For Talk Like A Pirate Day: Sulu’s Gay Trek!

In honor of today being Talk Like A Pirate Day, I again repost one of my fanfics.



CAPTAIN NERO: Avast, me mighty manly Romulan mining crew, for aboard me mighty manly starship, even the women are mighty manly! Our big mining starship has just passed through a big space-time rift, and now I spy a puny little starship whose captain might tell us where to find that logical Spock scoundrel upon whom we wish to wage our manly vengeance! ARM ALL WEAPONS!!!



FIRST OFFICER GEORGE KIRK: (talking on his communicator) Really, honey? Your labor pains feel like he’s throwing full body blows?

THE NAVIGATOR: (a young man of Japanese descent hunching over his navigation console) Sir? I detect a tremendous space-time-from-the-future disturbance from that giant stormy rift! And another incredibly manly disturbance from that gigantic ship that just emerged from the rift! (He studies the readings.) As though everyone on that ship is so manly that they only like other… wait, the disturbances are combining…


THE NAVIGATOR: Into a concentrated energy wave that covers the entire sexual spectrum! And it’s heading directly at our ship! Um, along with a bunch of really big torpedoes and disruptor rays.

THE CAPTAIN OF THE KELVIN: You might have led with that last thing. SHIELDS UP!


The entire bridge lurches to tilt at a 30 degree angle. Sparks fly out of control consoles that, after all these centuries, still do not have circuit breakers installed. Crewman fall out of their chairs.

THE NAVIGATOR: (picking himself off the floor) When are they gonna put seat belts on starships? (He checks his console.) Oh no, shields are down! We’re open to any energy attack imaginable!

A rainbow energy baseball rushes toward the main bridge viewscreen, and through it, and onto the navigator’s fly.

THE NAVIGATOR: (doing a double back flip) wwwwWWWWOW!!!


THE NAVIGATOR: (staggering) Oh… my… I just felt a surge of incredibly manly energy! Enough to bend sexual space-time 180 degrees!

The main viewscreen lights up with Nero’s mighty manly face.

CAPTAIN NERO: Avast, enemy captain! I be Nero of the Romulan mining ship Narada! Shiver yer timbers over to me bridge where I will torture you for information about that scurvy dog, Admiral Spock!


THE NAVIGATOR: Narada? Isn’t that Romulan for raging rainbow?

CAPTAIN NERO: (his tattooed face turning several shades of red, or green if that is the color of Romulan blood) ARRRRR!!! Me blood be boiling with rage! Prepare to enter the Romulan version of Davy Jones’ Locker!

THE CAPTAIN OF THE KELVIN: (disappearing in a transporter beam) But I’m not even wearing a red shirt!

THE NAVIGATOR: (to the first officer) Sir, their incredibly big and manly weapons are powering up again. Speaking of manly, shall we man all escape pods?

FIRST OFFICER GEORGE KIRK: Yeah, save one for me while I distract Mr. Romulan Road Rage. Computer! Set the autopilot for a collision course with that mining ship!

Computer voice from control console: (singing) Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.

FIRST OFFICER GEORGE KIRK: Nuts. Looks like I’m the designated driver.


A hospital room. The navigator stands beside a hospital bed where a young Japanese woman holds her newborn baby.

THE WOMAN: (lovingly looking at the navigator) He’s beautiful. (She looks at the baby.) Little Hikaru Sulu. My healthy and strong baby boy. And so stubborn!


The woman points to the baby’s diaper. It is colored like a rainbow.

THE WOMAN: We tried white, blue, and even pink, but he kept tearing them off.

THE BABY: (looking into the camera and smiling) Oh, my!

Keef Knight!!! Woke on Hulu NOW!!!

It is Friday, and I now start up episode 1! YAY!!! I will record my thoughts. And I will play Keef’s drinking game. I have a Scandinavian cider next to me, and I will sip for 2 of the 4 items:

  • After every microaggression, and
  • Every time I recognize something from a Keef comic.
    (I will not consume an edible, nor will I toke.)

A white guy sees Keef on the bus, and says, “Keef Knight? I didn’t think you’d be so… tall.” SIP!

Saw a Keef comic (well, likely drawn for the show). I will count that. SIP!

Keef has a black girlfriend. The only woman I have ever seen Keef with is his German-American wife, Kerstin. (But then, I have mostly seen Keef at comic cons, who knows what hedonism he does when not on the con?) When I first met Kerstin, her German accent was more prominent. I have two characters inspired by Keef and Kerstin in stories I am working on. I just had to keep her accent strong, like when she scolds her two little energetic doggie-superpowered sons (Tucker and Wrigley), “Ach, you little schnitzels, behave!” I gotta kid the real Keef about the hot girlfriend. Hmm, maybe he had one in real life before Kerstin… wait, I’m not saying that Kerstin is not hot! She is nice looking, but I don’t look at her that way… seriously, Kerstin is one of those women who, when you meet her, you know why he married her. She’s a sweetheart. Well, at least at comic cons.

