(I hope this tabloid article doesn’t bother anyone. The title and subject are contributions from Ghost and Calley. The back story about BatBoy (AKA James) is from Revenge is Sweet ant Not Fattening

If you don’t want to read a tabloid article, skip down to the next post in this solo intro. Thank you. From your bug eyed writer. )

Aliens Abducted BatBoy

James Smith was an every day man. Many of you may remember me quoting him, ten years ago, about the registration camps and the secrets he released about SpiderCat. He was an everyday human who walked out of the camps experience a changed man. Really a changed man. It is believed by this Bug eyed writer that he caught the x-mutation from the residences at the camps. Exposure to multiple mutants created a new man, a mutie, a Muteman Mutant. Scientists will tell you all that I am wrong on that theory but believe me, I am not. Why do you think that it is a fact, ‘if you see one, there is more?’ That fraise doesn’t just apply to bug infestations anymore.

Shortly after the camps, James, here, was seen fleeing from who knows what, and as you can see there were big changes. Those ears, and skin color should prove that enough. If not for the fact that he was holding his head. As seen in the pictures to the right of the page. You see mutations are painful, not that your bug eyed writer would know.

Ten year later and James is still convincing people he is a mutant. Even if the bat ear and white coloration went away. James was convinced and convinced other, that he was a mutant. Weather it be his super speed, his flying ability or the telekinetic/telepathic mutation he was still working on. Where once James was a well respected guard for the camps, he now worked as a grounds keeper at the 5th Avenue trailer park. That’s where the aliens abducted our batboy buddy.

Witnesses say that there was a group of illegal immigrants working as traveling workers, Says our adorable eight year old source as she peddled away on her bike. When followed, our witness went on to say, in a extra winy voice, that James was having trouble getting these illegal aliens to vacate their lot on time. After a argument concerning the subject of lot rent to vacating the lot, James disappeared.

The cops are baffled as to how James disappeared. They are going on few clues, to go on. Including a half eaten piece of pizza, an acorn in the middle of the road, and a cracked cover girl makeup case. My readers, if you have any information, I encourage you to take it to the cops. This is your Bug eyed writer. Over and out.

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Petunia had just gotten back from the office. It was 7 pm, and she was eager to sit at her computer and spend her paycheck on fuzzy lime green slippers, and products that claim to reduce swelling in your nasal cavities, should Petunia ever have a need for a product that reduced swelling her in nasal cavity.

First Petunia had to get dressed in comfy cloth. That took precisely 8 minutes to shimmy out of her office dress, and find her fuzzy, hot pink cow pajamas. 2 minutes to pull out of her shoes and put on her comfy cow slippers, complete with awesome moo cow sounds if she stomped on the floor hard enough, and little cow bells.

The next action took 4 ½ more minutes. She needed hot chocolate. Because it was a known fact that computers work better when their users are holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Oh and a bowl of icecream. That added 2 more minutes to the home ritual, giving Petunia plenty of time to think about her day.

“GAARRRRDENNNERRRRRR!!!!” Theodore Thompson was a balding man. The outline of his scalp rounding out the top of his head, and the double chin rounding out the bottom, making his tie look so tightly knotted about his neck, his wife might have been trying to strangle him. “What the **** do you call this?” He demanded banging his hand against the desk in front of Petunia as if that was supposed to really scare her.

“It’s called a story.” She said as she started going through his mail.

“Yes I get that Mr. Gardener, But it’s already been run somewhere else. We can’t use it.”

“You mean the local news?” She asked with a quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue ran across her lips and she skimmed over his cluttered desk. Starting to rearrange his home pictures as they talked. He always got them messed up. They had to run in chronological order. She moved the picture of Theodore’s first wife out to the left, where his story began. She’d made him miserable, right up until a fatal car crash. It turned out some animal had gnawed through her break line.

