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Maxwell JoslynThe publication date of this snippet is an approximation; I only recall that it was some time in fall or winter 2018, on an evening with these friends.
"It's dark outside, and I'm Spider-Man," said Spider-Man. "I am here for those of you who have suffered from CRIME." The citizens of New York were distraught. "The person who crimed us is Stan Lee!" "It can't be," said Spider-Man. His web-shooters flexed. His butt clenched. "It can't be." But it was.
You've gotta take yourself into battle. You've gotta do your sick moves -- every last one, even if it kills you. But you can't let it kill you, because you've gotta win. You've gotta
Kill. That. Elf.
You're gonna put on your elf-fighting suit and ride into battle, and if you retreat, so help me Space God, I will shoot you myself. I don't care how afraid you are, or how pissed your pants are, or how good you are at fighting in the gaseous-metal atmosphere of this planet: you've gotta do it anyway, you've g-o-t-t-a
KILL. THAT. ELF.