Disclaimer: Spawn and Gareb belong to Image Comics; Batman, Azrael, and Superman belong to DC Comics; and Darkness and Perry belong to Top Cow Comics.

After visiting my local comic shop, I did this story. It’s not really a Valentine’s thing, but I like to think it’s funny. Everyone can use a good laugh, right? Let’s hope so. Enjoy!

Dead Men Tell Really Long Tales...When They’re Drunk

Gareb ran into the dark alley, his eyes wide with fear. “Al, where are you?!” he cried, searching for his friend. As he reached the trash bin, he heard a low moan. Pushing some old bags aside, he saw a red glove sticking out. He grabbed the glove and tugged hard. Maybe a little too hard. The dead man came flying out of the pile of beer bottles and old pizza boxes, slamming into Gareb with the force of a freight train. Yup, definitely too hard. Gareb fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

“Al, you have to go!” Gareb gasped after he caught his breath.

The man rose unsteadily from the ground. “Go away, Gareb,” he said in a slurred, deep voice.

Gareb ran to him and grabbed his arm. “But Al, they’ve come for you!”

Al arched an eyebrow at the old man, which was really hard to do, since his eyebrows had been burned off long ago. “Who has, Gareb? Who would dare to enter my alleys?”

“We would,” a deep voice said.

Al spun around, his red cape and chains tensing up. “Who’s there?!” he roared, frothing at the mouth.

The man stepped from the shadows, a frown on his face. “Put the chains away, Spawn,” he said, walking towards the two.

It only took Spawn a few seconds to recognize him. “Batman? What are you doing back here?”

“Not just Batman,” another voice said, as a man in red dropped from a nearby roof. He landed on his feet, surprisingly enough.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Spawn scoffed.

“He’s Azrael,” Batman snapped, obviously upset. Then again, Batman was always upset.

“Go away,” Spawn said, turning back to his trash pile. “I’ve got a nasty hangover and I’m not in the mood.” He flopped face-first into the trash.

Gareb made a face. “Al, have you been eating that Mexican food again?”

“What Mexican food?” the troll asked as it strolled up to them.

“The Mexican food that’s been there for three months,” Gareb replied calmly. Then he did a double-take and hid behind Batman. “What is that thing?!” he cried.

“It’s a troll,” Batman said. “You have a problem with this?”

“Well, aren’t they only supposed to exist in fairy tales?” Gareb asked.

Azrael shook his head. “Only fairy tales, television specials, and certain crappy comics.”

“I heard that,” Jackie Estacado said as he emerged from the darkness. Well, that’s a bad way of putting it, because Jackie Estacado was the Darkness. It’s hard to explain. Anyway, Darkness emerged from...uh...the shadows! “Lay off my troll and my comic, Az-Bat-Boy,” he said, his eyes glowing bright orange.

“Make me, Darknut,” Azrael said, wishing there was a slot in his mask so he could stick out his tongue.

“At least my comic didn’t need a jump-start off a certain hero’s comics, which have been around nearly a decade!” Darkness replied.

“Hey, I’m sensitive about my age!” Batman mumbled, looking hurt.

“Oh, puh-lease and a half, Jackie! Everybody knows that you’re just a crummy rip-off of Witchblade!” Azrael yelled.

“ARGH!” Darkness screamed. “Don’t call me by my real name, JEAN PAUL VALLEY!”

“Oh, that’s it, Dark Ness, the Lockjaw Monster! You’re going down!” Azrael tackled Darkness, making sure to bite his shins. Darkness grunted and smacked him across the head.

“Beat him like he owes you money, boss!” Perry shouted. (Perry is the troll that freaked out Gareb a few paragraphs ago.)

“Always with the fighting,” Batman sighed. “Can’t we all just get along?”

“Keep it down, will you?” Spawn said. “Noise is no good for a hangover.”

Batman grabbed Spawn and hauled him from the trash. “Look, there really is a good reason for us being here!”

“I’d love to hear about it. Tomorrow, that is,” Spawn chortled.

Batman glared and smacked him across the face. “Ouch!” Batman shouted, holding one of his gloved hands.

Spawn broke into a round of loud guffaws. “Don’t you remember what I told you last time you hit me? I’m the Superman of Image Comics!”

“Oh, shouldn’t have done that!” Perry whispered.

Instantly, Darkness, Azrael, and Batman tackled Spawn. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?!” Azrael said.

“Yeah, you trying to get us sued?” Darkness asked, rising from the ground.

“Yeah, DC’s real strict when it comes to that,” Batman said, scratching his head. (Which must have looked really odd, because those long, pointy ears get in the way.)

