Nancy was fed up. She'd spent years waiting for Frank to ask her out, but did he ever? Her efforts we're supported in spirit by many fans, who apparently loved the idea of her and Frank being an item. Though she wholeheartedly agreed, she was vaguely mystified about just who was writing about her, and her friends', exploits. Probably one of them, no doubt, chugging away at a hot cocoa while punching letters unseeingly into a typewriter, too enveloped in a state of sleep-tapping suspended animation to pay any attention to the adventures clambering from their subconscious, or the lips being burnt off their face.
Nonetheless, to her frustration, Frank still remained as stubborn as a mule with a delicious French-fry. Nancy did the only thing she could think of: she stamped on his foot and ran away with his brother...for a week-long holiday in the Bahamas, complete with an all-you-can-eat selection of pasties, and other such memorabilia.
Joe and Nancy clinked their piña coladas, grinning as they pushed their giant novelty sunglasses up their noses and leant back into their blow-up ocean chairs. If this didn't prompt Frank to make the move, nothing would!
Little did Nancy and Joe realise that thousands of feet in the air, a dark-haired figure glared down at them through the window of a private jet, his hands almost white as they pressed against the cold glass.
The man turned around to face the pilot, grimacing. "Change of plans, Bernie. I'm going to Alcatraz!"
Bernie saluted him. Frank gave a slight nod back and adjusted his goggles. With a single look out the open hatch, he catapulted out the plane, opening up his batwing arms as he jet packed off into the sunset, and to a world free of a broken heart.