“Sure,” Buckington said, reaching into his red Superman boot, and grabbing a wad of cash.

Before he could straighten up, a person in full ninja dress was pointing a gun in Buckington’s face, and demanding the money. “Gimme the fuckin’ money,” a male voice said. “I’ll shoot you and your girlfriend if you don’t. Hurry up!”

“All right,” Buckington said. “Be cool. Everything’s fine except one thing. How can you rob Superman? I can see robbing the Green Lantern, or Wonder Woman, but Superman? That’s just not fuckin’ right.”

“Just give him the money,” Rhonda said, shaking nervously.

“Yeah, dipshit,” the ninja said. “Listen to your wonder woman and give me the money or I’ll shoot you and take her with me.”

“Okay,” Buckington said, an arms length away from the bad guy. He took a small step back with his right foot, and settled. “I was gonna give you the money, until you threatened my new girlfriend, and nobody does that. Now all you get is this.”

Buckington’s left hand shot out quicker than a cobra strike, grabbing the gun and bending the guy over slightly. His right hand was at the end of an uppercut that hit the ninja square on the jaw, knocking him over backwards, unconscious before his ass hit the pavement.

“Threaten my girlfriend and that’s what you get.”

“Holy shit, Daddy,” Sliparee Ann said, excitedly. “That was fuckin’ awesome… you bad ass, you.”

“Thanks Honey,” Buckington said, bending down to unmask the bad guy.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Doobie said, looking at the mans face. “That guy is Clump Dumply, the grandson of Chum.”

“The hell you say?” Buckington bellowed.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I asked.

“This is the grandson of the asshole that got my Granddaddy thrown in jail,” Buckington said. “This speed freak lives in the trailer park in Crotch. Dumb bastard.”

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