Okay, so every night is TV night in the GLA HQ. Except when a supervillain shows up - or when Monkey Joe decides he's an electrician this week. Or when Cliff...does what he does. Tonight! Celebrity Poker starring everyone who isn't them.

"So how's the table of hot chicks doing?"

Why was she here. Oh, sweet dancing monkey Jesus on a cracker, why did she agree to this? Somewhere, there was an angry God (or god, demi-god or goddess- who knew what pantheon she'd pissed off!) laughing at Adri's latest bad decision ( Read more... )

THE END IS HERE!

The banner waves over the bank of cash registers. Behind them, precious cargo stacked in sealed crates. They can't sell any copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for another 4 hours, no matter how often kids dressed as Gryffindors and Hufflepuff's wipe their noses on the counter and beg ( Read more... )

A stupid space ship just landed on the lawn, and nobody let her on board! Again!

That's so lame.

Melody Guthrie stomps into her friend Andrea's room and flops down on her bed, belly first. "If the X-Men are back, that means Miss Green Genes is back, too. You heard what she said. You know what we have to do." She holds out her cellphone.

It's worse than 1968 out here.

The mercenaries at the Hellhouse are often itching for some kind of riot anyway, so when anarchy breaks out - you can bet these guys will be in on the action.

Fenway's taken a few heads off with his bat, and he's not even bothering to spout out his baseball lingo. He's just hitting. And hitting. And hitting.

"Oh, golly, Bertha! Look at that!" She points at the tiny figure of Sue Richards on their thrift-store TV set. "Mrs. Fantastic always looks so elegant!"

Monkey Joe waddles in carrying a massive bowl of popcorn on his back.

"Schucks. This is better than the Oscars. We actually know these people!"