Don't Be a Cosplaya Hata

Ahoy, bitches! I'm a (mildly) superpowered and half-robotic 30th Century fashion designer and space pirate captain, so my life is pretty hectic. As one would imagine. So I jumped at Superman's offer to get away from the hubbub and foofarah of my job and enjoy some fun 'n' games.

I arrived in style, on the shoulders of the dinosaur I'd selected for my room.

It's a real beaut, too! It looks just like the one from that old Robotman story I'd read, only mechanical. I had my dear friend Storm Boy whip it up for me in between alcohol blackouts. And the best part is, it doubles as a valet! It can fit up to three of my steamer trunks in its mouth!

My room looked pretty good already. Sweet view, and it had a state-of-the-art sound system. Mostly subwoofers for some reason. But I'll take what I can get. (That's the pirate motto!) I just had to move the two giant earwig statues out of the way to make room for my dinosaur.

Alas, the fun ended when my preselected costume designer walked through the door. His hair looked like three different toupees battling from supremacy atop his scalp, and his outfit featured Roman sandals, fingerless gloves, a monocle, and terry cloth parachute pants. But what really gave me pause was his t-shirt. On the front it read "I Luv Firebrand." And on the back: "(No, the other one.)"

"I have your new costume all ready, Captain Blockade Boy, sir!" he gushed.

I patted his shoulder magnanimously. "At ease, sailor. Let's see what you whipped up for me."

He retrieved a suit bag from the closet. He was so flustered he kept dropped it a couple of times before he could get the zipper open. "Well, I figured since you're a pirate and all I should stick with a maritime theme..."

I nodded and smiled, trying to put the poor starstruck kid at ease. "Sounds good. Go on."

"And I heard about how you use a cane now because your robot legs are kind of stiff and clanky."

"The cane's mostly for looks, but yeah, the ol' gears do freeze up sometimes."

"Right! So I thought of something for that, too, plus it doubles as a weapon."

"Sounds good," I repeated, but this time I actually meant it. It occurred to me there was a glint of intelligence in his eyes. My concerns about his abilities began to fade.

He continued babbling: "And I heard that you've time-traveled to the 1940's, and I just happen to think that was the best time ever for superhero fashion... that and the 1990's, of course--!"

That's when I realized I was totally screwed. And sure enough, in the clumsy hands of that weirdo hack, ol' Brigadier Blockade -- the most feared high-fashion space pirate in the Seven Galaxies -- went from this:

To this:

Note the baggy, see-thru top! (Very 1940's.) And if that's not bad enough enough, the fit is atrocious. The crotch binds like a mofo (I was tempted to remove my magnetic codpiece but nobody wants to see that) and the left shoe is about two sizes bigger than the right. If I ever meet that kid again I'm going to straight up murder his ass.

But my first concern was completing this challenge. So I rolled up most of my fifty-foot-long ribbed cape into a ball and tucked it under my arm and shuffled (so my shoe wouldn't fall off) through Satan's embassy on Earth, a.k.a. "House Depot." (But the prices are amazing!)

The jeering started in the parking lot. "Nice beard, jackass!" I could hear a man holler. A woman's voice chimed in with "Yeah, who're you supposed to be, anyway?! C. Everett Koop?" I whipped my head around to see a couple loading their packages into a van with a license plate reading "HECKLE1". So they were two of the professional hecklers Superman had mentioned. Still, I thought it was odd that neither one had mentioned anything about my costume. I shuffled onward.

As I dragged myself past the paint counter, a young woman gave my mechanical legs a withering look. "Hey, jerk! When you get your legs caught in some foil dryer hose you're supposed to go a hospital, not a hardware store!" I was about to give her a piece of my mind when I noticed her name badge read "Hi! I am A Professional Heckler." But why hadn't she said anything about my costume?

I hobbled about the perimeter of the garden center. A trio of bikers who were appreciating an especially lush hydrangea glanced over at me. "Aw, hell!" guffawed the fattest one. "It's the Great Grape Ape!"

"It's got purple chest hair, too!" the shortest one giggled. "Or is that a bath mat?"

The youngest one snorted. "It stinks, dudes. Like dookie. Look, look, I think it's got a dingleberry caught in one o' them chest hairs."

