My back is killing me.
I checked it in the bathroom before I left work - I had a pancake size bruise on the small of my back that was starting to go purple around the edges. The bus ride home didn't help.
I had to stand on the bus on the way home - it seemed to take twice as long as the morning bus ride, and it smelled twice as bad. Like somebody smeared fish and cabbage all over themselves. I'm standing in the back, holding on to the hand rail, lurching with every stop. The bus driver seems to be playing a mean game with the brakes.
I Tivo'd the local news to see how my fight with Exploder was playing to the masses. I led the news on KLUB, which had the best coverage. They had helicopter footage of my exploded car and the battleground. It looked like I really kicked the shit out of Exploder. The EC SWAT guys hauled his unconscious ass away in one of those containment vans.
And can I just say that Leslie Milton, KLUB's girl reporter, is hot? She's got a whole naughty librarian thing going on with the glasses. I kept rewinding to hear her say, "...police aren't willing to speculate, but it looks like the mysterious Velvet Marauder has struck again."
Mysterious. I'm mysterious.
It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.
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