Toast N Butter is his syndicated comic in Woke? I gotta ask Keef about that if I get the chance. Keef is syndicated, but he got in just as the bottom fell out of the newspaper market. I hope he makes $$$ from Hulu.

The black newspaper woman telling Keef that if he is a black cartoonist, he’s controversial (she is looking for that). Hmm, is that really a microaggression? Oh, what the heck. SIP!

The music is good. Some of it is hip hoppy. I kinda wish they’d play some Marginal Prophets, Keef’s old band. I would go see them and be the oldest thing in the room jumping up and down. Mostly down.

This is filmed in Vancouver, isn’t it? Everything is filmed in Vancouver. If Super Holly ever gets animated, I bet they stick her in Vancouver. Even if she flies through a dimensional portal (she does that a lot), she’d end up in a steampunk version of Vancouver.

They mentioned Aaron McGruder, who did The Boondocks (fun while it lasted). Keef used to kid that he was gonna get his fans to go up to Aaron and say, “Hey, Keef, can I have your autograph?”

Gunther is funny, but he is more hippy dippy than I expected. From Keef’s comics, I am used to thinking of him as a big friendly doofus.

Keef hands out fliers like crazy. Always working. At comic cons, Keef always kept his mind on his business.

And the cops tackle Keef and they all have their guns out (they think he’s a mugger, and naturally with a black mugger you gotta instantly be ready to dispense lethal force). Years ago, Keef told me the story of that happening to him, and the cops told Keef they were looking for a six foot tall black man. Years ago, I remember thinking, “Wow, that narrows it down. Do the SF cops ever look for a six foot tall white guy, while ignoring weight, clothes, shoes, age, facial hair, maybe an AK-47 stuffed into his pants?” Anyway. Gunther runs up to the cops, Keef on the ground with the cop on top says, “No!” He fears Gunther will get tackled or hurt. Surprise surprise, the cops holster their guns for the white guy, even if he’s hippy dippy.

Liquor bottles in a store talk to Keef! He is WOKE!!! HEE HEE!!! I love the expressions on the bottles. The artist who did it knows that it is all in the face (I wonder if Keef designed that?). I learned that face lesson during Amanda Conners’ run on Power Girl, google that, believe it or not I looked at her face). But her build did inspire Super Holly (I wanted Holly to have that problem). “Doncha know malt liquor makes black people immune to bullets?” My first audible laugh! What the heck? SIP! AHHH!!!

The bottles mention superpowers. I once asked Keef what would be his superpower. He said the power to make people hurl by looking at them, because he was riding an SF bus, looked at someone on the sidewalk, and he vomited. This happened three times, three different people, on the same bus ride. For now, I gave my Keef character super-speed, since Keef draws fast and admires Sergio Aragonés.

ARGH, the commercials are AGGRESSIVELY LOUD!!! (I am too cheap to pay for no ads.) I will NOT drink to that! C’mon, Hulu, a little audio balancing, please?

Toast N Butter again. I just thought of the old Milk and Cheese comics by Erin Dorkin, (extremely bloody, over-the-top and hilarious cartoon violence) and how some chatty Hollywood woman called him up and asked if she could license them to promote good nutrition in a children’s cartoon. Erin said, “Well, you know Milk and Cheese are alcoholics.”

I laughed out loud again! The two chatty newspaper people show Keef his publicity photo, and Keef notices, “Did you lighten my photo? Am I too black for my own comic strip?” The white guy says, “Trust me, ha ha ha, no one’s ever gonna accuse you of being too black, okay?” SIP!

Hmm, Keef has Vancouver breath. Steam came out his mouth. I hate the cold.

Ah, some smooth jazzy music right after the barber shop. So cool. Not on the list, but… SIP!

Keef tosses the trash can, Spike Lee style, sorta. I laughed again.

The talking wooden spoon is a hoot! Did cowboys really do that to their horses?

Matrix reference! Red pill, blue pill! It fits!

Oh, a comic con, I miss those so much. Sigh. Wow, they really whitened up Keef’s comic con photo! Hmm, when I first met Keef, he had dreadlocks. Maybe that hairstyle is too high maintenance for Hulu. Or too old school? I remember when Keef cut his hair shorter, and on his comic con table was a large baggie with a label on it: “Buy this bag of stinky dreads!” I gotta put that into a story.

“This is San Francisco!” says the white guy dressed up like burned toast, and has the black face to match. “We don’t see color here!” Funny when Stephen Colbert said it, funny now! SIP!

7 minutes 11 seconds left, and not much mango berry cider left. I’m in trouble.

I love how clueless Gunther is.

A line I wanna steal, except Hulu is too big to steal from: “I am the sausage!”

Keef’s rant at the con had classical music to back it up! So CLASSY!!! Okay, I got a weak spot for classical music because I can find some royalty free for my stories.

