Prompt Post 3: Spider-Man Fan Fiction Part 1

Note: This takes place in the Sam Raimi/Tobey Maguire movie trilogy universe, not the regular comic book one. I’d also like to apologize in advance for all of the exposition at the beginning. I felt it was necessary, however, for those that either haven’t seen the movies, or haven’t watched them in a while and have forgotten what happens in them

A little over a year ago, he was in this exact same spot. Back then, he was resting with the love of his life right after he saved her from being killed by one of his heroes, his mentor. His eyes drifted to the spot in the water that the warehouse, and Dr. Otto Octavius, sank to the bottom of the river. As bad as all that was, it was far simpler than what he had been through lately.

His best friend had just died after helping him fight a rival from work and the man who shot and killed his uncle. That took place right after he was brainwashed into being a jerk to everyone in his life, including Mary Jane. Sure, they had reconciled, but things weren’t the same between them.

So, he had come out to this spot. The NYPD had begun sending dive teams down to the bottom of the river not long ago to try to salvage anything that may be left of Octavius’ machine. While Peter didn’t think they would actually find anything, he also didn’t want to take any chances. Besides, it helped keep his mind off of everything else. 

He sat up high, watching the people as they worked for what seemed like hours. It could have been only a few minutes for all he could tell. After all, his costume didn’t feature a watch. Maybe I should look into adding one, he thought to himself. You never know when that may become a critical piece of information to have.

His mind soon devolved into a jumble of the pros and cons of wearing a watch while fighting crime. His contemplations were soon interrupted by the distant shouts of excited workers. It was followed immediately after by the sounds of one of the powerful wenches turning on. They had found something. 

He wanted to swing down and get a closer look at what they were about to drag out of the water, but he knew he shouldn’t. Opinion of him was pretty much split right down the middle. Some people saw him as a hero. Others, as a menace. If he tried to get nearer and someone who wasn’t a fan of his saw him, it could cause a commotion that would make it impossible to see what he wanted to see. So, instead, he pulled out his camera and zoomed in as much as he could.

The wreckage that they pulled out looked very familiar to him. It was indeed part of the machinery that Octavius had sunk with. The wreckage was one of the machine’s curved arms, along with the panel that controlled the whole thing. He snapped a few pictures and thought about going home. After all, there wasn’t a whole lot for him to do here other than watch people work. Of course, as soon as that thought entered his head, that was when the cries of alarm began ringing out.

Gunshots soon followed as the police down below opened fire on something. From as far away as he was, it looked like the disturbance was a black form that was floating above the ground. Immediately, his heart dropped. The first thought that popped into his head was that it was a Goblin. That’s impossible, he shook the thought out of his head. Both men who had the Goblin Glider were now dead. Then again, there was a chance that someone else at Oscorp had access to the design. Maybe it was somebody new.

Regardless of who it was, or what the people below may think of him, he couldn’t sit back and watch anymore. He had to act. 

As he swung down from his perch, the black form had reached the wreckage and yanked the control panel off of it. The force of his pull caused the structure to tip over. Two of the workers were cowering right where the piece of machinery was falling. Spider-Man had no choice. He had to save them before he gave chase. 

With one hand on the swinging web, he shot another web out of his other. The web latched onto his target. To his dismay, however, once he started pulling on it, he saw that only one of the workers had been snared by his web. There wasn’t time to try another web. Determined to save one of them, he continued pulling on the web until the whole thing crashed into the ground.

Once the dust settled, he was surprised to see that both workers made it out. The second worker, seeing his comrade begin to slide away, grabbed ahold of the first’s ankle and hitched a ride out of there. Now that he didn’t have to worry about them any more, he turned his attention back to the black form. 

Several police officers, plus a few other dock workers, pointed the fleeing form out. It was headed back towards the city. Whoever, or whatever, that was needed to be taken care of quickly before it either got away or put more people in danger. He swung away, chasing the black form as quickly as he could. 

