Metropolis

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THE NIGHT BEFORE TODDMAS
By Jason Rhode

Twas the night before Toddmas (even for Xorn)
Metropolis Manor was unbothered by Ms. Tentacle Porn
The hosts were asleep as if slapped by Hank Pym,
Dreaming of crossovers not named “House of M.”

Their longboxes and stockings were prepped for arrival
In hopes that St. Apocalypse would deem ‘em fit for survival
While me and Cerebra and a Professor named Zoom
Were drugged and so snug in our deep Black Bug Room

But an alarm was sounded by our team’s newest rookie,
Was Juggernaut attacking for some milk and/or cookie?
On the viewscreen above flashed a blood-curdling red,
Well we all knew: no comics bastard stays dead!

The sound that I then heard was the displacement of matter,
“Teleporters!” I thought. “My head’s on a platter.”
Metropolis ran like the Flash (don’t think our team’s Mundy)
To the window to see: was it Solomon Grundy?

“It’s lasertime, bitches!” yelled Blake “Wombat” Porter
“Pew pew” went the cannons defending our border
“No luck” said Padawan, stepping out from the shade
“The intruder’s also defeated Colin’s drunk penguin brigade.”

Then: “Samuroid! Samuroid batch 23!”
The utter joy in the voice belonged to One True J.P.
But they’d been destroyed too. And our drop koala cabal?
Out of species hatred TEH Wombat had poisoned ‘em all.

“Yes. Father. I shall become a bat” — so spake the Chief
But nobody paid attention to that dialogue thief
“It’s time I used The Word,” said Marcus, eyes glowing red
Yet the figure onscreen heeded not a word that Parks said

“You’ve overlooked something,” said the One True J.P.
“My god,” said the group, quite horrified, “Bees!”
But it wasn’t a swarm that flew over the ridge
Though it shocked us all like girlfriends stuffed in the fridge

Oh, the moon and the snow were whiter than Beck
Began I to wonder if they’d used Shi’ar tech
Then it appeared! The Met-Computer tells us no fibs:
A Transdimensional Carrier drawn by nine Guthrie sibs!

Discharging energy blasts, and more hairy than Grodd,
I saw that its pilot ’twas the being they call “Todd”
More darting than Smeagols his flamin’ muties, they came,
It was the whole Guthrie family! He called ‘em by name!

“Now Sammy! now, Paige! now, ‘Lizbeth and Jebediah!
On, Joelle! On, Josh! on Lucas, Lucinda and Maya!
To the top of the Blackbird! Now breach the Source wall!
Now dash away! Dazzler say: Dash away all!”

As continuity shatters when a new writer’s aboard
Or characters turn necks like the late Maxwell Lord
So the Guthries manuevered — how quickly they flew!
With the sleigh full of fanboy joy, and Prof. Todd too.

Roof tiles began snapping like the neck of Gwen Stacy
He’d landed above — our hearts, they grew racey.
He bamfed down in our den, and snarled with a glare:
“The last time we inspired anyone was when we were off the air!”

Could this be the wizard of legend and fable?
He shook when he laughed as do molecules unstable.
He barked out commands like he was a New God:
“NOW ALL SONS OF JOR-EL MUST KNEEL BEFORE TODD!”

Boasting of great victories o’er one Human Bomb
Invoking the strength of some god he called “Krom.”
Everything about this flatscan said he was money
His voice was like gravel poured over with honey.

On his finger was a ring that was powered by will,
I knew that the First Law might let him kill
He wore a necklace of teeth, all pryed from dead foes
Who’d forgotten his training with one Hunter Rose

Said he: “I’ve come tonight for my vinyl ‘Sussudio’”
“By accident somehow I left it in the old studio”
“If you don’t now return it, you’ll pay for your sin”
“When I’m the shaman of earth — I mean, the Doctor again!”

We were about to comply, and go back to bed,
When suddenly our room filled was with deep dread
Out from the shadows they stepped, a whole ninja crew
An evil Hand army, numbering about one hundred and two.

Todd sighed: “They did stuff to me up in that lab,”
“Sometimes I think I’d rather be dead on the slab,”
“But still I’m the best at what I do,” he cackled with glee,
Out popped razor-sharp claws: one, two — then three.

Then he said “bub,” and went straight to his work,
Murdering a score of ninja by going beserk
The Metropolis crew smiled at the rosy-cheeked killer
More living than Kirby, less crazy than Miller.

He made wholesale slaughter like a Soze named Kaiser
(His optic beams were kept checked by ruby quartz visor)
The sight of the Met-kitchen, so splattered with gore
Was better than the whole of Millar’s lame “Civil War”

“Are you retarded or something?” he shouted, irate
Said Todd to a ninja: “I’m Lubbock’s goddamn Mystery Date!”
“You don’t get it, boy,” yelled Todd, “I’m the Bigby of Fable”
“This isn’t a mudhole … it’s an operating table.”

He took bone from muscle — look, see it glisten!
“Something told me to stop with the leg. I don’t listen.”
Each evil ninja beheld this rising Dark Lord,
He cut men to pieces like Boy Blue’s vorpal sword.

At last he was done, and gave a great sigh,
One hundred two ninjas he’d sent to the sky.
(I wouldn’t dare to try besting such a soul of pure win,
For there are no Xavier Protocols for that Alex Ross chin!)

He slid on the Infinity Gauntlet, all covered with bling,
And was set to talk more, till Mother Box gave a “ping!”
It was Commissioner Gordon calling from Gotham Central Station:
“Jimmy Olsen is and always has been the Anti-Life Equation.”

So Todd, who’d returned from the dead more times than Osiris,
And kicked the whole ass of the Legacy Virus,
Just climbed up the chimney — then he screamed “KHAAAN!”
We were moved to a man by this Last Son of Krypton.

He sprang to his carrier, to his Guthries gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the magic of missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he boom-tubed from sight,
“Happy Toddmas to all, and to all a Dark Knight!”