Okay, I doubt Keef ever tossed a lucrative syndication down the crapper, but after all, we gotta do dramatic license. Like on Law and Order when the judge tosses the video tape of the murderer slicing up a family into hamburger on a technicality. And maybe because the murderer was white? Still hard for me to imagine the real Keef doing that, but even harder to imagine Keef not sticking to his principles. He has had newspaper reject his comics before, I know, cuz I got his books! (actually, I have a little catching up to do.) So I guess this fits. Besides, newspaper syndication went down the crapper anyhow.

How is Keef gonna recover from this debacle, this self-inflicted yet woke and moral wound? Hmm, maybe he can get a fancy show on Hulu… wait, that is the real Keef, who worked his way up for many many many years, and he has earned every scrap of success. It is always sweet when it happens to someone you know. (Well, I don’t see Keef much nowadays. But I hesitate to say “knew,” I might still see him again.)

And here’s the credits! What is Keef gonna do now? Cliffhanger! And I got cider left! YES!!! Here’s to you, Keef! SIPPP!!!

I have to admit that I have a MAJOR complaint! Riddle me this, Batman, is Woke ever gonna be shown in movie theaters? No? THEN WHY IS IT SHOWN IN SUPER WIDE SCREEN WITH THOSE FRAKKING BLACK BARS ON THE TOP AND BOTTOM OF MY TV?!?! (I’d complain just as LOUD if they were white bars, okay?) C’mon, if you are not a theatrical movie, FILL UP THE DAMN TV SCREEN ALREADY!!! (I watched the latest episode of The Boys on Amazon, and they do the super wide screen thing too, so I think I am gonna have Super Holly kick the crap out of Homelander.) I wish they’d stop with the big fat black bars already. I bought a 43 inch TV thinking it would be plenty big enough, and now they go outta their way to rub my cheapness in my face!

My cliffhanger for the rest of Woke’s first season: To binge, or not to binge! Oh, what the heck, I cued up episode 2 even though I will likely go to bed before it is over. But it is titled, “What Prequels?” From the Keef comic sticker and comic strip where he taught his son, “there are only 3 Star Wars Movies!” Here goes the last of my cider. SSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPAAAAAHHHH!!! Sigh. I loved that cider. Went to a good cause.

My conclusion: Woke will wake up your wits, raise your I.Q., and unclog your arteries. Check it out.

Farewell, Chadwick Boseman

Sad news of Chadwick “Black Panther” Boseman passing away. Normally I have trouble with kings and queens. Super Holly has a problem with the Disney princess thing. But Chadwick’s Black Panther was royalty that I loved. He did not look down at his subjects, he looked them in the eye. He did not rule over them as much as serve them. He knew that with his great power, came a great responsibility to his country and people.

Chadwick brought a royalty to that part that I swallowed as easily as… hmm… as the late Prolific Oven’s Chocolate Mocha Cake. His Black Panther was calm, wise, never loud, always ready to listen. I give him my ultimate royal compliment: he would have made a great CEO in Silicon Valley. Tech with lots of heart.

I remember watching Avengers Endgame. On one side of me sat a row of kids who loved every minute of it, and cheered in all the right places. During the big final battle, when Black Panther came on screen, a young black girl in that row sang out, “Black Panthah, Black Panthah!” I doubt will ever hear such a joyous, sweet, and cute fangirl cheer ever again.

Now Chadwick’s version of Black Panther has come to an end. Fanboys and fangirls, white and black, will sorely miss him. Super Holly Hansson is sobbing over a consoling slice of chocolate mocha cake, “Wakanda Forever.”

Thanks to Venus Jones for pointing to this SNL on her Facebook.

I added my batty fanfic!

I wrote my fanfic His Biggest Fan, where Holly meets her lifelong crush: Batman! I just added it to My Fan Fiction menu. This menu will expand because that is where I will consolidate all my fan fiction type posts from my blog. It will contain:

  • Stories that I cannot publish in a book, like His Biggest Fan.
  • Blog posts that are short fanfics.
  • Teasers to fanfic stories that I can publish (Sherlock Holmes is public domain).

To start, read His Biggest Fan and enjoy. It was a lot of fun to write. Thanks again to my critique group for their advice. And thanks again to Chloe Dalquist for this Angry Batman art.

Super Holly Hansson in: His Biggest Fan!

Watch an actor be Keef in the Woke Trailer!

Coming September 9! Woke, the Hulu series based on Keith Knight’s comic The K Chronicles and other stuff from his life! Laughs! Live action! Animation! An actor playing KEEF!!! And Keef is a WRITER on the show! Be still, my fanboy heart! (I have been called Keef’s biggest Northern California Fanboy. By me. Within earshot of Keef. He did not disagree.) Over my decades going to comic cons, I have seen cartoonists come, and I have seen them go. And mostly go. Keef is still going, but in a good way! GO KEEF GO!!!

P.S. I have known Keef since his days in his Marginal Prophets band. Don’t see him personally much nowadays since he moved to North Carolina, and since I do not get to the San Diego Comic Con anymore. He is a cool guy, click here to buy his books and stickers and music and stuff.

