Outhouse reporter and former Agent of S.H.A.D.E. Frankenstein reports on the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy from New Jersey.
As Frank set notes on paper, Frank obsessed by thought Frank may be last living man on Earth. Frank hide in empty house near Grovers Mill - small island of daylight cut off by smoke (smoke bad!) from rest of world. All that happened before monstrous storm seem part of nother life... life that have no continuity with present, like Old DCU and NuDCU, furtive existence of lonely derelict who pencil words on back of Wolverine and the X-Men comic book, ruining resale value.
Frank look down at blackened hands, torn shoes, tattered clothes, and try connect them with Monster who once work for SHADE, who, on night of October 29, glimpse on Weather Channel swirly storm over Atlantic Ocean. Storm bad. Weather bad.
Frank friends, Frank colleagues at Outhouse, angry villagers who chase Frank with pitchforks and torches, lab where Frank sewn together from parts of corpses and reanimated with lightning... Frank... Frank world... where are they? Did they ever exist? Is Frank Frank? What day is it? Do days exist without calendars? Does time pass when no human or monster hands left to wind clocks?
In blogging daily life post-Sandy, Frank tell Frank self Frank shall preserve human and monster history on snarky comic book site which purpose is to make dick jokes about Wolverine. But to blog, Frank must live. To live, Frank must eat. Frank find moldy bread and orange not too spoiled to swallow. Moldy bread good. Orange good.
Frank keep watch at window. From time to time, Frank catch sight of cat flying by in gust of wind, or shark swimming on lawn. Flood still hold Frank house in damp coil... but at length waters recede and Frank able to go in basement and find comic book collection. Frank look through boxes at comics, warped by water, pages stuck together, all destroyed... except one box. One box of Frank comics okay. Frank open box. Box is all Extreme comics by Rob Liefeld.
Exhausted by terror, Frank fall asleep. Is morning.
Morning! Sun stream in window. Floods have receded, and damp meadows to north look like Aquaman go on bender again. Frank venture from house. Frank make Frank way to road. No traffic. Traffic bad. Here and there i wrecked car, baggage overturned, tanning salon sadly abandoned. Frank push on North. For some reason, Frank feel safer trailing waters rather than running from. Frank have enough cowering. Cowering bad.
Frank keep careful watch. Frank has seen storm. Should clouds appear over top of trees, Frank is ready to flink Frank self flat on earth. Frank come to chestnut tree. October chestnuts rupe. Frank fill pockets. Frank must keep alive. ALLLLLIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEE!!!
Two days Frank wander in vague northerly direction through desolate world. Finally, Frank notice living creature... small red squirrel in beach tree. Frank stare at squirrel, and wonder. Squirrel stare back at Frank. Frank believe at that moment Frank and squirrel feel same emotion... joy of finding nother living creature... a friiiieeeennnddd. Frank grab squirrel and hug. Frank love squirrel. Squirrel stop moving.
Frank push on North. Frank find graphic novels in brackish fields. Beyond, damp ruins of comic book shop. Frank go inside. Comics destroyed. Is computer. Frank go on internet. Is no comic book news. No comic book news for two straight days! Frank scared.
Frank make way through websites. CBR have no fluff articles. IGN have no 4.5 star reviews for free advance review copies. Newsarama have no cheesy top ten lists. Is nothing left? Finally, Frank find Bleeding Cool. There Frank see Rich Johnston post from last week. Headline read: Outhouse to Write Clumsy War of the Worlds Pastiche; Orson Welles Will Make Guest Appearance.
Bleeding Cool spoil Frank's article. Even at end of world, Rich Johnston still a dick.
This is Orson Welles, ladies and gentlemen, out of character to assure you that Hurricane Sandy has no further significance than as the holiday offering it was intended to be. The Outhouse's own blog version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying Boo! Starting now, we couldn't soap all your windows and steal all your garden gates by tomorrow night. . . so we did the best next thing. We annihilated the world before your very eyes, and utterly destroyed the Internet. You will be relieved, I hope, to learn that we didn't mean it, and that both institutions are still open for business. So goodbye everybody, and remember the terrible lesson you learned tonight. That grinning, glowing, globular invader of your living room is an inhabitant of the pumpkin patch, and if your doorbell rings and nobody's there, that was no superstorm. . .it's Hallowe'en.