"Get in there before you hurt yourself again," Green Lantern said. On the short trip from the infirmary to the kitchen, Flash had almost been crushed by falling light fixtures, almost been broiled by an exhaust vent that had inexplicably been left open, and almost been run down by Superman's new Go Kart.

"Hey, quit shoving."

Lantern shoved him one more time, just 'cuz, which rendered Flash's crutches useless since he went flying into the wooden knife display. He was fine, maybe a little sore from hitting the counter and the knife handles, but he was mad enough he might as well had been stabbed. (14)

One crutch clattered to a stop by the stove. Hawkgirl lifted a pot of boiling water she had made up for coffee and didn't notice the rubber tip of the crutch lying right behind her foot. She turned.

I know what you're thinking, but it didn't happen. Hawkgirl felt it on her toe just in the nick of time and hopped gracefully over it, landing safely on the other side. But then her wing tip became tangled between her feet and she lurched forward. The boiling water flew across the kitchen and landed right on Flash's chest.

"AHH!" Flash screamed.

"Apocalyptic Athena! I'm sorry, Flash! Ooh." Hawkgirl attempted to cover her mouth with her hand but balled it into a fist instead. You know, like how you do when you spill boiling water on The Flash. (15)

Superman, who was just passing by, hit him with a blast of ice breath which, while it stopped the burning, half-freezed his chest and sent him spiraling back into the knife display.

"Jiminy Christmas, big guy," Flash said, coming to a rest on the floor of the kitchen. "A simple ice pack would do."

"Just trying to help. Next time I'll just let the blisters form."

Flash sulked on the floor. "Blisters?" he muttered. "On my chest, the envy of all mankind? No way."

Lantern returned his crutches to him, but Flash decided to stay where he was long enough for his chest to thaw.

In the open area outside of the kitchen, Batman was practicing throwing his batarangs about with Wonder Woman watching excitedly on the sidelines. I was reminded of a high school football practice with the star-struck cheerleaders watching from the bleachers, and the hormone-driven football players strutting their stuff for the star-struck cheerleaders watching from the bleachers.

"Throw one over there," Wonder Woman suggested. Batman gave a half smile and heaved his batarang. Unfortunately, he did it just as Flash was coming out of the kitchen.

Batman's voice rang through the open room. "Look out!"

Flash felt a stabbing pressure. He looked down to see a batarang protruding from his shoulder. "Natch," he said before the pain hit him.

Besides the pain, Batman hit him in an attempt to get him out of the way before the batarang could reach him. Now, when I say "Batman hit him," I mean slammed into him, more like, with all the force he had. Going with the football analogy, it was like when the quarterback . . . and then the first baselinebackerman . . . with the goalie . . . you know, fell off his . . . horse . . .

Okay, so sports I don't get. Enough sports analogies. But if I didn't know better, I would have thought Batman was flying. He was completely parallel to the ground when he grabbed Flash around the middle, sending them both hurling back. Flash landed in the wall with a crack. Luckily for Batman, there was a nice, soft Flash to cushion his landing.

"That was so heroic," Wonder Woman swooned.

"Holy Hestia, Batman!" Hawkgirl yelled.

"You remind me of someone when you do that," he replied.

"Really? Who?"

Batman paused. "I don't remember."

Superman was walking by again and took out his notepad. "Super memory - check." He turned to make another pass. (16)

"Man, you really got him." Green Lantern was inspecting the dent in the NASA-grade titanium wall where Flash's head hit. He looked down at the kayoed body on the floor. "And look. He still got stabbed."

"Yeah, but . . . it hit him in a nonfatal place," Batman defended.

Lantern handed Batman's batarang back to him.

"Uagh," Flash groaned as he came to. He clutched his head. "Super headache - check," he moaned. He hissed as the movement of his arm caused the stab wound in his shoulder to yell at him. He didn't even want to think about the pain his ribs were causing, and the crash into the wall and the ensuing tumble down the length of it broke open the stitching on his ankle. He leaned to the side and threw up. It was all he could do to keep himself from passing out in the puddle of acid, mucous, and blood.

Green Lantern grabbed Flash's shoulder and pulled him back upright where he promptly lost all semblance of consciousness. "There's blood in this," he stated (the obvious).

"You probably knocked one of his broken ribs to puncture something," Hawkgirl told Batman.

"I don't think so," Batman said. "I bet it's a bleeding ulcer."

"Never your fault, huh?" Hawkgirl asked. Batman gave a curt nod.

"There's a little cut in his esophagus," Superman pointed nonchalantly. (17)

"How'd that get there?" Lantern asked.

"I didn't cause it," Superman scoffed. "Duh."

"Could you do something about this?" Green Lantern gestured toward the bleeding ankle. Superman used his heat vision and cauterized the reopened wound.

"I'm taking him back to the infirmary, then he'll probably go to his quarters. J'onn doesn't want him staying in there with all those sharp objects."

"I don't know where J'onn is. He left the infirmary as soon as you did."

"Hmm," Green Lantern "hmmed" as he lifted Flash's full weight. "He's probably off doing Martian things. Or voodoo things. Or J'onn things."

Batman sighed. "Then go check the giant space laser, or the shrunken head symposium, or the-" He stopped his sarcastic reply to glance at his comrades. They shrugged. No one really knew what J'onn did. "Y-Y-You know what; just go."

So he did.

· ¤§¤ ·

(14) And that's why you don't shove cripples. Found that out the hard way.

(15) Who hasn't?

(16) I think he's just sauntering around the station. Maybe he's exercising. I mean, if he's just naturally strong because of the yellow sun, then there would be no resistance for him to build those muscles. He's got plenty of reason - no one who will be donning spandex should be indistinguishable from the StayPuff Marshmallow Man, but can you imagine how much stronger he is than other Kryptonians? He must exercise all the freakin' time.

(17) No worries. It doesn't go through the esophageal wall. An aneurysm just ruptured from all the coughing. This can actually look like someone's bleeding to death because they will undoubtedly purge due to the stomach's hatred of blood, but it's not that bloody for him. He's been coughing a lot. I'd guess the acid from the earlier nausea didn't help the aneurysm none, neither. I couldn't rely on Superman to explain this with any understandability.

· ¤§¤ ·

Is DACKER SPANIEL still out there? 'Cause I've got news for you that you might not find so thrilling. My sister has been emailing people to find out when they're going to put certain shows on DVD like The Nanny and the next season of Barney Miller and Perfect Strangers and Night Court and she sent one to Disney to find out about DuckTales for me because I'm still completely in love with that show and they sent a letter back to her that said something along the lines of "What is a DuckTales?"

That sucks goose butt. Serious goose butt.