Hey Santa, man … I don’t know if you can do this for me, but I don’t really know who else to ask. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had this dream burning a hole in my head — I see it every night when I go to sleep, and it stays with me all day, every day. It’s all I can think about. And I’m thinking maybe you’re the guy to help me out with it:
I want to be a herald of Galactus, Devourer of Worlds.
I know what you’re thinking: “Hey, man, you gotta talk to Galactus about that.” But hear me out, Santa. I know you’re the kind of guy that can make magic happen, and they always have such kickass powers and weapons and costumes!
And The Power Cosmic. Holy shit, The Power Cosmic. Don’t even get me started on The Power Cosmic.
Do you even realize what my BABIP would be if, every time I stepped to the plate, my body coursed with the raw furious matter-transmuting-and-obliterating energy of The Power Cosmic, just begging to be directed through my cosmic bat toward any rawhide-encased projectile? Significantly higher than .286, I’d wager.
Also, um, fucking FLYING? Through SPACE?!? Uh, yeah, dude. Sign me the hell up.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’d have to sacrifice the life force of my world and the existence of everyone I love to make this happen. I get it. But most people are bastards anyway. And if you’re asking me whether I’d rather be soaring through the Milky Way with a bat that directs The Power Cosmic or in a platoon with Carlos Delgado, keeping the seat warm for a kid named Ike? I think we both know the answer to that question.
Bet Firelord is a pretty decent guy, once you get to know him. Maybe I could make my name like his name, kinda. Like “Heatking.” Or “Flameduke.” Yeah, “Flameduke The Hitter.” So sick.
So, listen, I know that’s kind of a tall order, but I’d really appreciate it if you could set this up. And I guess, failing that, Hangover on DVD. Thanks, friend.
Fly safe,
Flameduke The Hitter ;)
this is the city line. 