Outdated Superheroine Types!

I recently attended an online event hosted by Heroic Girls about Marvel’s graphic novel, Mockingbird: I Can Explain. I enjoyed the discussion, and I am buying that book. One of the hosts mentioned that Mockingbird used to be the member of the team who gets knocked out. That inspired me to write some old superheroine types that would not go over well nowadays (thank goodness that writing has a tad more feminism nowadays).

Knockout Girl! The girl on the super team who gets knocked out, and then lies on the ground in such a helpless yet sexy pose that the villain takes her back to his lair, allowing the heroes to track him down. She needs no homing device because the superhero reaction will be, “NOOOO!!! That vile villain has taken beautiful, sweet, wonderful Knockout Girl! What will that fiend do to that helpless heroine? We cannot allow that! LET”S GET HIM!!! GRAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” Then they tear through the city, though brick walls and bank vaults and plenty of red lights and hordes of henchmen to save that damsel in distress. Except she is not distressed because she is unconscious, and only awakens after the villain is beaten to a pulp and the heroes pet her hand and tearfully cry, “Knockout Girl, speak to me!” She wakes up and says, “Uh, what happened?” She sees the villain’s lair and the city ripped apart, and says, “Again? I gotta start wearing a helmet.”

Distraction Girl! Many years ago, when I watched Mission Impossible, I asked my older brother what the woman on the team did. The men all had specific roles: the leader, the muscle, the electronics guy, the disguise expert, etc. My brother said, “She’s a distraction.” Distraction Girl would have the power to distract, helped by her costume that shows plenty of B&B cleavage (B&B = bosom and butt). An added power that breaks the laws of physics is that she can fight in that costume without ever getting a wedgie.

B&B Girl! Has the spine-twisting power to display her bosom and her butt to the reader simultaneously. She dislikes covering her belly in any way.

Traumatic-Sexual-Past Girl! Assaulted when she turned teen! Or watched her entire village slaughtered and raped, or raped and then slaughtered, or her best friend murdered, or some other horrible event that always involves man on girl violence. She trains for years to become a strong and mighty and feared heroine so she can beat up bad guys and never be afraid ever again and not get wedgies in her Distraction Girl outfit.

Looking-For-A-Man Girl! A subset of Traumatic-Sexual-Past Girl. She usually carries a sword, and wanders the land to dispense justice and find a man who can beat her in fair combat so she can go to bed with him.

Copy-Of-Popular-Superhero Girl! A relative or friend of a popular male superhero who gets a copy of his powers or costume or both. This often involves her not knowing she is a superheroine for a long time because when she transforms, her memories do not carry over. (This gets a lot better when the character does stuff the original never did, like get a law degree. She-Hulk is a good lawyer.)

Block-The-Camera Girl! She stands in the comic book panel so her butt blocks the reader’s view, but the typical male reader does not mind.

Tied-Up Girl! Subset of Knockout Girl. Gets tied up at the villain’s lair just in case she wakes up. Can involve her powers going away temporarily if a man does the tying up.

Half-His-Age Girl! This is a creepy one. The superheroine who is a young teen and get a big fat crush on a male superhero on the same team who is twice her age. Often a subset of Copy-Of-Popular-Superhero Girl.

Secretary Girl! I still can’t believe they once did this to Wonder Woman, the most powerful and well-trained warrior superheroine ever. When the superhero team members get the call to action, Secretary Girl says, “I’ll just stay here and type up our meeting notes, but you boys have fun fighting the villains!” She waves and blows a kiss. “Bye bye!”

Mary Sue Girl! Look this type up yourself. Heroes should have flaws. Case in point: Steve Ditko thought his so-called hero Mr. A was a perfect paragon of morality. Read one issue and you will know what the “A” really stands for.

Anyone have other ideas? I thought about Princess Girl, but that is more of a Disney thing. Don’t get me started on that (I know what I am gonna do with it anyhow).

Fanfic: Spongebob’s Soulmate!

Is Spongebob gay? This pulse-pounding controversy has roiled for years! His creator Steven Hillenburg said in 2005 that Spongebob was more asexual. But a recent tweet from Nickelodeon shows these three heroes together in solidarity!

Spongebob would be in good company with that strong bisexual Korra and transgender actor Michael D. Cohen (Cohen’s delightfully goofy scientist accent gives Doctor Doofenshmirtz a run for his money). But is Spongebob really gay? Super Holly finds out in my fanfic!


POP! Another dive through a dimensional portal! Maybe this time… OOF, I landed flat on my back, my red super heroine cape over my face. I flung it aside. The whirling rainbow disk of light above me vanished. And up in the sky! Were they birds? Clouds? Looked more like flowers! Not a normal landscape!

