Been popping out these weekly updates for future readers. One day people will give a shit, ONE DAAAAY!

Had a lotta fun writing this one. Hope y'all dig it.

Marvel Munchies

Chapter 10

"That was foolish, you two thinking you could hide from me," Steve-Dave said, leading Ming and Mike out from the back room of the store at gunpoint. "I want you two to watch as we put an end to this place. Walter! Why aren't I smelling gasoline!?" He yelled out, keeping his weapon trained on the Secret Stash employees.

"Listen man, you don't have to do this. We've got bigger problems right now." Ming Chen pleaded.

"Awwww nawww, prease Steve-Dahhhve! Prease dunn burn down mahhh woowk! Mee woowk sooo hawwd!" Steve-Dave mocked, waving his hands around and speaking in an over-the-top stereotypical Asian accent.

"Hey, don't talk to him like that..." Mike Zapcic said, sticking up for his friend.

"Ohhhhoho, don't even get me started with YOU, traitor!" Steve-Dave got in Mike's face, poking him with the pistol. "Or did you forget about how you ANBANDONED your duties at Comic Toast as soon as Broody opened up THIS godforsaken place?"

"He offered me a better position, and I just didn't like the way you guys did business." Mike answered truthfully, holding his hands up as Steve-Dave's gun dug into his stomach.

"You know, I wasn't gonna execute you right away," the crazed comic book shopkeeper took a step back and raised his weapon to Mike's head. "But I think you just gave me a reason…"

*BEEPBEEP*

An entrance chime could be heard as the front door suddenly slammed open. A tall, slim figure wearing a tight fitting white costume leapt into the building, followed by a much bulkier man, clad in an overcoat with a cap and goggles.

"SNOOCH TO THE MOTHAFUCKIN' NOOOOCH!" Chronic exclaimed, landing on both feet after the relatively short hop through the doorframe. Bluntman simply walked in and posed heroically next to him. "Oh shit, there's actually people in here…" Chronic muttered.

Everyone present turned to stare at the strange visitors. An awkward silence was had for a moment before Steve-Dave spit out a chuckle and eventually broke out into crazed cackle.

"AAAHAHAAAHAHA! What the in the hell is this? I really can't believe my fucking eyes right now," he said, wiping a tear from his face. "You idiots actually OWN those costumes? BWAHAHAAAHAA!" Steve-Dave had to lean his gun-free hand on a nearby book-rack to keep from falling over from his own laughter.

"Yo, Lunchbox, ain't that the clerk from the mall who used to kick us out of his shitty comic book store all the time?" Chronic asked. Bluntman nodded in confirmation.

"This is great!" Steve-Dave shouted with a mad grin on his face. "It's like I have everyone I've ever wanted to kill all in the same room! All except for that piece of shit Broody, but still, not bad." He then raised his gun to the costumed duo. "And the best part is, I know for a fact you two stoner mallrats aren't bulletproof…" Bluntman and Chronic immediately raised their hands up in surrender.

"Hey, Steve-Dave?" Walt Grover, who had been mostly silent throughout the ordeal thus far, spoke up. "Remember before, when I said 'mutants aren't all that bad'…?"

Bartleby, Loki, and The Silver Surfer shot through space in V formation as they traveled in the direction of planet Earth. The two newly initiated heralds flew head first with their arms back, not having to use their demonic wings for hyper-speed travel. The Silver Surfer on the other hand, needed only to stand atop his legendary board, his posture relaxed, almost seeming at home in the void of outer space.

"May I ask you a question, Norrin, was it?" Bartleby asked the surfer, flying in position between Loki and the metallic cosmic traveler.

"You may."

"Did Galactus implore you to offer up your world when you came to serve him, as he did us?" The Silver Surfer continued to stare off into the distance for a time before responding to Bartleby's question.

"If what you said about yourself before is true, then you already know the answer to that which you ask," The Silver Surfer spoke coldly. "Unlike you, I did not volunteer to serve The Eater of Worlds…" Bartleby silently cursed himself for asking such an obvious question in an attempt to win the herald's trust. He did however, sense a resentment coming from the surfer's voice, which he could possibly use to his advantage.

"Great Bart, now the shiny space guy doesn't think we're cool." Loki commented. "Every time we meet new people ya always gotta fuck it up. That's why we never get any chicks."

