Bullcrap From Krypton

"Gosh, Kara, this sure is a boring Sunday afternoon, here at the Fortress of Solitude."

"I know what we could do for fun, Superman. You can tell me another one of your bullcrap stories about life on the planet Krypton, and I can pretend to believe you!"

"Um, Kara, aren't you a little old to be sitting on my lap?"

"C'mon, Supe! We're cousins. What could possibly happen?"

"Well, ok, maybe just this once. Did I ever tell you about my uncle Marv?"

"Marv. You had an uncle on Krypton named Marv."

"Uncle Marv was from my father's side of the family. The Els."

"Hmm. Marv-El. I think I can see where this is going ..."

"Don't interrupt, Kara. It's rude and unladylike. Now then. The Els were a family with a long history of military service. Dad was a bit of a black rondor for choosing to become a scientist, but as his rockets had military applications, that wasn't so bad. Marv, however, was another story. As a young man, he had a somewhat more artistic bent. He had a dream. He wanted to be a filksinger."

"You mean a folksinger."

"No, a filksinger. One who sings filk. His ambition was to become famous by singing popular songs of the day, with new lyrics of a humorous or science-fictional nature."

"He was ahead of his time."

"Too far ahead. In those days, on Krypton, there was no market for such music. So after flunking out of the Kryptonian Music Academy and unable to make it as a space-busker, the family finally got their way and enlisted him in the Kryptonian Defence Force. They purchased a commission for him, and Uncle Marv entered the military after all, at the rank of captain."

"So he became Captain Marv-El. Did he have a uniform with a bolt of lightning on his chest?"

"Um, no, you must be thinking of someone else. Uncle Marv's uniform had a starburst design on the chest, and 2 wristbands to indicate rank. Poor Uncle Marv was never really happy. He never gave up his musical ambitions. It was like ... he was 2 different people, sharing the same body. The soldier and the singer."

"That must have been confusing!"

"It sure was. Finally, Uncle Marv snapped. He just couldn't take it any more. He decided to end it all. So he had sex and race change operations, and then exposed himself to cosmic rays."

"Gee, why did he do all that, Supe?"

"Well, he wanted to commit suicide, you see. But he was too cowardly to kill himself. First he had to turn himself into somebody else, and then kill her. And that's how Uncle Marv came to be a black woman. Ah, but the best laid plans ... When he exposed herself to the cosmic rays, they didn't kill him! Instead, they gave her super-powers."

"Darn the luck!"

"So at that point there was nothing else for Marv to do but put on a mask and fight crime. I mean, that's what one does in these situations, isn't it?"

"Was he, I mean she, any good at it? Fighting crime, I mean."

"Unfortunately no. Krypton was racist, sexist and anti-gay. Marv, or Marvina as he was then known, couldn't get any high-profile cases. It seemed that nobody wanted to be rescued by a black lady transsexual mutant. Business dried up, and Marvina ended her days as a wino, sharing bottles with some rubby named Thanos, and muttering to passers-by that she was 'cosmically aware.'"

"How sad."

"Yes, it was tragic. And to this day, whenever I find myself in a beatnik cafe in Metropolis, listening to a black woman with military tattoos, strumming a guitar and singing filk, I think about ol' Uncle Marv, and I shed a wistful tear."

"Gosh, Superman, that was a wonderful story. Did it really all happen just like you said?"

"May the gods of Krypton strike me down where I stand if every word wasn't true."

"Um, Superman, we're sitting down."

"So we are. What's your point?"

T H E  E N D