I sat up. And heard a gurgling sound, like bubbling underwater. A building-sized red barrel on its side loomed before me. It had round windows, and a door that swing open, and… TWO ANTHROPOMORPHIC FISH WALKED OUT ON THEIR HIND FINS?!?! I stood up fast! That bubbling sound again! I flapped my arms! More bubbling! I WAS UNDERWATER!!! HOW THE FRAK WAS I NOT DROWNING?!?! I screamed, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

A doofus voice near me: “Pretty.”

That came from a pink starfish about my height standing near me. He wore only Hawaiian shorts. Above his huge smile was no nose, but two big, wide, dreamy eyes drinking in the sight of me. He said, “Uhhhhhh…”

Lots of little boys had that reaction to me. It was kinda cute. I did look the stereotype of the tall, strong, beautiful superheroine. Maybe because I was one. Used to write comic books, now I live them. Pink hearts orbited the pink guy’s pointy head.

I smiled kindly at my latest and bigger fanboy. “My name’s Super Holly Hansson. Where am I? And what’s your name?”

His open-mouth smile grew bigger. Was that a drop of drool? “Uhhhhhhhh…”

The door flew open again, revealing a fat red crab in pants and suspenders and shirt (with sweat in the armpits, EW!). He sounded like someone stuck in Talk Like A Pirate Day. “Avast, Patrick! Stop blocking the door from the lovely lady or I’ll keelhaul yuh!” He scuttled up to me, his tiny legs moving incredibly fast. With a big car-salesman smile, he announced, “Welcome to the Krusty Krab, the finest eatin’ establishment in all of Bikini Bottom! Mind steppin’ in and spending some money?” He put his claws on his bulging belly, and, “ARR ARR ARR ARR ARR!!!”

That wasn’t an evil laugh, just greedy. I had to ask if he’d seen my long-lost mommy, that was why I was dimension-hopping. “Sir, has any woman who looks a little like me ever shown up in your town before?”

He took my hand in his sweaty claw. “I’m afraid not, not in my fifty years on this shore!” He led me past several tables where more fish people munched hamburgers. He stopped before a stand with a cash register. “Squidward! Help the young lady!”

A surly squid at the register slumped and sighed like a bored, unappreciated artist. “May I take your order?”

Order? I had not even seen the menu! Now it was my turn to say, “Uhhhhhhh…”

A high, joyous sing-song: “Try a Krabby Patty!”

In a window in the wall behind Squidward was a life-size yellow bath sponge! With big blue perfect-circle eyes, and a bright smile that could only come from someone who had found his purpose in life, his fantasy fulfilled, his dream come true. He piped at me, “It’s the most delicious food in all the world! It’ll make you grow big and strong!”

Patrick floated beside me, still ogling me like a loving doggie. “Will they make her more beauuuuuuuuuuuutiful?”

Squidward snorted. “Oh, please, Spongebob, the only thing those grease bombs grow is cholesterol in your arteries!”

Spongebob’s skinny yellow arms stretched out the window and shoved a tray with a hamburger, fries, and a drink into my hands. “Try one!”

“Well, okay, I haven’t had brunch yet.” I sniffed the burger. Didn’t smell fishy. My lips smacked of their own accord. My tummy rumbled, that was interesting! I took a bite…

WOW!!! WOW WOW WOW WOW!!! I flew to the ceiling, spinning, tumbling, loop-dee-looping! My taste buds literally sang, I heard them in my mouth! “Wee! We love Krabby Patties, Krabby Patties, Krabby Patties, we love Krabby Patties, they taste so GOOD!!!”

I mumbled, “Shut up! That’s too weird!” They shut up. I guessed cartoon physics worked here. I gently floated to the floor and slowed my hyperventilating breaths to normal. I shoved the patty down my gullet in two superpowered bites! Not caring who heard me, I sang out, “MORRRRRRRE!!!”

His eyes half-lidded in irritation, Squidward said, “How many, Miss?”

I patted my tummy. “An even dozen?”

As I expected, my tummy rumbled, “Good start.”

Spongebob zipped through a door next to that kitchen window and up to me. He held a tray of Krabby Patties, service with a big bright smile and big sparkling eyes. “Here you go! You want fries with that… Hey, Patrick! It’s not polite to stare at the customers!”

Patrick held my tray with my drink and fries. He blinked several times, leaned toward Spongebob, and did a really loud whisper that carried through the entire room. “Sorry. But she’s so pretty!”

Squidward sneered, “Oh, yes, she’s the picture of poise.”

I was stuffing my face and I did not care who saw and besides my boyfriend Cal was not here to correct my table manners! “GLOOMPH GLUMPH MMMMNCH MMMMMNCH MMMMNCH!!! GOBBLE GLURBLE UMMFLE OINK!!! GRIND, MASTICATE, CHEW CHEW GULP!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” I grinned down at Spongebob. “Yummy.”

Partick’s hearts orbited his head faster, his eyes drenching me like lovesick waves. “A super appetite. I love you.”

