Doll Man versus a Box of Candy, Part 1

Doll Man and his sidekick, Death, hide themselves in a box of candy!  This story has no proper title so we get to pick our own: I'm leaning toward "Bon Bon Voyage" or "A Box of Bomb Bombs!"

Maybe it's not Death.  Maybe (the) Doll Man is just throwing one of his 'flesh-optional' parties.

Doll Man's gal pal received an unsolicited parcel: a box of CHOCOLATES!

"It could be a BOMB! Let's stand way back here against the wall, just in case!"

If the mailman made a mistake, as Martha asserts below, the package must have the correct address on it, and it would be a simple matter to take it there or hand it back to the mailman the next day.  But Golden Age stories are not premised on simple matters.  And so...

Being the crazy person who drank an untested shrink formula that strains the brain, Doll Man starts EATING the chocolate, even though the chocolates belong to someone else AND could actually be BOMBS. You'd think he'd know that, living in a comic book as he does.

Actually, Martha, if you were he, you obviously WOULD eat it.

Of course, opening (and eating) a package not addressed to you is a federal crime, but that's not the kind of thing that stops a man who regularly finds any excuse to shrink to six inches and run around in his underwear and pick on people 1728 times his size.

Naturally because this is Doll Man,  the very piece of candy he so daintily begins to consume in multiple bites turns out to contain a sabotage plot.

"I'd better investigate!" 
Doll Man is kind of guy who says, "But I digress...!"

So, I ask you to think about how you safely and undetectably insert a sabotage plot inside a bon bon, which, unlike a fortune cookie, is full of messy goo.  Don't tell me; just think about it. THEN think about WHY you would do that; no pressure, since there is no answer.

As Gal Pal Martha steadies herself against the idiosyncratic perspective of the room, Doll Man ponders an uncharacteristically sane approach, from which she quickly dissuades him through the persuasive power of transquartomuralism.

One of the challenges of Doll Man stories is that you can never tell whether Doll Man is changing size or its just the idiosyncratic perspective.

Like any Golden Age hero, Doll Man is eager to horribly complicate the situation with a simple plan.

"You can start by helping me escape this Ames Room, which is causing the illusion that I'm 8-10 foot tall."

Doll Man's simple plan has Martha return the apparently unopened box of candy to the world's loneliest Post Office, which is the normal decent thing they should have done in the first place.

In Doll Man's city, forced perspective = foreshadowing.

I'm not really sure how the "Post Office" works, because, like you, I live in the future, where we use teleportation and 3D printing instead.  I guess the package has no return address, but the P.O. keeps records that say "Mr. Roberts, 555-1323; box of edible sabotage plans, contact if undeliverable"?  Sure, Golden Age, why not?

Oh, wait, did Mr. Roberts send the package or was he its intended recipient?  "I better investigate!"  

Here's where this simple plan gets complicated.  Mr. Roberts brings the candy back to a Mr. Gruber's office, which is, apparently, in the Ukiyo-e building for exporters of Japanese perspective, where everyone within must cling to furniture to keep from being hurtled off-panel by sudden shifts in viewpoint.

Has the yellow-suited man been poisoned with Doll Man's shrinking pill? Why is he standing on a banker's box?  Is the blue-suited man actually that much taller or is he a victim of forced perspective?  Why does he order everyone else to take a piece of candy but then winds up getting the sabotage piece himself? All the really good mysteries in Doll Man stories remain unexplored.

So,  it seems the box of candy isn't a means for conveying crime plans, so much as a means for deciding who does the crime. Suddenly the Octo-Alphabet Board and the Planetary Chance Machine don't seem so stupid, do they?

Yeah; no, they still do.

Next time you play a boardgame, don't roll to see who goes first. Wouldn't it be more exciting to pull out a Whitman's Sampler and say, "The first-player token is in ONE of these chocolates; start eating."

But I digress! As the yellow-suited man continues to shrink and the brown-suited man eats all the rest of the chocolate (because crime is a high-calorie undertaking), they discover the amazing figure of The Doll Man hidden in the box of candy (which I have to assume had some airholes punched in it).

I think the Square-Cube Law means that Doll Man only weights about 2 ounces so Adolf has a very finely calibrated sense of what chocolate boxes weigh.