I coolly appraised them. The first wore a t-shirt that read "Heckle's Angels", the second had a patch on his denim vest that read "Heckle Before Dishonor", and the third had jailhouse tattoos on all six(!) fingers of one hand, spelling out H-E-C-K-L-E.

The bikers stared back at me. "You got a problem?" the shortest one growled.

My cheeks were crimson with fury but I had my eyes on the prize. Although the contest rules were rather nebulous, I took this whole ordeal to be along the lines of a hazing and I was determined to keep my composure with these professional hecklers. "...Carry on," I said through gritted teeth.

And that's how the rest of my journey through the mega-store went, with the professional hecklers calling me out on everything but the costume and me trying to be all manful by just taking it when I really wanted to punch their faces in.

My nerves were on edge as I made it out the door, but I felt a small sense of accomplishment and the tension began to ebb from my neck. Just then another voice called out, "Excuse me, may I get your autograph?" I spun around and saw a strapping young man standing there, brandishing a small journal and a ballpoint pen. He held it out for me, eagerly. I couldn't see the word "heckle" anywhere.

I took the book and the pen. "You know who I am?"

"Oh, yeah! You're my favorite superhero! I have the comic books you appeared in! It's just a shame they didn't put your name in the title. If you ask me, you were the real star."

I jotted my signature down in his journal. "That's really nice of you. I've been having kind of a rough night here before you came along. Thanks, really!"

He gave me an aw-shucks grin and said, "No, thank you, Neptune Perkins!"

All the air went out of me. I squinted at him. "Are you a professional heckler?" I asked.

Apparently baffled, he answered, "Well, I've never even heard of one of those."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," I told him. And then I clobbered him into the sidewalk.

I managed to lam it back to the Hall of Justice, although I did lose my shoe about two seconds after I started running.

Can I take this stupid thing off now?

I am not insane!

That's why I'm in this crazy competition to prove I'm not insane just ask my advisor for the game the flying cat.

" You must kill them Yamcha kill them all! " No that won't help me win! Quiet you!

The guy I got to design me a costume. He had one glass eye, and the other one was lazy that and he seemed to missed the point completely.

And it's really tight in the special area. The people in the House or Home or whatever depot kept calling me things like "MC pee pants". Another one shouted " Hey loser the special people's baseball league is next door.

One guy had very little imagination. "Huh! Huh! You lost your girlfriend to a midget!"

Just what I didn't need a reminder of that bastard. So I broke his arm, and got kicked out of the store but I bought enough stuff. To make a good enough room I think.

The dinosaur Why do i have to get a stupid dinosaur? Moronic Superman! After searching the full day I hired Barney's really dumb cousin. Blarney. He keeps trying to teach me elementary school lessons wrong.

For the last time! 2 comes after 3! And no I won't let you hug me ! Stupid reptile!

Thousand Faces's Journal: Costume and Room

Before the competition begins, I need to explain who I am. Some of you may have heard of me, others may have no clue who I am. My name is “Thousand Faces” I am not a hero, nor am I a true shape shifter. I am a Nature Mage, a very strong one.

As with all nature mages, I have the power to control the elements of my natural environment. From having the power to control, or spread, disease, to being in command of the weather, I influence all aspects of nature. I manipulate plant life, causing growth and decay at will. The privilege of life is in my hands as I control curative abilities. Among the most majestic of my powers is the ability to shift the form of life itself. My preferred hand to hand weapons, when I have to stoop so low is to use a pair of tomahawks.

My original form, the one that I take most often, is a Seneca Maiden. But in my original form I am mute, and since I made a deal with Coyote, no matter what I change into, I have a problem, whether it be deaf, blind, paraplegic, et cetera. The other thing that follows me is my tattoo, it always moves, but it is always there.

The name I go by normally is Aurora Dawnsfire. It was the name given to me on the birth of my shamanic powers. So, rather then call me Thousand Faces, you can call me Aurora. But remember, I am mute, so I speak entirely though sign language.

Thanks
-Aurora

- - - -

Superman, he told us our challenge, we had to get an outfit made: Not just an outfit, a superhero costume. I find that my traditional shamanic garb that I always wear suits me just fine. But: That would be a terrible way to fail the first challenge.



And it wasn’t like if it was embarrassing I just couldn’t change to look like someone else, right?