I picked up that little square yellow greasy spoon cook and kissed his giggling mouth: “MMM-WAH!!! And I love those patties, they’re ultra super-duper amazing! What’s in these things?”

Patrick said, “Uh oh.”

Spongebob lost his smile. He aimed a spatula at me like Zorro defending the poor. “No one but me and Mister Krabs must know the secret formula!”

A deep, joyous, villainous, mad scientist voice thundered throughout the Krusty Krab! “AND ME!!! PLANKTON!!! Thanks to this curvaceous cutie distracting everyone, my computer wife has opened the safe and stolen the Krabby Patty formula! Soon, I SHALL RULE ALL OF BIKINI BOTTOM!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!”

I put up my dukes! I cast my heroic gaze left and right, to the doors and windows, at Patrick, Mr. Krabs, Squidward, at every table and dozens of fish people! “Where are you, vile villain? Where, WHERE?!?!” Huh? I shook my head fast. Why was I acting like this? I burped. Oh. Those patties had quite a kick.

The villain voice again, annoyed this time. “Down here, lady.”

I looked down. A little green one-eyed jellybean with antenna and teeny-tiny limbs glared up at me. His voice dripped with melodramatic menace. “You have served your purpose, FOOL! Now stand aside or be swept aside!”

He stood inches from my right toe. I raised my foot in a gonna-squash-a-grape gesture, looked down my eagle-beaky nose at him, and let loose a catchphrase! “So, there’s evil afoot!”

Squidward groaned. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

At a nearby table, an old man with white hair, a basketball-round body dressed like the old time Aquaman, a starfish on his nose, and a bra over his chest sat up straight. His eyes went wide. He hyperventilated. He said as though fishing for an idea, “Evil? Evil? EVIL!” He stood up and ran-ran-ran-ran-ran all over the restaurant! “EEEEEEEEEEVIL!!! EVIL-EVIL-EVIL-EVIL-EVIL-EEEEEEEEVIL!!!”

I looked down at Plankton. “Local superhero?”

Plankton sneered up at me. “Mermaid Man. He’s what Bikini Bottom rates in the super department— OWITCH!”

Mermaid Man had run past me and stomped on Plankton. “EVIL-EVIL-EVIL-EVIL-EVIL-EVIL!!!”

A skinny old man in a sailor suit chased Mermaid Man. “Don’t run! You’ll lose your slippers again!”

Plankton, now a squished splotch with an eye and a mouth, yelled, “Stop, you cretin— OWITCH!” Mermaid Man had run past again. Plankton was a wider, flatter splotch. “Stop stomping me— OOOTCH! You must not interfere with my triumph— OWITCH! Karen, my computer wife! HELLLLP!!!”

A CRT computer monitor on a tall metal rod with wheels stood by an open safe door in the wall. Its voice was feminine and sarcastic with a dash of Minnesota deadpan, a line on its CRT face waveforming to match its every syllable. “Okay, hold your horses.”

A panel opened on the side of Karen’s CRT head. A nozzle poked out and squirted a white liquid into Mermaid Man’s mouth: BLURP!!!

Mermaid Man stopped in his tracks. He smiled, closed his eyes, floated in a beddy-bye position, and softly snored. “SNORRRRK, evil evil, evil. SNORRRRK, evil evil, evil.”

The skinny old man glared at Karen, his liver spots steaming with rage. “What did you do to him?”

“This.” Karen shot another white glob into his mouth. “Warm milk. Nighty night, Barnacle Boy.”

The skinny old man floated and snored also. “SNERRRRK, HEE-BEE-BEE-BEE! SNERRRRK, HEE-BEE-BEE-BEE!”

I had faced goofy heroes and villains before, and that experience helped me keep a proper heroic face. “Okay, Karen, you know your kryptonite. But you’ll find me a little tougher. Want to see me juggle some army tanks?” I smacked my unstoppable fist into my immovable palm: THOOM!!! “Or find your RESET button?”

“Not particularly.” BLURP!!!

UGH! The up-arrow logo on the chest of my blue supersuit was covered with a fishy, smelly, glowing, sickly green goo! I tried to reach to wipe it off, but my arms were heavier than lead walruses. I fell to my knees, then onto my side, then with the last of my strength, I rolled onto my back. I gasped, “You found… my kryptonite.”

Karen wheeled to my side. She put one robot hand where hips would be if she had hips. Her other hand held a bottle with a slip of paper inside. “Sheldon’s analyze-the-superhero-and-synthesize-the-weakness app worked perfectly. That green lutefisk will keep you weak and helpless so I can steal the Krabby Patty formula.”

I gasped, “Sheldon?”

Plankton had reformed to jellybean normal. Cartoon physics again. He growled, “That’s my first name.”

Several fish-patrons giggled. “Sheldon? HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

Plankton rolled his eyes, or rather, his eye. “Yes, I know it’s a funny name.” He reached to his side, where a pocket magically appeared, and pulled out a raygun ten times his size. “Now everyone step aside while Karen and I make our getaway!”