The black form maintained a healthy lead until they started getting deeper into the city. As the buildings grew talker, Spider-Man had more options to hook his webs to and he started catching up. When he closed to within about 100 yards, the black form turned abruptly down an alleyway. Spider-Man came up to the corner of the building at the edge of the alleyway and started to make the turn himself. 

Suddenly, his spider sense started tingling. 

On instinct, he let go of his web and fell towards the ground. A large, empty metal dumpster flew over his head, swishing through the spot he would’ve been in if he didn’t let go. The ground was coming up quickly, so he shot another web to try to catch himself. It was only partially successful. He still hit the ground, but not as hard as he would have. His forward momentum sent him tumbling for around ten feet before he was able to stop himself. It was painful, but he popped up almost immediately to look for his attacker. They were gone.

He double checked the surrounding areas, but there was no sign of the black form to be seen. His mind raced. Who could be behind it? All of the people he had known that were capable of throwing a dumpster like that were all dead. Well, whoever it was, he thought, they got away with the control panel. Even though he had seen it in action, there were other things it could possibly do. Unfortunately, the only lead he had was the picture he had taken of it. While it wasn’t much, it was better than nothing.

There was only one person he knew who might be able to tell him more about the device based on just the picture. He needed to talk to his college professor, Dr. Curt Connors.

Prompt Post 2: Jaded’s Poem #2

Here is the second of my two poems for Jaded. This one is also dedicated to another bloggy friend, just to see if they’re paying attention. Hehehe.
Watching down from  above

Touching everything you see

Leaving all as different 

Blessing unreservedly 

Through the greater distance

Past barriers and strife

Never asking anything 

Enhancing every life 

Visible to everyone 

Though each sees differently 

Some view a sign of hope

For others, lunacy

One may shine much brighter 

But there’s no taking back

To me, you will ever be

A light among the black 

Prompt Post 1: Jaded’s Poem #1

In my last post, I asked for everyone to give me a writing prompt. The always awesome Jaded suggested that I write two poems: one serious, the other funny. Since I want to stretch these ideas out as much as I can, I will be posting them separately.

Here is the first one. I’ll leave it for the reader to figure out which poem this one is.

As I look deep into your eyes

All I feel is pain

I try to fight through

But the hurt remains


I cannot take it anymore

I can’t handle it

I never thought I’d say this

But I think we should quit


I know that you’re trying

You think you’re doing good

But loosen up your grip, babe

When you’re stroking on my wood

Prompt Me

My blog ideas in the past used to come to me fairly easily. It’s gotten harder to think of one lately. Back then I could always fall back on one of my post series.

There was VS., in which I would pit two fictional characters against each other in a fight, or some other contest. This worked a lot better when I had people at work that I could talk about those kinds of things with. I don’t have people like that anymore.

Then, there was Random Thoughts of the Day. Now, I know I did one of these posts recently, but they’ve become fewer and further between. That’s because I have most of these thoughts at work. It used to be that I would have time to jot them down as they came to me. Now, my workload has doubled and I can’t take the time to write them down as they come to me. I can only hope that I remember to remember them when I go to break, but I rarely do anymore.

I almost always have a serial story going at all times. The latest one, DICO,  is something that I’m going to be taking a break from. Well, on the blog, at least. He’s going to be part of a bigger story that I’m hoping to get turned into an actual comic book. Maybe, if this idea fails, I’ll come back to it on this here blog, but he’s on the shelf for now.

That leaves me stuck on what to write for you all. I figured I’d give you a chance to help with that one.

Is there anything that you’d like to see me write about? It can be anything you want. An opinion piece, a short piece of fiction, a bit of poetry, or anything else that you can come up with.

Is there a TV show, movie, or book series that you want to see me write a fan fiction for? Just name it. Granted, if I’ve never seen or read it before, I’m not going to do it. But if I can, I will.

Do you have an idea for a Versus matchup? Is there a random thought of your own that you want to hit me with?

Basically, if you want to see me write about it, leave it in the comment section below. If you’d prefer to submit yours out of the public eye, please use the form below.

The Bastard

“You’ve got to feel this,” she cried excitedly as she grabbed his hand and put it on her belly.

“Yeah, that’s great,” came his half-hearted reply.