And that's when the Doll Man–style whupping begins.

For a guy who stands on banker's boxes in order to come up to the shoulders of his colleagues, yellow-suit has a lot of stones to sass a guy who's lifting a table the relative size of a White Castle.

So, after they are all unconscious, Doll Man does the sensible thing and, having incapacitated the would-be saboteurs, calls the authorities.

LOL, you didn't fall for that, did you? This is the Golden Age; this is The Doll Man, whose brain is chemically unbalanced! Naturally, while he has the opportunity, he does the least sane thing and crawls INSIDE THEIR BOMB.

"Hm. A tiny man with super-strength jumped out of a box of chocolates and pummeled us senseless. But now he's gone so, I'm going to pretend there was an earthquake and just proceed as planned!"

After all, what could possibly go wrong...?

Octopus Week #6: Ollie, Ollie, Octo's Free

When we last left Al "Slippery" Michaels, now known as The Octopus, his entire gang had just been captured by Green Arrow while trying to rob a game show.

See, Al?  Shoulda listened to Octavus; shoulda stuck with the Octo-Alphabet Board method.  This is what comes of thinking for yourself.  This, and the costume.

"hey michaels me and the Arkham crew saw your boys on channel 8 last night; thanks for the great show, LMFAO; love, Dent #theoctopussucks"

Imagine for a minute that you're trying to make a name for yourself as a criminal, in fact, you're trying to jump the 'big divide" between be-suited gangster and costumed villain.  Now imagine how embarrassing it would be to have your entire gang caught in one fell swoop.

By Green Arrow.

ON A TELEVISION GAME SHOW.

Of course, when one habitually wears a tentacle hat one tends to become endured to embarrassment.

So, what's the next logical step for Michaels, then?   Is it....?

(A) Return to regular gangster hood, his pretensions toward villainy broken

(B) Eschew crime entirely and apply for work at DARPA

(C) Give in to his smoldering sexual attraction to Octavus that he's been sublimating into his criminal cos-play as "the Octopus" and move in together somewhere in New Venice;

(D) SWEAR TO DESTROY GREEN ARROW AND THAT KID WHO HANGS AROUND HIM SINGLE-TENTACLED IF I HAVE TO!

But they did get a new apartment together, I note. Now they can do whatever they want, without worrying that one of the boys is going to walk in on them.

I began this series with so little respect for Michaels.  But at this point he shows himself a true VILLAIN by not even considering the first three, comparatively sane choices, and embracing the fourth, villainous one with every ounce of strength in his tentacles.  

Clearly, the television gameshow debacle has only pushed him to up his game and he not only swears vengeance, he PUBLISHES it in the newspapers.  Because that shit's on-line; it's searchable.  Now, that's commitment.

Well, jacta alea octonaria est; even layabout Ollie can't help but see the Octopus's threat in the Star City papers. 

Newpapers? Who knew that many people in Star City could actually read?

Ollie and the little red-headed boy spend the next couple day obsessing about their favorite subjects -- themselves -- instead of trying to find the guy with the tentacle hat who lives with an octopus in his living room.  Finally their ruminations are interrupted by the flaming shaft of the jism-signal.

I'm guess the commissioner's GA fleshlight was broken.

One of Green Arrow's best qualities is his willingness to rush headlong toward self-destruction. Go get 'em, Ollie.

 So, I can't decide: which is weirder, wearing the Octopus outfit in front of other people or wearing it when you are all alone, in the dark, by the side of a rural route?

So, Green Arrow is dead. So is that brat.  The Octopus wins after all.

 I wept when I realized how much pain would have been spared the world had this panel been true.

Actually, Green Arrow uses a smoke bomb to trick the Octopus into thinking he blew up the Arrowcar.  Because, well, because heroes are real jackasses who love to deceive and humiliate you before they capture you.  And it takes substantial planning and effort to humiliate someone who runs around in a tentacle hat.

I don't have the heart to comment on the whole "Arrowcar has eight letters" thing; you'll have to snark that one yourself.

Wait, not 'the Octogyro'?  Sorry, Michaels; you just failed Supervillainy 201. 