So, the girl who was working on my costume was from Texas. She was a down to earth looking girl, wearing cowboy boots and a classic cowboy hat, “Oh, Howdy… Isn’t that a nice outfit ya’ll is wearing… Ya need a costume, right? I gots the perfect idea for you…”

Somehow: I think a cowgirl working on an Indian’s outfit is going to lead to something hurtful and stereotypical. When she returned she was carrying fake leather. She had several dyed feathers, and what looked to be plastic.

She had me strip down, and from there, she began to wrap leather around me. When she got to it, she began to jam my side with needles, “Ya’ll ain’t in pain, are ya?” I shook my head no, but I don’t think she was paying attention.

“Ya’ll don’t talk very much, what is it? Custer got ya’lls tongue?” That was a cute comment. Too bad I couldn’t tell her what I was thinking.

“Now, ya’ll don’t mind dressing like an Indian do ya?” Yeah, this was going to be really bad, “I take silence as a no… Ya’ll are going to love this.” She stabbed me with another needle.

When she finished, she turned me around to the mirror.



no! No! NO! I reached out to strangle her, but she pulled out a six shooter, and poked me in the back.

“Ya’ll best be getting out there.”

I stepped out of the curtain door, and the first thing I heard was, “Would you like to beat on my tom-tom?”
“Look at that: She’s out of the casino and into our vomit.”
“Aww isn’t that warpaint cute, she can go an hold up the local preschool.”
“Watch out boys, she might use her pretty little feathers to scalp us.”

I walked with my chin up in the air, proud of nothing, but not letting them phase me. When I got to the end of my walk, I showed them a bit of sign language they all knew, the double deuce.

- - - -

When I entered my room, it was a bland, white number, and I knew I had to do something special with it. I tossed some seeds down, went outside, and got a wheelbarrow full of dirt, and dumped it on the floor.

Raising my arms in the air, I concentrated and pulled energy from the whole building focusing it into the floor, several trees shot up, along with grass, flowers, and a bed of moss.



I went outside, and found a small lightning bug. I took the lightning bug into the room, and concentrated, altering its DNA, its very being, and it grew in my hand, until it was the size of a small cat, but it was no cat.

No, this was a small dinosaur.



The coolest thing? It had a lightning bug tip on its tail. It began to run around the room, making little noises and eating some grass. I wanted my Shamanic outfit back, but this one would have to do for now.

I laid down on the moss bed, and I closed my eyes for a well deserved nap.

Jan the Intergalactic Aviator in Costumes and Shopping?

I steeled myself for what was about to happen. Through this door, a fate worse than getting blown up by space marauders, worse than being eaten by the tyranocons of Teneb XII, worse than Sunday dinner with Aunt Gladys awaited.

They were fashion consultants.

What am I even doing here? I thought to myself. I had my intergalactic freight and courier service to worry about. Things weren’t going so well there, no one was hiring right now and I lost a ton at my last job. Oh yeah, that’s why I’m here – the money.

I took a deep breath and stepped through the ominous portal and was immediately assaulted by a bright light and five nicely dressed men.


“Ooooh,” what happened to your hair?” asked one. “Do you condition with hydraulic fluid?”

“These boots are great,” said another. “Great if you’re spending the evening stomping on frogs out in the swamp.”

“And this outfit, ugh! It’s horrible,” said a third. “What do you call this?”

“It’s my flight suit,” I answered dryly. “It’s comfortable and functional.”

“Oh this will never do,” said the fourth while pulling at areas of the cargo pants. “Look, girl, with a bod like yours, you should never wear baggy.”

“This looks better,” said the fifth while pulling my flight suit tight from behind me. “Hey look, she has a nice figure!”

“You’ve got curves in all the right places, hon,” one said. “You should be proud to show it off.”

“Hey I am!” I protested. “It’s just when I’m flying my ship, I have to have something comfortable and functional.”

“If you say comfortable and functional one more time, honey, I’m going to stick your sock in your mouth. Ew, tube socks!”

“Well, I have to wear something under the boots!” I said.

“Don’t worry,” said one. “We’ll make you look so good that everyone’ll just want to eat you alive!”

“Everyone but us, ha ha!” laughed the third.

“You guys are too funny,” I mumbled sarcastically.

“Oh we know it!” cried one. “Now let’s get you into your outfit.”


After getting this stupid thing on, I made my way to the House Depot to get the materials needed to decorate my room.

