police

chief explained the situation.

'Oh it's terrible Joe-Smith!' crooned the chief in a no-doubt offensive Irish accent,

'Somethin' broke into the Store this mornin' and stole ev'rythin' from the glass cases! I've got

all the lads searchin' but we've got no leads!'

Joe-Smith scanned around the Store then followed a line of powdered sugar which exited

through the doors leaving a single set of footprints leading away.

'You're kidding right?'

HPB

12.08.04 Front Page

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