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And now here's yesterday's scheduled silly thing, for which I have just now given everyone the required backstory as well as a 'probably not worksafe' warning.
“Huh,” said the thug, slapping at the green bubble carrying him through the sky. “That didn’t work.”
“Shut up,” said his partner. He was the brains of the operation, which explained a lot.
“I don’t know what went wrong,” said the thug. “The kidnapped monkey scam always works on me…”
“Moan!” said the soon to be ex-city councilwoman, who felt she wasn’t contributing much to the conversation.
“Stop talking!” said the self-described mastermind.
“All of you, stop talking,” said Alan Scott, flying ahead. The wind pushed his cape aside and flattened his pants against his buttocks. The as yet not publicly disgraced councilwoman watched the view for a while, and then spoke to the mastermind.
“You know what they say about him?”
“What?” The councilwoman whispered in his ear. He stared at her. “Really?”
A minute later, the thug was frowning slightly more thoughtfully than usual, although that wasn’t very difficult. “Why me?” he said.
“Because I’m certainly not equipped,” said the councilwoman.
“Because I’m paying you,” said the mastermind.
“You’re not. We’re going to jail.”
“Yes,” sighed the mastermind. “But if this works, we won’t have to.”
The thug considered this. It took a few minutes.
“And I’ll get paid?” he eventually said.
“Not for this job,” said the mastermind. “The damn monkey ran away with the cash. But we could get other jobs, after.”
“It’s worth a try,” said the councilwoman.
“All right,” said the thug, after another lengthy pause. He began to fumble with his belt...
Alan touched down in front of the police station, and turned back to regard his captives.
“Good God, man!” he said. “What are you doing?”
The thug stopped pumping his erection and turned to the Green Lantern. He brandished his dick like a weapon.
The mastermind cleared his throat. “Your willpower ring may be enough against, I don’t know, aliens and Superman and stuff, but you will be overcome when faced with this ten inch log of hard! America-grown! Wood!”
He pointed towards the thug, who was muttering “Eleven inches, eleven” under his breath. The Green Lantern didn’t seem to be overcome just yet (although that expression of distaste might be a tell for panic or wild desire or however it was supposed to work) so he added some manic laughter for good effect.
“Quick,” hissed the councilwoman. “Break down the energy field.”
The thug obediently took a couple lumbering steps forward, and pressed his dick against the transparent green wall. The wall remained.
“It feels… tingly,” he said.
Alan pinched the bridge of his nose. He rolled the green energy into thick ropes, secured his prisoners to the nearest lamppost, and took to the air again.
The mastermind glared at the councilwoman, who shrugged.
“I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have trusted the monkey,” suggested the thug.
“Oh, shut up.”
After a bit, two police officers came outside for their break. They looked at the green-wrapped offenders, and then at the small pile of men’s work clothes beside them.
“The old Green Lantern again?” said the younger cop.
“Lookth Likth,” said his partner, taking a bite of a donut.
“You know,” he said. “I don’t think any of the capes hand us more naked perps than him. Not even the ones that prance about in leather underwear.”
“Yop,” said his partner, taking a bite of a donut. “He should really get a new gag. People will start to wonder.”
“Huh,” said the thug, slapping at the green bubble carrying him through the sky. “That didn’t work.”
“Shut up,” said his partner. He was the brains of the operation, which explained a lot.
“I don’t know what went wrong,” said the thug. “The kidnapped monkey scam always works on me…”
“Moan!” said the soon to be ex-city councilwoman, who felt she wasn’t contributing much to the conversation.
“Stop talking!” said the self-described mastermind.
“All of you, stop talking,” said Alan Scott, flying ahead. The wind pushed his cape aside and flattened his pants against his buttocks. The as yet not publicly disgraced councilwoman watched the view for a while, and then spoke to the mastermind.
“You know what they say about him?”
“What?” The councilwoman whispered in his ear. He stared at her. “Really?”
A minute later, the thug was frowning slightly more thoughtfully than usual, although that wasn’t very difficult. “Why me?” he said.
“Because I’m certainly not equipped,” said the councilwoman.
“Because I’m paying you,” said the mastermind.
“You’re not. We’re going to jail.”
“Yes,” sighed the mastermind. “But if this works, we won’t have to.”
The thug considered this. It took a few minutes.
“And I’ll get paid?” he eventually said.
“Not for this job,” said the mastermind. “The damn monkey ran away with the cash. But we could get other jobs, after.”
“It’s worth a try,” said the councilwoman.
“All right,” said the thug, after another lengthy pause. He began to fumble with his belt...
Alan touched down in front of the police station, and turned back to regard his captives.
“Good God, man!” he said. “What are you doing?”
The thug stopped pumping his erection and turned to the Green Lantern. He brandished his dick like a weapon.
The mastermind cleared his throat. “Your willpower ring may be enough against, I don’t know, aliens and Superman and stuff, but you will be overcome when faced with this ten inch log of hard! America-grown! Wood!”
He pointed towards the thug, who was muttering “Eleven inches, eleven” under his breath. The Green Lantern didn’t seem to be overcome just yet (although that expression of distaste might be a tell for panic or wild desire or however it was supposed to work) so he added some manic laughter for good effect.
“Quick,” hissed the councilwoman. “Break down the energy field.”
The thug obediently took a couple lumbering steps forward, and pressed his dick against the transparent green wall. The wall remained.
“It feels… tingly,” he said.
Alan pinched the bridge of his nose. He rolled the green energy into thick ropes, secured his prisoners to the nearest lamppost, and took to the air again.
The mastermind glared at the councilwoman, who shrugged.
“I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have trusted the monkey,” suggested the thug.
“Oh, shut up.”
After a bit, two police officers came outside for their break. They looked at the green-wrapped offenders, and then at the small pile of men’s work clothes beside them.
“The old Green Lantern again?” said the younger cop.
“Lookth Likth,” said his partner, taking a bite of a donut.
“You know,” he said. “I don’t think any of the capes hand us more naked perps than him. Not even the ones that prance about in leather underwear.”
“Yop,” said his partner, taking a bite of a donut. “He should really get a new gag. People will start to wonder.”
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Now there's something to wake up to on a Sunday morning.
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myyour fault, you know. IIRC, you prodded me to this(a v. long time ago, but).From:
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All I can think of now is an army of optimistic warriors attacking poor Alan with their hard penises. And what the JSA would say...:D
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I remember YOU being the one who thought of it.
In any case... I remember that YOU WERE NOT HELPING. (Or maybe that should be 'you were helping.') And I'm sure it was your idea that there should be fic.
There's only one thing for it, you know. You have to write Alan Scott in Army of the Unclad. *plays creepy music, stolen either from a low budget horror or a low budget porn movie, the reader may decide*
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*offers Alan a cookie, the poor guy*
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Here via crack_van, and this is just... Fabulous!
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Nothing much to say except that I had to turn away from my computer twice to break down into a fit of giggles. Poor Alan.
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Also Alan, though sometimes it is hard to tell....