Really, there are only so many times you can bring a pile of seaweed-laden gold-dust into the surveyor's office with arousing the suspicions of the authorities. "Mr. Hoover," the field officer would report, "we've got another 'sea-gold' incident, this time at Grover's Mill."
And a detective's salary? Puh-lease; this is J'onn J'onnz we're talking about. Do you know what long distance calls to Mars cost, even to your Fave Five? Mars needs money, folks, not women.
Fortunately, JJ arrived during the repressive 1950s. Being a manhunter, JJ had a ready and obvious source of income:
Blackmailing closeted gays for money.
Oh, and sexual favors. Disturbing things, that involved toys, and props, and fishing tackle.
And the less said about the "dropped soap in the prison" incident, the better...
Of course, this was just a phase J'onn was going through, which ended when he discovered sweet sweet octopus love.
6 comments:
"blackmailing closeted gays"
Oh man, that panel is found poetry.
Scip, I find your fantasies about Big Mike and his bar of soap to be quite flattering.
Hey, the name "Big Mike" must come from somewhere!
My Showcase Martian Manhunter can't arrive fast enough. Pure gold.
These things just write themselves -- and yet, I'm so glad you're the one doing the writing.
This won't succeed as a matter of fact, that's exactly what I consider.
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