"We aren't even able to reproduce, Loki," Bartleby acted annoyed, but secretly welcomed his counterpart's snide remark, giving him the opportunity to change the subject of conversation. "And even if we could, you always come on too strong, trying to act like you're Good Will Hunting or some shit every time we go out."

"Hey," Loki raised his finger. "Damon and Affleck are like the William Shakespeares of the 21st century. 'How ya like THEM apples?' Fucking classic man…"

"And that's why you were never given a job that involves judgment, or any type of analysis…" Bartleby stated with a grin. As the long-time friends bickered among themselves, The Silver Surfer, while not necessarily knowing what they were talking about, found himself intrigued by the camaraderie shared by the pair. It had been a very long time since the herald had known the feeling of having anyone truly by his side.

Bartleby sensed the surfer's emotions, and felt that his plan was back on track.

"You're an analysis…" Loki shot back.

"AAAAGHHHHH! WAAAALLLTTT, NOOOO! RAAAHHHH!" Electricity coursed through Steve-Dave's body as he writhed and twitched on the ground. Walt stood over him, palm extended, feeding the bolts into his former partner. He suddenly cut the energy, and gave Steve-Dave a moment of rest.

"I didn't wanna do this Steve-Dave, but you're being crazy. I didn't sign up for this!" Walt explained, still trying to reach out.

"I always knew there was something strange about you man," Steve-Dave coughed, his body still quivering from the shocks. "Now it all makes sense. You're nothing but a low-level mutie who's always been trying to take everything I own! I should have never let you get this close to me!"

"Yo, can you go ahead and smoke this guy? Me and Silent Bo- I mean, Bluntman have shit to do."

"Yeah, go ahead Walt! Finish the job!" Steve-Dave struggled to get to his feet. "Might as well add murderer to your bio, along with freak, and COWARD."

"What are you talking about!? You just tried to kill us then burn down our store!" Ming Chen interjected. Steve-Dave coughed again.

"Well, you guys don't count…"

"Oh, Steve-Dave…" Walt said sadly, his eyes glowing blue with electrical power.

"Fine! I'll go! But just know this; once I amass my army of post-apocalyptic bandits, we'll be back to tear this place apart plank by plank! Ya hear me!?" the crazed survivor ranted as he held his gun up and backed his way out of the building. "PLANK BY PLANK!" And with that, Steve-Dave ran back out into the seemingly empty streets of Redbank. Walt slowly walked over to a chair and sat down, tired from expending so much physical, not to mention, emotional energy.

"That dude was fuckin' bonkers," Chronic surmised. Bluntman tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the Secret Stash employees. "Oh yeah. Hey, do you'se two know where me and my tubby ward here can get our blunt-sabers back at?"

"Blunt-sabers?" Mike looked over to Ming. "Does he mean those movie props we've got stored in the basement?"

"I think so, let me go check," Ming said. In a few minutes he returned holding two objects that looked like they would be more at home in a college dorm room than a comic book store.

"AWWW HELLZ YEAH!" Chronic exclaimed as he snatched the weapons out of the clerk's hands. He threw one of them to Bluntman as they both began refamiliarizing themselves with their tools.

"You're not just gonna give those to them for free are ya?" Walt asked from across the room, his inner passion for salesmanship returning to him.

"Well, I wasn't really thinking about it," Mike said, scratching his head.

"What'll you guys give us for them?" questioned Walt on behalf of Broody's Secret Stash.

"Uhhhh," Bluntman and Chronic began checking their belts. "We've got an ounce of grass, 70 bucks, and half a bag of nacho cheese Doritos."

Walt thought for a moment.

"Alright, leave the cash and the chips. I don't smoke." Walt Grover said before looking over to Mike and Ming. "Is that cool with you guys?"

"Sounds fair to me." Ming answered. Mike nodded in agreement. With the deal made, Bluntman and Chronic exited the store, hopped into the Bluntmobile, and sped off with a tire squealing lurch. Only the three comic book men were left in the store.

"Sooooo…" Ming Chen turned to Walt. "Ever been on a podcast before?"

That'll do it for chap 10. Tell us what you think in a REVIEW! And by us I mean me and the comment box. :P