Last Son of Krypton Notes

I am Clark Kent. A farm boy raised to do good, to help my neighbors, to be active in my community. I believe that people are righteous and the family is the one great strength that we can all rely on. I became a reporter to tell the stories of these people I met, the ones I came to know and love, to show the world their power when they stand together.

I am Superman. I hope inspire mankind to great heights. I am an ideal, a beacon to the masses, a light to guard and watch over them. I am a superhero who flies over their heads and smashes badguys with laser pistols and death rays. I hit supervillains, snag bank robbers, and prevent alien invasions. Is this all there is to being good?

I am Kal-El of Krypton. The last son of a scientist, a man of cold logic, yet emotionally driven to save me when the collapse of a great culture came upon his own people. I know my father's mind for it is my own. I see all that is around me, process all that humanity does to itself, and try to figure out how best to save them from themselves.

***

Superman sits on an asteroid floating in space. To the left of his head is an image of a young hopeful farmboy Clark Kent, glasses and flannel, smiling and genuine, floating above the Earth. The the right is the cold calculating look of Kal-El, a young Kryptonian in traditional Kryptonian garb, floating beneath the Sun.

Superman looks angsty and concerned, not sure of himself, kind of slouched on the rock in space, his chin resting in his palms.

Last Son of Krypton Notes

I am Clark Kent. A farm boy raised to do good, to help my neighbors, to be active in my community. I believe that people are righteous and the family is the one great strength that we can all rely on. I became a reporter to tell the stories of these people I met, the ones I came to know and love, to show the world their power when they stand together.

I am Superman. I hope inspire mankind to great heights. I am an ideal, a beacon to the masses, a light to guard and watch over them. I am a superhero who flies over their heads and smashes badguys with laser pistols and death rays. I hit supervillains, snag bank robbers, and prevent alien invasions. Is this all there is to being good?

I am Kal-El of Krypton. The last son of a scientist, a man of cold logic, yet emotionally driven to save me when the collapse of a great culture came upon his own people. I know my father's mind for it is my own. I see all that is around me, process all that humanity does to itself, and try to figure out how best to save them from themselves.

***

Superman sits on an asteroid floating in space. To the left of his head is an image of a young hopeful farmboy Clark Kent, glasses and flannel, smiling and genuine, floating above the Earth. The the right is the cold calculating look of Kal-El, a young Kryptonian in traditional Kryptonian garb, floating beneath the Sun.

Superman looks angsty and concerned, not sure of himself, kind of slouched on the rock in space, his chin resting in his palms.

Man of Tomorrow Notes

Lex Luthor scares me. They sent me to cover his press conference where he declared that he'd rid the planet of Evil. And his master plan starts with his villain rehabilitation program.

Studying psychology, sociology, and mythology like he did all other sciences, Lex devised a plan to help any powered thug become a useful citizen again by providing them whatever personal satisfaction they needed, be it fortune, glory, or carnage (someone needs to demolish buildings, may as well be someone invulnerable).

Superman later told me how he stopped Lex's diabolically benevolent plan from coming to light. By monitoring all information, and then processing the data allowed him to predict the fluctuations in sociological changes.

Basically he read the all of the internet every day and then knew what'd happen tomorrow, thereby seeing the sinister outcome of Lex's master plan. No villains meant no threats, no threats led to heroes turning on heroes, or joining the LexCorp workforce. Either way, he'd win.

To think, Superman beat Lex from his computer. I wonder what kind of bandwith Supes has got up in that Fortress of Solitude.

***

Superman sits in his computer chair, his back is to us, and we can just see his cape draped over the chair, and the back of his head. He reaches over to pick up a S shield mug of steaming hot cocoa. He's sitting in front of a large Kryptonian computer console, on the monitor is Lex Luthor waving and smiling. The tagline below him is VILLAINS REFORM!

Man of Steel Notes

If I was going to go from mere photo editor to reporter at the Daily Bugle I'd need a story. But it's hard to scoop veteran reporters like Kent & Lane. So I'd have to look at things from my own perspective, from my neighborhood, from my life.

