Mantooth stepped up again with his annual superhero theme party.
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.
After surveying the scene and boldly quaffing numerous liquids, we all hopped into a dangerously driven cab bound for Cha Cha Lounge, a place of previous crimes and misdemeanors, where accidents happen and regrets are hard to come by.
Exploring the outer reaches of the Los Feliz area are beneficial to somebody used to the Westside. The lifestyles can be contrasted sharply, but each has benefits as well as drawbacks. Sexiness is never a drawback, the main reason I relent from the sadly common norm of remaining in a bubble, never going anywhere past 2 miles. Bubbles are boring, and so are a lot of people, so I select my company carefully.
As usual, to assist with maintaining Bash balance and order, The Detonator came armed with passionate daring and Willie Nelson.
In true form that's naturally exuded, staying in style and focusing on the fray was the first and only option in play. Aside from prodigious finesse, The Detonator's art often imitates reality. Everything progressed nicely after entering Cha Cha Lounge and the evening never seemed to peak out.
But before that we briefly waited outside the bar, one that was apparently overcrowded and drawing the ire of local fire authorities, yet the line moved quickly after the once stoic doormen noticed attractive ladies in the back of the line. With that factor competing, it’s good to be part of the group. We briefly spoke to Mike Piazza who was loitering in front of us.
Mike concurred that he, as well as the 30 men in front of us, were very lucky. The line moved deceptively fast, and we were in within minutes to begin causing irreparable liver damage with cheers and laughter.
This particular evening also gave me a chance to showcase the medal I won from running in the Disneyland Half Marathon in Anaheim, a feat that many joyously complemented me on.
I was a winner that day! I was also genuinely stoked when handed red cup, a sign that the bar had been tapped on glassware, probably the result of sneaky bastards stealing while influenced by a drunken daze. Too much fun though, the kind that lingers, like the faint scent of sweet Champagne I shared with the lovely ladies before embarking in the crazy cab, it still comes across my senses. Nights like that, in retrospect, can fulfill your most beautiful dreams of magic. I prompty passed out at 5am.
Then you have to go home, or in my case, you go straight from a comfy couch and unparalleled warmth to Mo’s in Playa Del Rey. Nothing beats watching football and having the greatest taco salad in the entire world or the contagiously yummy popcorn shrimp with house sauce. Plus Mo is always there to tell the best jokes.
After a rare Raiders victory and the best fish 'n' chips ever, I happily engaged Peacock at Sports Harbour to continue some incomprehensible debauchery on an already heavenly Sunday.
It didn't take long for my boldily pains to go away.