“Exactly!” Theodore moved the picture back with a movement that made the corner, of the frame scratch a groove into his desk. “It’s a real story. We can’t do real stories, they make-“

“They make things real.” Petunia jerked the photo back into his line of sight and moved for the next. An uncle, of his, that had wanted to write for the tabloid. He was allergic to bees, but it had only taken an angered telekinetic Moose, to make him back out of the tabloid contract. “And what’s wrong with making real stories? We want people to believe us anyways, why not through in some truth?”

“Because it’s wrong.” Both pictures were snapped back.

“Because it’s the truth.” Petunia huffed and pulled out the ones that were the latest editions to the story’s collection. “We can be the tabloids of the future, Thompson.” Petunia grinned widely picking up the newer pictures of his that she hadn’t memorized yet. They were children of his new wife. Thompson must love them very much. Three smiling faces on three little brats. Pix bet they loved holding magnified glasses to ants.

“Because we’re the tabloids Petunia.” He reached to grab the picture out of her hand and she reached for another. Thompson didn’t like the truth. Petunia had realized this for a long time. “We’d only be taking up the slack left by the newspapers. You know, not everything they say isn’t a lie.

Thompson was silent staring at the picture that she was holding in her hand.

“Can this picture be published with my BatBoy article?” She held it up. The image was of a physically fit man in his late thirties. He hair was done in a loose buzz cut, and he was in a camp guard uniform. A smile creased his cheeks, and his completion was exquizit, thanks to the secret that he wore cover girl make up. His name tag read, James Smith. The picture was taken for a record right before the registration camps had begun. Back when Thompson’s daughter with his first wife, had fallen head over heals for such the looker, and stuck with him during his last 10 years. James had actually gotten better, until the relapse a year ago. “You know they’ll find him, Sir.”

“Take the picture.”

Petunia stretched as she leaned back. Her cocoa was hot and steaming on the table next to her, and her ice cream was sitting in her lap, covered in chocolate, and dripping with toppings. Her web browser had just settled on a pair of perfectly lime green cow slippers, being sold on ebay, when there was a knock at her door. Petunia’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t expecting company.

Petunia placed her bid on the lime green cow slippers, made sure her ice cream was safely tucked away inside the drawer of her desk, then answered the door. No one was there. Leaning out confirmed that no one was on either side of the halls. She didn’t hear giggling around the corners, and her ceilings were free from little wannabe ninja kids, that would be able to knock on a door and then cling to the ceiling. Shutting the door, Petunia made sure the cost was still clear through the use of the peep hole. The hall way inside her peep hole was clear too. Huhh…

Petunia had just turned around, headed to her computer, ice cream, and hot cocoa, when there was another knock. Petunia paused, blinked, and opened the door again. Nothing. And then there was the knock again.

Petunia’s eyes got wide and she smacked her palm to her face, Dahhhhh. She almost forgot. She did have a guest. And the knock was coming from her closet by the door. Thinking it was the door was an honest mistake. She really should remember to let her friends out when she was home.

She opened the closet door, and like a wave, of water, insects feel out, and rolled, like marbles across the floor of her apartment. Roaches went to the kitchen, dragon flies buzzed to the laundry room, and the ants make a long slender line to Petunia’s kitchen. Slowly everything began getting into order. There was a circle of life as a large spider scooped up a cricket, and crunched down into the thorax, While another spider that had passed it’s expiration date, was being eaten by a preying mantis. Among the clutter of insects, was a pair of shoes. Right under a pair of pants. And those were under a straight jacket, that was under a sweaty read head, with wide red eyes.

“Hello Pumpkin.” Petunia pulled his loose hair out of his eyes, and leaned in to give him a kiss, with her hands cradling over his chin. Two large mosquitoes were filling themselves full of dinner, at James’s right temple, lumps that looked like large moles, that were actually ticks, spotted here and there under his hair, and the collar of his shirt, “How was my man, James, today?” James whimpered as tears followed a trail of salt down his cheeks and around the duck tape holding his mouth closed, as petunia sat on his lap, stroking his hair. “It was so nice of you to volunteer to keep my brother company. He’ll be happy to have a friend.”