Angry, she shoved his hand away from her. “Why do you have to be such a bastard,” she huffed. “This,” she pointed back to her belly, “is because of you.”

He sighed. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“It doesn’t matter. If you want me, you have to take this too.”

“I swear, if you weren’t so hot, I wouldn’t put up with this crap.”

“Crap? You dare call what’s in here ‘crap’?”

Just then, she lifted her leg and passed gas incredibly loudly. “That’s just great,” she yelled. “You helped create that and now it’s gone, thinking that its daddy didn’t care about it.”

“You know, it really creeps me out when you talk about your farts as if they’re children,” he sighed again. “And we’re never going back Taco Bell.”

Wasted Vote

I don’t normally talk about politics here. Its a very divisive topic that leads to circular debates and heated arguments. The only reason I do so now is because I’ve been seeing something lately that’s been kind of bothering me: Posts by people saying that voting for a third party candidate is wasting your vote. 

Now, I realize that a third party candidate has just about as much chance of winning this election than I do of winning the lottery, but voting for one is not a wasted vote. 

You know what a wasted vote is? Voting for someone you don’t believe in. Judging by the two major nominees, voting for someone you don’t believe in is something that will happen a lot this year.

The person you vote for should be the person that you think will do the best job. That’s not how people do it nowadays. There are people who will vote for Trump because he’s a Republican, or because he’s a celebrity. There are people out there that will vote for Clinton because she’s a Democrat, or because she’s a woman. 

None of those are a good reason to vote for someone. 

A person’s celebrity  status, gender, or political party does not guarantee that they are going to make a good president. In fact, nothing will guarantee that. All you can do us vote for the person that you think will be the better president. 

 If you honestly believe that Trump or Hillary are the best candidate, then, by all means, vote for them. If you don’t, then use your vote for somebody else. Vote for Gary Johnson if you want to. Vote for a different third party candidate if you find one you like. Hell, vote for Peyton Manning if you feel he’s the best person for the job.

Just don’t let someone tell you that your vote is wasted if you don’t vote for one of the big two. 

Your vote is your voice. Let them hear you.

Rtotd: 9/28/16

It’s been a long time since I bombarded you all with the randomness that bounces around in my head, so prepare yourselves to question, “WTF is wrong with this guy?”

  • If taking a dump is a bowel movement, does that mean taking a piss is a bladder movement?
  • Would a 1985 video camera really hook up to a 1955 TV? And even if it could, would Marty really know how to do it? Doc Brown couldn’t have done it. He had never seen that technology before.
  • James Earl Jones did a guest spot on House where he played a cruel African dictator. One of the doctors end up killing him by purposefully misdiagnosing him. I wonder if the actor who played that doctor has ever, after being given shit by someone, looked at their accoster and said, “Don’t mess with me. I killed Darth Vader, bitch.”
  • People need to learn how to write legibly. Half the forms that accompany the radios are written so badly that I have to guess on what it says, which is problematic because the system won’t accept the information if it’s inaccurate.
  • My feet don’t like it when I work overtime anymore. They’re killing me right now and I’ve been home for hours now. Ugh.
  • If you haven’t bought my book yet, you should. All proceeds go to the “Matt and I don’t feel like working overtime anymore” Fund. It’s a cause that’s near and dear to our hearts. To help out, go here.
  • How did they get the heads of the old presidents into the jars in Futurama? They guy they said invented them is living now, so anyone who died before this guy was born wouldn’t be able to have their head preserved. If, for the sake of argument, they went back in time to get the heads, wouldn’t that change history? I remember seeing Lincoln’s head in a jar in one episode. That means, to get it, they would’ve had to stop John Wilkes Booth from shooting him. It doesn’t make sense.
  • When someone asks someone else to pick a number between 1-100, is there anyone on the planet that doesn’t pick 69?
  • I don’t actually have a thought to put here. I’m just writing this to see if anyone is even paying attention at this point. I doubt it. I’m barely paying attention and I’m the one writing this crap.

I suppose I’ve put you through enough for one day. Have a good one everybody!