I surprisingly overcame insurmountable odds, coming away intact with a bit of poise and a bit of chutzpah. Hours later my energy levels were peaking from the scrumptious stylings of Hyper Crush, who once again battered my body into dance floor heaven. To remain low-key and off the radar, I adjusted my appearance to mimic common civilian wear.
I blended in with the crowd effortlessly at first. Holly Valentine looked gorgeous; she was doing something devilishly supernatural, lowering my normally symmetrical inhibitions, and it wasn't the plentiful booze I'd consumed on the way over, but it easily could've been the sweet scent of Holly's flawless skin.
I had my two molls along for extra added protection, figuring my measly shank wouldn't be enough juice to survive the night.
I was blatantly assailed on the dance floor for being recognized as the towering Floyd Sanders, so Roxie took care of him, rubbed him out brutally.
He didn't stay dead for long and became a zombie, but he chilled the Hell out. The focus returned to the music and Donny Fontaine, seminal member of Hyper Crush. He kept the crowd moving with his crafty lyrics on dope beats.
He tore the place to shreds with wicked rhyme flow. Their party anthem "Sex and Drugs" has secured a nomination for song of the year '07. I think we all agreed that future celebrities were performing right under our noses. That called for more Bashing.
I was feeling lucky and blessed, knowing that the Way of the Bash was guiding my every move and overseeing important actions in an objective light. All this, of course, was remedied by the grim mistake of coming across The Detonator.
He was rather snappy, animated, and was speaking with a strangely constructed Cuban accent. My good friend Omar Suarez would've appreciated the stuff he had in pocket. It was then, without warning, that I transformed into the heathen of heathens, the master of disaster, ferocious and frenzied with a pure dose of carnal voltage!
With the untimely exit of Holly, her casted spell sadly wearing off, the burning appearance of Taylor instantly threw me into a lavishly welcomed relapse.
I could feel a sudden surge in my hot-blooded psyche, launching my once coherent thoughts into the proverbial tailspin of scattershot dreams and morbid foolishness. While luxuriating in her presence for a time, I neglected to notice her dog wasn't very appreciative of my big oogly eyes. The dog mauling arrived without an overt signal.
I came away from combat emotionally and physically scarred, knowing that it wouldn't take weeks, it would instead take months to recover properly from coming too close to an intense sort of majesty. I crawled, badly beaten and bloodied, to the feet of the mythical Strawberry Shortcake.
I refuse to beg for anything, but she was sincerely concerned for my well-being, so she pulled out the robust antidote and handed it over.
Minutes later I was back to normal, somewhat drained from the experience, but I needed to find glory forthwith, for the limits of my power slowly begun to surface to the delight of my enemies and foes. To help bring back my rampage, my trusted comrade Devon Ahmad was able to down an entire bottle of Merlot on command.
As I applied the sparkle of my mighty "Trickle-Down Drinking" voodoo, Devon began telling everyone to "Bash or be Bashed," the result being countless ingestions of various intoxicants by awestruck humans. The effect was overwhelming, the targets were duly blasted.
Willful subservience via Bashing is something I look up to, but it's also superior when done responsibly. I was pleased Peacock was around to assist with regulation, and she diligently followed my earlier advice. Over breakfast I told her that Halloween could become an all out war of dramatic proportions.
Some Jedi guy tried to be cool, pulling out his lightsaber haphazardly, surely intent on showing the world that his tepid tricks and marginal swordplay could dominate a place localized by Captain Excess and his minions. Peacock scoffed at his ill-timed drunken mistep.
She worked him over worse than the movingly crippled Fallen Angel.
To fuel further insult to injury, I summoned Ridge Thornway from vacation to engage in his favorite activity: causing bodily dismemberment and mayhem.
Ridge BBQ'd Jedi in special sauce. I declined the taste, as would most rational people. The only other hint of trouble came from Tina Turner of Thunderdome fame, seen here with a thugged out Raj Vasher.
He faced the wheel and won amputation, a much better prize than the reviled "gulag." The highlight, courtesy of Taylor, was forcefully gaining a sponsorship from Radioactive Energy Drink for successfully Bashing others into drunken lushes, a point of personal worth among those in the know.
Being equipped with an endless supply of Radioactive, along with a case of Smirnoff and a black light, I'll certainly be able to infiltrate hallowed lands with the vigor and confidence of a True Basher. I will win.
To quote The Ronda, "My favorite part of Halloween is that girls usually dress up as Slutty [fill in the blank]."
The full name of the party was “The Rampart League of Earth Justice in Space Super Hero Costume Party.”
The genius of his crazy creations isn’t bound by any rules that tend to govern the full spectrum of emerging Bashes. Convention need not apply. 
Mantooth was the The Inseminator, unbent sexuality in supervillain form, adorned with his utility belt containing all sorts of sordid paraphernalia to assist in his quest of inseminating nations far and wide.
