The Despero Intersection

"Do you think that Scott...? You know..."  "Naah. He's too nice to fool around, and  Barda really has him by the short hairs," Booster said. "He must've touched Fire's butt by accident and she freaked out. That boy needs to be properly taught the exact art of accidental butt touching."  "Yeah, Obi-Wan."  "Anyway, I think Scott has enough woman at  home to keep him busy. Lucky guy must need every bit of energy available to keep that girl happy."  "I dunno. Barda's a bit hard for my taste,"  Beetle said. "Great tits and all, sure, but I'd be nervous with a woman who could easily beat me up every night."  "Didn't you use to pay for that sort of thing?"    **************************************    The small, shingle-roofed, two-bedroom house was unremarkable in every way. Even the obsessively clean and ordered lawn hinted at nothing more than the typical concerns of suburbia. There was nothing to indicate that the place was home to illegal aliens, and not precisely south-of-the-border ones.  Scott Free's figure materialized inside the  clear Plexiglas tube of the JLI transporter. The high-tech teleportation device was located inside the kitchen's pantry, since it interfered with TV reception if placed in the living room.  He looked around with clear puzzlement before  he realized that he was in a small storage area, and stepped out into the kitchen, wondering why did everyone insist in his being inside similar small, closed quarters.  He was dressed in borrowed white loafers, faded  jeans, a Grateful Dead T-shirt, and a pink windbreaker. Blue Beetle had insisted that such a combination would reflect highly on his discriminating taste.  "Honey. I'm home," he said, as the records of  Earth customs indicated he should.  The dark-haired woman who entered the kitchen,  easily a head taller than him, reacted with obvious surprise. Maybe the blue velvet cowboy hat had been too much, he considered.  "Scott, dear! I thought you were out of town!  You said you would call!"  "Long distance calls are not covered."  The woman rushed and hugged him with barely  less strength than an hydraulic metal compactor, her thick, heavily muscled arms easily lifting him in her embrace, crushing him against her large breasts.  "Did anything go wrong at the tour? I told you  to fire that incompetent agent."  "Everything is under control."  "Why are you dressed like that? You lost a bet  with those two jerks again?"  "You do not like it?"  Barda knew that in Apokolips, someone wearing  that would be shot on sight and then thrown to the Hounds. Or the other way around. Her eyes narrowed, the Apokolipsian soldier displacing the loving wife in an instant. "What the fuck happened? How come your eyebrows are gone?"  "There was a fire."  "Darkseid's piss! Did you get hurt? Let me look  at you!"  "Only my costume was damaged."  "Did Blue Beetle and Booster Gold perish horribly?"  "No."  "Ah, well, next time, perhaps..."  "I came to retrieve another costume. There were  none at the Embassy."  "OF COURSE! You could not drop by just to see  me, could you? After all, I'm only your wife! AAARH! You men are all the same!"  He blinked, examining the options available, as  she left the room in clear anger. Having the wife angry was not convenient. The woman called Fire had also been very angry, yet she had calmed down after engaging in sexual activity. Learning from experience was most useful in these situations.  Wasting no time, he proceeded to disrobe.    **************************************    "OH-MY-GOD! OH-MY-GOD! OH-MY-GOD!"  "Mister Free! I'm Eugene Jacobs from across the  street. Please open up!"  He could hear the voices coming from the house,  so he knew they were in. This time they would get a piece of his mind. Sure, Brutus had done his business again on their lawn, but what kind of people could throw a poor, defenseless, Great Dane right across the street to land on the garage roof?  "OH-MY-GOD! YES! YES! OH-MY-GOD!"  "Mister Free! All this screaming is truly  intolerable!" he called out after further knocking and ringing the doorbell produced no results. He cared not if they were in the middle of some born-again Christian thing. He had to get an apology.  "GO AWAY!"  That had to be the wife. He usually heard her  shouting at least once a day. The language on that woman was abominable.  "MISTER FREE! OPEN UP!"  "GO AWAY, DAMN IT!"  "I DEMAND AN APOLOGY!"  "FUCK OFF!"  "What-? FUCK YOU!" he countered in indignation.  "OPEN UP, LADY! I DON'T CARE HOW MANY STEROIDS THE NEIGHBORS SAY YOU DO! YOU CANNOT SCARE-!"  The door suddenly opened with a power that  almost ripped off his hairpiece through air suction. Standing in the door was Barda, wearing nothing but sweat and a very angry expression.  "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"  Eugene Jacobs's mind was sent back decades, to  a time when everything was too big and complex to understand, and his parents were the biggest and scariest people in the world. He tried to speak, but his mouth had better survival instincts than the rest of him, and it remained wisely shut.  "BY DARKSEID'S FARTS, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?  AREN'T YOU ARE THE OWNER OF THAT SHIT-SPILLING DOG!"  Unfortunately, his eyes and hands had their own  little death wish, so while his eyes glanced about, unsure of whether to stare at the large round breasts heaving inches before and above his face, or at the perfectly shaven pubis crowning the two marble pillars of her legs, his hands decided to reach out and touch both to help with the decision.  Hours later, the fire department brought him  down from his garage roof.   **************************************   "Holy shit..." mumbled Oberon.  "Wait, it gets worse," Booster said, handing a  beer to Beetle, who passed the Doritos in return.  "How the hell did ya two record this?"  "What do you think? We sell it to Hard Copy or  not?"  "Now, you can't do that to a fellow Leaguer. Max  would... OH, MAN! THAT'S SICK!"  "Want some Doritos?" offered Booster.  "Can't we sell copies at a comic convention or  something?" Beetle asked.  "Sorry, you just can't make a profit off this."  "Aw, crap..."  "Nothing can stop you from posting it on the  Internet, though..."