So I wrote a story, my first byline, about this old guy on my block. Turns out his classic, limited edition, prime condition hotrod was used by Superman as a way to smash Metallo into the river. He showed the car off every weekend, down under the Byrne Bridge, spitshine polished that car every day.

Superman came by to thank me for writing such a human piece, said my voice was what Metropolis needed, especially in today's superhuman world. On my way home from work I spotted the old guy with a rusted, battered frame of his old car sitting in his driveway.

And there was Superman, sleeves rolled up, and getting schooled in car mechanics as he helped him restore that hunk of steel.

***

Superman's looking kind of unsure as he peers with his X-Ray vision into the engine, under the large hood of a classic hotrod that's beaten up, rusted, smoking and dripping water from the bottom. He's got his sleeves rolled up, one foot on the bumper, grease on his hands, scratching his chin. The old guy is an aged rockabilly, clean cut, but slicked back sparse hair. He looks like he's explaining something as he gestures in some mechanical way.

Action Comics Notes

Jimmy Olsen makes bank. He's even got his own coffeetable photo book coming out. Check out the front cover shot. Superman hefting a car over his head, ready to smash it down on some supervillain, and Olsen gets that shot...looks like he's gonna smash us with that car.

Jimmy Olsen always gets the shot. I'd see him running down Swan Street, leaping craters, dodging blasts, and clicking that shutter like a samurai. All in a ridiculous bowtie. He still shoots old school, even has his own darkroom studio down in Suicide Slum. Keeps him close to the Action.

***

An off-angle, badly framed shot of Jimmy Olsen leaping over debris from energy blasts of all kind raining down in the street. He has his camera in hand as he lines up his shot. Next to that is a copy of his Superman cover of his Coffeetable Book which looks like a first person perspective of the cover of Action Comics #1 where Superman is lifting a car above his head. The book has the word ACTION in big yellow letters, green background, with Jimmy Olsen written under it.

recording write club 3

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recording write club 3

recording write club 3

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recording write club 3

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Kid Eternity! Prose

I don't know why I cried out that word in my final moment. As the debris came crashing down all around me, the gigantic space cruiser raining upon the streets of Metropolis, I felt the pressure of the air rooting me to where I stood. The energy blast roared above me, ripping through the atmosphere, looming like a ball of incinerating death, there was nowhere to run.

"ETERNITY!"

Just a photo editor for the Daily Bugle, got the gig with my pal Jimmy Olsen's recommendation, first day on the job, fresh to the big city, now I was dead. Blown to bits, a casulity in a larger than life battle for intergalactic dominance. I watched the Justice League tear through the skies as my entire being was eradicated by a pulse blast from a Dominion BattleCruiser.

Or at least that's what Deadman called it. Now he's my only friend, floating intangibily alongside me, schooling me in the basics of superherodom as he escorts me to the other side. Boston Brand is his real name, and I go to tell him mine, only I can't seem to remember it.

"Kid.", I say unsure of myself, recalling a nickname that sits alone in my memory.

When I don't cross over to the afterlife he brings me to a floating diamond shaped stone on the flipside of reality. The lightning bolt t-shirt on my chest reminded him of another hero, a family of heroes. He called it the Rock of Eternity, guarded by a bearded hero called Shazam, and the Marvel Family.

***

He slicked back his hair, bound it in a ponytail, and snapped his leather jacket tight to his glowing white chest. He pushed his rounded sunglasses, his goggles from the raw reality around him, up on the bridge of his nose as he grinned. The chaotic swirling tear in reality threatened to swallow the enitre scene.

Cliff Steele could feel the nuts and bolts of his robotic body rattle. Swamp Thing's raw vegetable body began to fall apart, slopping and dripping across the laboratory floor. Shade the Changing Man could hear the cries of infinite madness just beyond the veil of this vertigo inducing reality.

"Later gents."