Mr. Krabs dashed in front of the front entrance and defensively spread his arms. “NOOO!!! You shall not escape—” BLURP!!!

Mr. Krabs was frozen in wide-eyed, arms-spread panic, covered in gloppy gluey goo. Plankton’s gun barrel was steaming, and I had to admit he had a great evil laugh, throaty and gleeful and relishing its job. “HAAAAA, HA HA HA HA, HAAAAA!!! How do you like my tartar-sauce one-hour immobilization gun, Krabs?”

Spongebob zipped before the front door, holding his spatula like a fencing master. “You won’t get away with the secret formula, Plankton! NEVER!”

Plankton sighed. “Oh, please.” And he fired! BLURP!!!

Spongebob parried the goo with a flip of his spatula: SPLAT! “Hah! Your evil is no match for my patty flipping skills! Have at thee!”


And Patrick knelt at my side, held my hand, and petted my hair. His face was full of love and worry. “Are you all right?”

I smiled up at my doofus fanboy. “No. This green stuff makes me weak as a kitten.”

Patrick goofily grinned down at me. “I can fix that!” His mouth formed into a big funnel which he aimed at my chest. He inhaled and inhaled and inhaled like he had no need ever to ever exhale again: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

The lutefisk on my chest flew into his mouth in big green glowing gooey fishy blobs: SHHTUP! SHHHHTOOP! BLOOP BLOOP, BLOP BLOP BLOP, BLOP-BLOP-BLOP-BLOP-BLOP-BLOP-BLOP!!!

Oh, so much better, no green goo, I felt my strength flowing back! I sat up. Or rather, I was pulled up, Patrick kept on with his sucking! My up-arrow super logo stretched toward his mouth! And beneath it, my superheroine chest was pulled toward him like two liquid metal basketballs toward an irresistible electromagnet! I tried to scoot away, but that suction was so STRONG, I was being dragged toward him! I screamed, “Patrick! Stop sucking! THIS IS A CHILDREN’S SHOW! STOP!!!”

Patrick stopped inhaling, swallowed the lutefisk (EWWWW!), and smacked his lips. “BURRRP! Oh. Sorry.”

I shot to my feet! “Plankton! Spongebob! I gotta save the day!”

“YEE HAW! Ah reckon the day is plum saved already!” That tuff Texan female voice came from a squirrel in a diving suit. She had Karen hogtied with rope, Plankton tied with what looked like dental floss. She grinned at me. “Well, howdy! I declare, yer long blond hair is sunnier than a field fulla Texan corn!”

Plankton was yelling, he was not the go-quietly type. “Release me, you ridiculous rodent! I must have that formula!” He flopped like a jumping bean on its last legs. “GRAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Karen shook her big cubical head. “Oh, hush up, sweetheart, and let’s request the same cell this time.”

I strode over to the squirrel and shook her hand. “So, I think Bikini Bottom has a native superheroine! My name’s Holly Hansson.”

She took my hand, wow, what a grip! “Sandy Cheeks! Pleased to meet cha! Mind holdin’ still for a sec?” She pulled a test-tubed, antenna-ridden gizmo out of her pocket that would be at home in a 1950s science fiction movie. She pointed it at me. It beeped and flashed and spat out a slip of paper. Sandy read it. “Lan’ sakes! You done popped over from another dimension! Don’t explain why you shortened up to my size and learned to breath water, unless…” She glared at Plankton. “Okay, Sheldon, spill it.”

Fish police were taking Plankton and Karen away. Plankton’s lips pursed like he’d bitten a lemon, and he spilt in one long snarling angry breath. “I was experimenting with dimensional portals, and I locked onto one and adjusted it so anything coming through would adapt to Bikini Bottom, and this woman popped out, and I knew she’d distract everyone in the Krusty Krab while Karen and I stole the Krabby Patty formula, and she’ll revert to normal when she goes home, OKAY?!?!” He glared at Karen. “Why didn’t you stop that squirrel?”

Karen wheeled into a paddy wagon that had backed up to the front door. “I was out of nuts, okay?”

“Wow,” I said to Sandy, “those two know their villainous exposition. How’d you know where I’m from?”

“Shucks, me and Plankton are the science geniuses in this town.” Sandy clapped me on the back, I actually felt that!

Patrick was at my side, hearts orbiting his head a bit faster. “Pretty.”

I kissed Patrick’s cheek. He tasted like fat cotton candy. “Thanks for helping me, big pink fanboy. But I think you better visit the bathroom before that green lutefisk hits your lower intestine.”

I heard a splashy PLOP. Patrick’s big goofy smile faded. The pink hearts around his head popped. He yelled, “EXCUSE ME,” and ran to the bathroom.

Sandy chuckled. “Ah think Patrick’s taken a fancy to you, Holly!”

I chuckled too. “A lot of my little fanboys do that. And a few bigger ones.”

Spongebob had sidled up to me. “Hope you liked your Krabby Patties! Do you need anything else?”