“Excuse me, I’m decorating my room,” I asked one of the clerks on the floor. “I’m going to need some wood.”

“Oh, I’ve got some wood for you right here,” he leered back at me.

“What?”

“I’ve got the lumber and I’ll be laying it all night, if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh, pig!” I shouldered past him and made my way to the plumbing section. I found another man in the aisle. “I need to repair a sink and I need an elbow, some pipe, and some solder.”

“I’ve got some pipe for you,” the man said while squeezing his crotch. “It’s strong and you’ll love it, baby.”

“Give me a break,” I growled and shoved him out of my way. Is Superman hiring a bunch of perverts or something? Truth, justice, and the American way my ass.

Growling under my breath, I stomped over to the paint department. Behind the counter, a clerk asked me if I needed any help.

“I need a can of paint,” I said as I held up a swatch of a light purple. “I want it to be this color.”

“Oh, I’ve got a can of paint for you,” he said as he reached down under the counter. “Right here.”

“You stupid, perverted jerk!” I yelled. “Keep your stupid innuendos to yourself and keep your stupid libido in check. This is a fracking store, not some sort of sick sex farm!”

I stopped and looked around and everyone – everyone – was staring at me. The clerk sheepishly pulled a can of paint from behind the counter and held it up to me.

“Oh, uh thanks,” I muttered as I took the can. “Sorry.”

Stupid game show. Stupid Superman. Stupid dinosaur. Where am I going to get a dinosaur?

So It Starts

Alright, I was ready to kick this into gear. First they told me I have get fitted for an outfit. Ok, I can deal with that. This woman runs around me, rubbing up on me, smiling, taking measurements.

“I got just the thing for you, cutie,” she says with a wink.

I was appalled and now stuck wearing it, she refused to take no for an answer. She slaps a mask on my face, a hat on my head, and hands me a sword. I kinda like the sword but the rest… I’ll never hear the end of it. And I have to go out in public like this.

I’m Jedi, I can do this. I have dressed oddly before for undercover missions.

I walked into this Home Depot, and was instantly stared at like I was insane. “Nice look, some says. I lifted my chin and whipped back the cape dramatically and glared the way I usually do and said:

“You’ve never seen a guy with a cape and mask before?” That seemed to work.

A boy walked up to me and asked me if he could help me. I handed him my very short list, he looks it over and nodded. “I can help you with all of this. Follow me.” I followed, eyeballs all over me. One-girl whispers: “Is that Hayden Christensen dressed like that?”

“Oooooh nice!” another giggles. “A new movie, Hayden?”

I was warned about Hecklers but this! Who is this darn Hayden guy? I get that every time I end up on Earth! Every time I hear that name fan-girls swarm me.

Where was I? I got my stuff and left fast.

Back at the Hall of Justice I got work. It didn’t take long. Jedi Knights don’t require much for quarters. I saw a package from a follow Jedi. It had a huge stuff dinosaur in it. Really huge, much bigger than I was expecting.

When I was done arranging a man with camera walks in without knocking and starts taking my picture.



I can see the holos now.

Skywalker Out

First challenge

Welcome heroes to the Hall of Justice. We haven't used it much since the 80's but it will serve our purposes. You will be given a room here, and here is where the challenge comes in. First our costume designers will make you a costume. You will wear said costume to To the local House Depot. The problem is the deigners well they flunked fashion school.So be careful.


You can design your room however you want, but there is one rule for some reason you have to have a dinosaur in it. I have one in my Fortress of Solitude , Batman has one in his Batcave. Its a union rule.

Not only will there be regular customers at the store, but their will also be professional Hecklers . We want to see how you react. When you return one will be given immunity the others will be up for elimination.

The rules

A challenge will be posted on Sunday, If there is some kind of problem with posting please contact me at Supermanclarkebt@yahoo.com. The Watcher will judge the entries and give immunity to one player,the rest will be up for elimination. A poll will be put up for readers, on the blog and players will email thier votes for elimination to me.


The one with the most votes will be eliminated. The first challenge is coming soon.

The game begins

Sigh. I don't know how the producers talked me into this Actually I do the other members of the JLA wouldn't do it. (Especially Batman. ) Any way for those who want to play contact me your Email at this address: supermanclarkent@yahoo.com