Kid Infinity, as he calls himself now that he's been supercharged by the Chaos Engines of the Underworld, leaps into the abyss as the heroes reach out towards him in defiance and fear.

He's gone. Infinity has left the building. The universe begins to collapse.

Spider-Monkey Breakdowns

Page 1
Peter Primate walking among apes & gorillas. Daily Bugle (Banana?) covers proclaim Spider-Monkey as menace. Peter swings up to monkey bar lane for smaller primates, delivery monkeys and such.

Page 2
Green Gibbon flies off uptown. Peter debates on missing date with Monkey Jane to give chase. Responsibility and Uncle Ben flash. Costume switch behind billboard for Monkey themed Broadway show.

Page 3
Spider-Monkey swings following a trail of smoke into the Museum of Natural History. Maybe a hint of evolution in the Marvel Monkeyverse. Artwork and sculptures of Apes & Gorilla warriors. Monkeys not given a fair deal. Spider-Monkey spies into one of the main rooms. Green Gibbon is pilfering treasures looking for something.

Page 4
Spider-Monkey swings in and Green Gibbon and him fight. Innocents scatter as they tear around the room. In focus is a mummified monkey's paw. It begins to glow as the fight continues and they slowly come closer to it.

Page 5
Spider-Monkey is blasted back into the case grabbing the paw. It flashes with energy. The Baboonder's paw or just vague cosmic forces swell up around Spider-Monkey just as he wishes he never was Spider-Monkey and that he could just be normal. Spider-Monkey is undone as his costume unravels and he dissipates.

Page 6
Peter Primate stands in the same museum room except now surrounded as if on a class trip. Flash Thompson, Liz Allen, Mary Jane, chaperoned by Uncle Ben & Aunt May. Green Gibbon has the paw and is raising it triumphantly.

Page 7
All of Spider-Monkeys villains in animal forms appear out of nowhere and attack. Doctor Octupus, tentacles streaming from his face, Kraven the Hunter, Lionheaded savage, Chameleon, shifting creeping lizard, The Lizard, snarling fanged beast, Electro, eel-like and alien, and Venom, man-spider with venomous dripping fangs and multi-spindly legs.

The supporting cast all run screaming, Peter Primate looks on helpless.

Page 8
Peter realizes that he is holding the paw in his grip, that he still holds the paw after making his wish. He makes a second wish as he begins transforming reality around him, half becoming Spider-Monkey, half Peter Primate. A nod to the half Spidey face.

Page 9
Spider-Monkey, paw in his tail, leaps with a punch towards Green Gibbon, who is transforming from all-powerful Gibbon God, to normal Green Gibbon with a punch.

Page 10
Spider-Monkey stands defiant over Green Gibbon. All webbed up and bound to his glider. All around them it's a mess in the exhibit. Spider-Monkey ponders his third wish. Clean up the museum? Have the populace love and adore him? A million bananas?

He wishes it returned to whereever it came from. Reattaches to the arm of one of three Watchers sitting backs together floating in space paws over their eyes, ears, and mouth.

Inspiring Euphoria

I see the pain in their eyes. Beneath their smiles I can hear the sadness in their voice. It's what those around me don't say that tells me everything I need to know.

I want to help them, but they don't listen. So many are buried beneath their own constricted ideas of themselves that they can't even dream of a new way of being.

I write and write, and have used my words to reinvent myself as a happy person, a whole person, working out my issues through sentences and paragraphs of pain. This has given me an insight I wish to use to help those around me.

Utilizing my skill at crafting ideas, concepts, thoughts through words, the poetry of prose, and marrying it with my passion, my eagerness to help humanity rise up from beneath the muck and mire of the every day that keeps us down.

All I ask is that you give me a chance to demonstrate my writing ability and give me a purpose and direction, a forum for me to do all I can to extend my hand to any and all, helping them to help themselves, and in return to help those that they can reach out to.

Thank you for your time. I sincerely hope this helps make a difference in the world when it needs it the most.

Kurt Christenson
516-343-1798