"Thank the octo-gods I spent all that gold bullion from the salvage ship on this Octocopter!  Otherwise, I would have had to have pulled out an automatic and shot Green Arrow and Little Boy Red!"

No, really; it's totally possible to hang on to the wheels of helicopter in full flight for a couple of miles like that.  In short sleeves.  Right, Josh?

I'm sure Ollie will make short work of the Octopus when they arrive at his hideout.  After all, he's got no gang to back him up any more, and no one back at the hideout to help him, right?

Octopus Week #3: What's the Difference?

When we last left Al Michaels, now known (at least to himself) as The Octopus, leader of the not-particularly-dreaded Octopus Gang, he had let his pet Octavus choose their next crime by means of the famous Octo-Alphabet Board.

"What's the difference?" is pretty much the motto of the Green Arrow Creative Team.

An eight-themed crime?  At an ice rink?  

Why, I can't figure that at all!  I simply can't see any possible connection that would link ice skating with eights.  Can you, kids at home?

In case you didn't know it, ice shows are just oozing with Fabulous Gems (tm).

The list of Star City celebrities includes: 

that Couple Batman Rescued from a Mugger When They Visited Gotham City, 

the Sailor Who Saw Aquaman Once from a Distance, 

Kay Daye's second cousin, and 

that trampy gal who once slept with Basil Karlo.

A figure... EIGHT?! Oh my god, everyone, look out...!

 

Okay, now I've seen everything.  Apparently, the Octopus's "preparations" involved inventing, in one afternoon, remote-controlled micro-heat coils, complete with power source, strong enough to melt ice that's thick enough to have an ice show on, and then somehow building them into the skates of the one skater you have somehow identified as the one who's going to skate a figure eight that night.  

Michaels! Ditch the half-assed thematic criminal career and send an application in to DARPA.  Do you have any idea how much damage we could do with that kind of techno-tactical talent during our next war with Norway?  I bet they'd even let you wear your costume; that's what warrant commissions  are for.

Not pictured below: hilarious falling through the floor by the skater.  "I thought you said you were going to scare the Ice Princess?" "She looked pretty scared to me!"

"Abruptly"?  How 'abruptly' can eight guys in suits and hats craw out of a hole in the ice?

Did you know that the ice at an ice show isn't on a floor?  It's a big sheet of ice hanging over, say, a tunnel or crawlspace or something?  You learn something new every day in Star City, folks.

Another thing I learned: the Celebrities of Star City are total morons who think armed men with hats are part of the show.  What do you think this is, "The Untouchables On Ice"?

"These Halloween costume Bizarro-hands will hide our fingerprints!"

"Haw! Yer a genius, boss!'

Unfortunately for the Octopus Gang, among the moronic Star City celebrities in attendance is Oliver Queen and His Pet Kid from the Reservation... AND their boomerang arrow.

I can just picture the GA Creative Team breakfast meeting in 1953 where they came up with this, all wearing their Mad Men outfits, holding cigarettes and martinis.

• "So then GA shows up, but the gang has a head start and gets away."
• "But then GA will look ineffectual!"
• "Can't have a guy who fights crime with a bow and arrow look ineffectual."
• "Amen."
• "Alright, alright, but he can't capture them or the story's over six pages two soon."
• "Not if you ask me." 
• "We'd didn't, Murray, so shut up."
• "Well, they get away but GA gets the loot."
• "Yeah? How?"
• " .... .... ...."
• "*snap* Got it! Boomerang arrow! I'm a genius!"
• "Dumbest damned--"
• "Jesus Chri--"
• "I can't draw that!'
• "No, it's okay, we'll cover it with a word balloon."
• "Look, boys, I got a hot number waiting for a nooner at the Hilton..."
• "Boomerang arrow it is.  Breaktime!"

I'm just being silly, of course.  We all know that, even if "GA Creative Team" weren't an oxymoron, they certainly never had meetings.

"Damn! Can't stop to shoot Green Arrow and get the jewels back; 

gotta have these masks back to the Beagle Boys by ten o'clock!"

What's this, you ask, my criminal friend?  It's a total defiance of physics, let alone the very concept of "arrow", as in "straight as an arrow",  "the arrow of time", "I shot an arrow into the air", etc.  No wonder the crooks are surprised.