“Why did you guys come here anyway?” Spawn asked, suddenly glad that Todd McFarlane had made him pretty much invincible.

Darkness cleared his throat, and rather loudly, too. “We’ve come to invite you to join our swell ranks!” he proclaimed.

“Actually, our ranks aren’t swelling, because there’s only a few--” Azrael began, but Batman cut him off with a sharp look.

“What ranks?” Spawn asked. “I thought all us anti-hero types worked alone.”

Batman and Azrael stared at him. Darkness would’ve, if he wasn’t imagining how good Witchblade looked in a torn dress. “Do you realize I’ve been stuck with that stupid Boy Wonder for nearly two decades?” Batman asked.

“It’s a DC rule,” Azrael added. “You’ve got to have some other hero in your book every few months, just to keep it from sucking too bad.”

Spawn yawned. “Too bad. I don’t really have that problem. Unless you count the crossovers with Witchblade, Batman, Angela, and the upcoming one with--” He suddenly paused. “Man, I guess it really is a problem.”

“Forget that stuff,” Azrael snapped. “We’re supposed to be talking about the DLA!”

“What’s a DLA?” Spawn asked.

“Not a DLA, the DLA,” Batman corrected him. “It’s the newly formed Dark Legion of Anti-Heroes.”

“Named for me, of course,” Darkness said.

Batman and Azrael smirked and shouted, “NOT!” at the same time, and simultaneously, too.

“So, you want to join us?” Batman asked. “There’s no dues or anything, and you get a life-long insurance plan.”

Perry tugged on his cape. “Uh...Batman? Just how would the DLA’s life-long insurance plan work for a dead guy?”

Batman began to explain. “Well, Perry, it just--” He stopped, realizing Perry’s point. “Oh. Well, I’m sure we could make certain changes for Spawn’s unique circumstances.”

Spawn rubbed his head. “I don’t know whether to feel special or retarded,” he said.

“Aren’t they both the same thing?” Azrael asked.

“Shut up,” Darkness and Batman muttered.

“Geez, rough crowd,” Azrael mumbled.

“Guys, I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy just being a loner,” Spawn said.

“You have to join! If you don’t, we won’t be your friends!” Azrael whined.

Spawn leapt to his feet. “I guess we’re not friends then. And that makes you...an enemy!” Before Azrael could react, Spawn slammed into him (again, with the force of a freight train) and shouted, “To me, my friends!” In seconds, the alley was filled with hundreds of bums.

“Man, something stinks,” Darkness said, waving away the fumes.

“Run!” Batman shouted as the bums began to advance on them.

“Hold it!” a voice shouted before the fighting could start. Superman swooped down from the rooftops.

“Crap, they’re onto us!” Batman muttered as the Man o’ Steel landed next to him.

Superman clapped a firm hand on Batman’s shoulder. “You and your little friends are coming with me. The JLA would like to speak with you about a certain wall back at headquarters that was spraypainted.”

“I told you to leave it alone!” Darkness whispered.

“Oh, but it seemed like a good idea at the time!” Batman whined. Superman shoved them. “Let’s go. Come along, Azrael.” Azrael tumbled away from Spawn, his costume stained with a green liquid. Superman grabbed the three and rocketed into the night sky.

Spawn fingered his still-flaming wounds. “Man, that guy’s a real hothead, huh?” one of the bums asked.

“That was so lame, I won’t even bother,” Spawn said.

The bum lowered his head and walked away. Soon the alley was empty again, save for Gareb and Spawn. “What are you going to do now?” Gareb asked.

“Try and get rid of this hangover,” Spawn said. “Goodnight, old man.”

“See you in the morning, Al,” Gareb said with a wave. Spawn flopped back into the trash, and Gareb slowly made his way back to pile of banana peels that was his bed. Just as he reached it, twelve bright eyes suddenly appeared in the darkness. Gareb shrieked and fell to the ground in shock.

“Who are you?” he asked, the fear apparent in his eyes.

Six small children emerged from the shadows. One of them, a boy with reddish-brown hair and white streaks down the middle, spoke up. “I’m X-Kid, and this is the Cute Troop! We’re looking for some guy named Spawn. You know him?”

Instead of answering, Gareb screamed in terror and ran back into the alley. “Al, they’ve come for you again!” he shouted.

“What’s his problem?” Jacko asked as Gareb disappeared around the corner.

“Maybe he doesn’t think we’re cute?” Sara asked.

They all stared at each other for a bit before saying at the same time, “NAH! Couldn’t be!”

The End?!

(Actually, it is. Heh.)