I came into fray as Captain Excess, representing the darker side of the hero universe with quick consuming abilities and the power to cause riots by mentally-forcing weak minds to party.
My girl The Pillar, a member of The Inner Circle, is immune to the evocative telekinesis I possess, and my shiny armor deflects her most powerful attack, so we’re two peas in a pod. The assembly was glorious! 
One of the first villains I came across was Fuck Face, and he affectionately obliged in drinking more.
I immediately figured him as a worthy ally rather than foe. Fuck Face was unstoppable in his pillage, eating someone’s relative without wavering.
But he declined my offer to join The Inner Circle, instead opting to stick with his original partner-in-crime, the incomparable Supervagina.
Then our greatest fears were met with a blindsided blow of the wind; it was Smelly Man riding in on his glide-powered motorbike!
Boo-Yah! I challenged him to drink as others began clearing the way from his pungent scent of extreme death. The onlookers were eagerly waiting for Smelly Man to loosen up.
Our attentions turned lethal when Dazzler floated down the stairways, lifting everyone’s spirits with colors and stars, and even the evildoers couldn’t resist her aura.
I noticed Robin wanting to step up, so I verbally dished a booze whammy on his psyche. He mellowed and remained still.
Before I could properly embellish myself in the newly forged kingdom, all of a sudden, an eerie calmness overtook the swelling crowd, which could’ve only meant one thing . . .
The Cat Napper! He forced me to look in his bag, shoved it into my face, and I passed out for 20 minutes.
When I awakened, Raj Vasher was standing above me, shaking his head saying, “You should’ve never fallen for The Cat Napper’s salacious trappings.”
Raj Vasher was Beer Man, equipped with 12 different methods to open anything alcoholic.
His acquired abilities also assisted in staying heterosexual.
I was definitely promoting overkill on the feeble superheroes to drink, to Bash with me, to overthrow their senses with the aura of Captain Excess.
We also had Special Sauce, who was in from Little Italy to represent all the sauciers in the world.
His primary superhero power was saucing.
Another captain, Captain Armenia, shielded my egging on to drink more.
Then a hungered wolf drooling heavy made his way through searching for prey to feed the insatiable hunger brought on by full moon.
Ta-Dow! I rapidly realized that Comedy Carhole was represented by my distinguished attorney Collin, the sheep in wolf’s clothing.
We spoke of possible quandaries in law, and then he went back in to plunder.
Indiana Jones arrived with the always seductive Cat Woman, and she was playing tricks on all the male minds. Luckily, Indy sees through that garbage.
Quite a duo, and I quickly noticed who led the charge of that combo.
Terrence and Philip came in female form, and their gaseous tidings warded me off.
Lance made a late night appearance off-the-heals of a competitive game of soccer, a victory. He was Henchman #2.
I thought I’d be able to recruit him for my world domination efforts, but I inadvertently got him to Bash.
As a surprise to no one, Earl dropped in with bombs a falling.
Earl would swill, drop pointed insults while accurately Bashing, then hide behind Lex Luthor’s invisible shield.
Earl was also apparently quite the womanizer, and The Basher was in awe for once.
Why wouldn’t Earl be infatuated with Wonder Woman? Who wasn't . .
And then, like clockwork, Earl teamed up with Beer Man to astound you.
Aside from the major group meeting, I discovered that some Justice League plotting was going on behind the scenes.
It was then that the mysterious Cloak came in to stoke malicious deeds, his powers clearly undefined, but he’s been known to wallop fright into the hearts of prospective opponents.
The Cloak moved in on the courageous Pillar, who justly attacked back using the wickedly dynamic luminous-mind attack with the veracity of a fearless charmer warding off eminent evil easy, chopping his brain in quarters.
After that quick and entertaining display of destruction, I gave this one hero a taste of my quenching fruit juice. She began her attempts to regain the power to fly, but without any success due to the suggestive powers of Captain Excess.
When the sky could no longer welcome her with open arms, I convinced her that I was the key for her to regain any superpowers.
At that point, I realized Captain Excess was a bona fide Supervillain. Awards were given out around midnight based on votes from all attendees. The Inseminator, The Cat Napper and Dazzler were exempt from candidacy because they were humbly hosting.
The four awards were for Best Superhero and Best Supervillain (based on existing character), along with Best Superhero and Supervillain created by a guest.
I vaguely remember voting for Captain Armenia because I couldn’t vote for The Inseminator. The Captain brought his block celly.
I exceeded. The Pillar provided shimmering incandescence for the sake of extravagance, lighting up the venue and succeeding on all levels.
The Cat Napper became bitter because he needed sleep, and the booze I stealthily provided him from vengeance obviously weakened his commonly effective superpowers. The fire of Rabbit Spinner proves my merit.
Suffice to say, Captain Excess has officially been retired. A side cannot be taken, the good or the evil.
To think Halloween is around the corner, what oh what might I be? At this rate, probably a zombie after listening to The Cranberries.