 

"I SAID I CAN'T DRAW THAT!"

"They''ll never catch us in this 30-year-old Studebaker!  They're on foot!"

"Haw! Yer a genius, boss!"

"Gosh, GA! If only we had some way of piercing their tires from a distance!"

"Yes, Roy, it's a pity.  We'll work on coming up with something back at the Arrowcave, right after we're done perfecting the hoola-hoop arrow."

Well, they flopped in this round's robbery, but at least they put on a good show.  Hey, audience,  should the gang give up this no-profit life of crime and become improvisational comedians or performance artists? Or should they ...

RETURN TO THE OCTO-ALPHABET BOARD!

Octopus Week #2: Octo-Improv Comedy

Al 'Slippery' Michaels' decision to heed the omens and re-style himself as the 8-themed villain 'The Octopus' is an ingenious move, one that will surely inspire excitement and loyalty in his men.

 You can tell criminals don't go to a lot of costume balls.  I mean, who wears purple hose, a tee shirt with an octopus transfer, and a tentacle hat to a costume ball?  Lady Gaga? 

Or perhaps just derision.  Note the guy on the right of panel, who's about two seconds away from bolting toward the door: "Jeez, If I wanted to deal with this kind of crap I woulda stayed in Gotham!"

Okay, so the boss wants to dress funny around the house.  No harm in that, particularly when we fight a guy dressed like Robin Hood.  I mean, it's not like he's really going to overboard with the--

 

HOLY CRAP THERE'S A GIANT OCTOPUS IN OUR LIVING ROOM AAAAAAAAAAAAHH!

I've made fun of how obviously low-rent Al Michaels is, but I must confess I'm starting to be impressed.  Just a few days out of prison and he's already:

(1) experienced a transformative enlightenment into thematic supervillainy;

(2) had his mom sew up one of the most, um, memorable costumes in comic book history;

(3)  installed an enormous salt water aquarium sunken into his living room floor (which is NOT easy, let me tell you); and

(4) purchased a giant octopus.

Do you know what it costs to buy a live giant octopus?  Do you know how hard they are to find and have delivered?  I spent the better part of yesterday trying to figure that out, and neither Google Shopping or eBay could help.  And Michaels is pre-internet.  Really, it's quite impressive.

Well, so, the boss has gone a little... eccentric.  I mean, it's not like he's really going to let that influence his criminal decision making.

Um. Um. Um.  What?

Okay, yeah, that's what I thought you said.  

Michaels, I mean, "The Octopus" has gone fully around the bend and is running his gang by celaphodic divination like some sort of criminal improv show. "Hello, everyone! I'm your host Al 'Slippery' Michaels, and welcome to WHO'S CRIME IS IT, ANYWAY? ! Let's take a look at the octo-alphabet board, shall we...?"  Cluemaster must be SO jealous right now.

 So, how does this M.O. work in practice?

"Hey, boss; Harvey Dent just tweeted about you.  

He says 'michaels wtf you sicko get therapy now not l8ter ha ha #arkhamwannabes'.  

You want I should write him back...?"

What's the difference, indeed?  I think the most charming thing about the Octo-Alphabet Board Game is its arbitrary nature. Unless Michaels really is the greatest criminal improv genius of all time, you know damned well he's already got the Ice Show gig pre-planned.  Like a good gameshow host ready to segue from any contestant small talk into the next round, Michaels has probably already figured out a way to interpret any letter chosen as representing the crime he wants to pull.  "X? Of course! There is an... Xcellent ice show at the arena tonight! Thank you, Octavus!"  "Boss, there's actually a xylophone concert tonight at the--" "I said THANK YOU OCTAVUS; now let's go!"

Try not to think about the fact that the naive assumption underlying the Octo-Alphabet Board Game is that Octavus will ONLY TOUCH ONE LETTER.  Octavus has eight tentacles; that is, after all, the very point of having him.  I'd love to see Michaels' face if Octavus went full-bore at the board with each tentacle.  "AFGHRSTU?  Uh... there's a ... an Afghan restaurant on U Street that---oh, fudge it, we're robbing the damned Ice Show, okay?!?!"