Captain America And Howard The Duck See America
Apr 10, 2017 23:11:44 GMT -5
shaxper, Jesse, and 3 more like this
Post by Batflunkie on Apr 10, 2017 23:11:44 GMT -5
Cap N' Howard See America: A Sociopolitical Farce
Dedicated with much love and affection to the memory of Steven Gerber, a brilliant mind snuffed out far too soon by aliments of the flesh
*cover shows Howard tripping the "I'm Just A Bill" Bill from School Of Rock down the Lincoln Memorial stairs with Steve/Cap looking on in horror*
Narrator: 2012, people break out in mass hysteria brought about by the ancient Mayan mis-prediction that the world would burn to cinders in a spectacle of fire and agony not unlike that of Pompeii centuries prior. Too bad they were about six years off. It is now the current month of 2017 and an Aryan Adonis sits by a calm brook, reel in hand, trying to still the horrors that wrack his innocent mind.
*cut to Steve Rogers, alias Captain America, sitting out by a pond at the Carter residence with his right hand sullenly slouched about his jawline*
*a gentle breeze blows, ruffling his dress shirt, coyly exposing his Captain America costume underneath*
Narrator: These are dark times, times that try men's souls. Times that test the mettle and devotion to the hopes, dreams, and priciples that America was founded on. Enter Steve Rogers, the son of Irish immigrants, brought up in the devil-may-care slums of New York. To him, the war in Germany might as well have been at home.
*show Steve cornered in an alleyway by numerous thugs, one wielding a pocket knife, streaking it against Steve's scared face. a trickle of blood runs down his cheek*
Narrator: Since the day he was born, Steve Rogers had been a scrapper. But the runt of the litter can only fight off his ferral kin for so long before he no longer has the strength.
*show Steve in the hospital with Bucky Barnes beside him in a state of worried distress*
Narrator: To prove himself worthy of his citizenship as well as his country, Steve enlisted in the army. But time and time again, he was denied of chance to finally be someone, someone he could stand to look at in the morning.
*show Steve in his bathroom, sourly looking at himself in the mirror. He begins seeing red "4-F" stamps everywhere*
*the next day, it's mid-afternoon in august. Steve is dressing in causal attire of the period, tying his necktie. Behind him on his bed is his childhood friend Bucky Barnes, playing with his garrison cap*
Bucky: [mildly annoyed] Steve, how many times is it going to take you getting rejected for you to finally call this whole farce off?
*Steve glances at Bucky out of the corner of his eye in the mirror. It hurts him to have such a tumultuous quibble with his older brother figure*
Steve: As many times as it takes Mr. Barnes. If not today, maybe tomorrow.
Bucky: As refreshing as it is to finally see you feign some sense of optimism Steve, we both know damn well that you only call me "Barnes" when I'm goading you into a corner that you can't hope to crawl out of. What are you trying to prove? And if so, whom to?
*Steve can't even look at Bucky anymore, he's so frustrated*
Steve: James, let me tell you a story...
*Barnes rolls his eyes and reaches into Steve's nightstand for a flask of whiskey*
Steve: It's a story about a boy. A boy who never thought that he would ever amount to anything, a boy who could never fight back no matter how hard he tried. A boy who could never look his family, even his friends, square in the eye because of how utterly ashamed he was with himself.
Bucky: I feel like I've heard this one maybe about a hundred times now. Steve, this story of yours, does it have a point?
*Steve weakly grabs Bucky's collar*
Steve: I am going to that enlistment registry with or without you. I'm not going to force you to come with me Barnes, but I'd appreciate at least some sentiment of support.
*Bucky chugs the last little bit of whiskey and tosses it in a nearby rubbish bin with the accuracy of a seasoned basketball star*
Bucky: Alright Steve, have it your way. Just promise me that if you finally get something other than a bad USD stamp on that scrawny hide of yours that you'll stay safe, okay? The last thing I want is you running into a mine field and coming home in chunks so small that your folks can't even make you out
*Bucky and Steve embrace in a hug*
Dedicated with much love and affection to the memory of Steven Gerber, a brilliant mind snuffed out far too soon by aliments of the flesh
*cover shows Howard tripping the "I'm Just A Bill" Bill from School Of Rock down the Lincoln Memorial stairs with Steve/Cap looking on in horror*
Narrator: 2012, people break out in mass hysteria brought about by the ancient Mayan mis-prediction that the world would burn to cinders in a spectacle of fire and agony not unlike that of Pompeii centuries prior. Too bad they were about six years off. It is now the current month of 2017 and an Aryan Adonis sits by a calm brook, reel in hand, trying to still the horrors that wrack his innocent mind.
*cut to Steve Rogers, alias Captain America, sitting out by a pond at the Carter residence with his right hand sullenly slouched about his jawline*
*a gentle breeze blows, ruffling his dress shirt, coyly exposing his Captain America costume underneath*
Narrator: These are dark times, times that try men's souls. Times that test the mettle and devotion to the hopes, dreams, and priciples that America was founded on. Enter Steve Rogers, the son of Irish immigrants, brought up in the devil-may-care slums of New York. To him, the war in Germany might as well have been at home.
*show Steve cornered in an alleyway by numerous thugs, one wielding a pocket knife, streaking it against Steve's scared face. a trickle of blood runs down his cheek*
Narrator: Since the day he was born, Steve Rogers had been a scrapper. But the runt of the litter can only fight off his ferral kin for so long before he no longer has the strength.
*show Steve in the hospital with Bucky Barnes beside him in a state of worried distress*
Narrator: To prove himself worthy of his citizenship as well as his country, Steve enlisted in the army. But time and time again, he was denied of chance to finally be someone, someone he could stand to look at in the morning.
*show Steve in his bathroom, sourly looking at himself in the mirror. He begins seeing red "4-F" stamps everywhere*
*the next day, it's mid-afternoon in august. Steve is dressing in causal attire of the period, tying his necktie. Behind him on his bed is his childhood friend Bucky Barnes, playing with his garrison cap*
Bucky: [mildly annoyed] Steve, how many times is it going to take you getting rejected for you to finally call this whole farce off?
*Steve glances at Bucky out of the corner of his eye in the mirror. It hurts him to have such a tumultuous quibble with his older brother figure*
Steve: As many times as it takes Mr. Barnes. If not today, maybe tomorrow.
Bucky: As refreshing as it is to finally see you feign some sense of optimism Steve, we both know damn well that you only call me "Barnes" when I'm goading you into a corner that you can't hope to crawl out of. What are you trying to prove? And if so, whom to?
*Steve can't even look at Bucky anymore, he's so frustrated*
Steve: James, let me tell you a story...
*Barnes rolls his eyes and reaches into Steve's nightstand for a flask of whiskey*
Steve: It's a story about a boy. A boy who never thought that he would ever amount to anything, a boy who could never fight back no matter how hard he tried. A boy who could never look his family, even his friends, square in the eye because of how utterly ashamed he was with himself.
Bucky: I feel like I've heard this one maybe about a hundred times now. Steve, this story of yours, does it have a point?
*Steve weakly grabs Bucky's collar*
Steve: I am going to that enlistment registry with or without you. I'm not going to force you to come with me Barnes, but I'd appreciate at least some sentiment of support.
*Bucky chugs the last little bit of whiskey and tosses it in a nearby rubbish bin with the accuracy of a seasoned basketball star*
Bucky: Alright Steve, have it your way. Just promise me that if you finally get something other than a bad USD stamp on that scrawny hide of yours that you'll stay safe, okay? The last thing I want is you running into a mine field and coming home in chunks so small that your folks can't even make you out
*Bucky and Steve embrace in a hug*