I knelt down to his big blue eye level. “Yeah. I need you to open a Krusty Krab in my dimension. Those were the best burgers I ever savored!” I kissed his forehead: “MMM-WAH! Thank you!”

I’d half expected a few yellow hearts to orbit his square head, or body, it all kinda merged into one yellow rectangle. But nothing, except that Spongebob pulled a hanky out of his pocket and wiped off my strawberry-scented lip prints. “You’re welcome! I’ll talk to Mr. Krabs about that branch.” He skipped back to the kitchen with a “La la la, la la! La la la, la la!”

Hmm. I turned to Sandy. “Patrick went gaga over me. But not Spongebob. Has he ever had, um, a girlfriend?”

Sandy thought a moment. “Hmm. Ah’m a girl, and ah’m his friend.” Then her eyes lit up, she threw back her head and held her belly. “HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW, that is a real knee slapper! Wuz yer next question gonna be, does he have a boyfriend? Patrick’s a boy and he’s Spongebob’s best friend!”

I stared at the bathroom door. “You mean, him and him?”

Sandy laughed harder, slapping her knees. “YEEEEE HAW HAW HAW HAW HAWWWW!!! You are a silly one, Super Holly! Spongebob has lotsa friends. But Spongebob just likes them. Not LIKE likes them!”

“Really. Well well.” I looked to the kitchen. I sniffed, oh, Krabby Patties, so yummy, so enticing! My tummy rumbled! “I’m gonna order some patties to go, my return portal will appear any minute!” But my heart sank. “Poor little yellow guy. No soulmate.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “It’s not good to be lonely.”

Sandy tugged my arm. “We better git in line before the lunch rush. And don’t yew fret none for Spongebob. He has a soulmate. His job!”

The kitchen door opened. Spongebob danced out like a ballerina, holding a tray stacked high with Krabby Patties. He sang, “I love Krabby Patties, cooking them for you! Here’s your Krabby Patties, for you and you and you!” With each “you” he tossed the Krabby Patties onto customer tables with pinpoint accuracy. Then he tippy-toed back to the kitchen. “Krabby Patties, Krabby Patties, I love YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!”

Squidward sighed heavily. “Is it quitting time yet?”


I am thinking about having a character based on Obama be in a story, maybe a president who proposes and passes some type of comic book / superpower act that get some of the Comic Book Code plot going. But I’d want to make him more nerdy. Not too Urkel. Super-well spoken? Big ears? C’mon. Barak, admit it, you’re a comic book geek! Gooble Gobble, Gooble Gobble, one of us, one of us!

Art by Alex Ross.

Where do you get your ideas?

A question that even a puny self-published writer like me get asked is, “Where do you get your ideas?” I look at our big wunnerful world, and I ask, “What would (insert one of my characters) do?”

Racist cop points his gun at a young black kid and goes BANG? “What would Super Holly do?” Knock the stuffing out of them, go to court, and be the worst client the defense lawyer ever had. Hmm, I also want to introduce my character Flim Flam Shrub, a combination of J.R.Ewing and Davros from Doctor Who? He can be the judge! He’d get a kick out of Holly: “HEE HEE HEE, yew are a fiesty filly!” (Note: Tell your kids that I will not kill off poor little Wrigley, the doggiest of the Puppy Brothers. I like happy endings.)

Brett Kavanaugh’s answer to charges of drunken attempted rape (not boofing, Brett doesn’t know what that means, honest!) is the EEEEEEVIL Clintons and liberals wanna get him (but soon it’s gonna be payback time!), and “Do you like beer, Senator?” I ask, “What would Bart Boofalug do?” Use his power over beer to try to blow up a baseball game, that’ll show those kneeling liberals!

Colin Kaepernick takes a knee at football games. To follow up on Bart Boofalug, that beer is gonna explode! I ask, “What would Super Holly do?” Holly can drink it and contain the blast and save thousands of innocents… but she hates beer! She needs help! So my Colin-guy starts the chant, “Chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug!”

A virus spreads over America and Prez-uh-DUNCE Trump shuts down the pandemic wing, defunds WHO, says why not gargle bleach, and pushes a drug he has a $take in as a cure-all? I ask, “What would Billington Stumpfinger do?” Um, pretty much that.

P.S. I was also inspired by the old George Reeves Superman TV show where he drank an explosive liquid. Sometimes goofy TV makes more sense than reality.

P.P.S. I gotta finish those stories. So much reality, so much to write. Sigh. Holly really wants to do more of this.

A complete short story!

On Facebook’s Concellation 2020, there was a thread from a Michele McCullough who said, “So… I’m a fat girl and thought it would be funny to cosplay Katniss Everdeen as Fatniss Everdeen.” And in the discussion, I mentioned my plus-size superheroine: Teri Silver, The Smiling Samurai. And Michele said she’d like to read it. So I posted it under my upcoming stories. Or you can click the link below. Read and (hopefully) enjoy.