Chapter 25

“Dude, it’s like we just can’t get a fucking Taxi today!” growled Wolverine.
“Yeah, man!” snarled Spiderman, “It’s probably because we’re not white!”
“Ha!” laughed Wolverine. “Speak for yourself! I’m white for sure. You’re just blue and red!”
“Oh, you!” winked Spiderman. Just then, a taxi pulled up, and the taxi driver yelled out,
“Get in! Get in!” Spiderman and Wolverine got into the taxi and sat down in the back seat.
“Take us to the old abandoned insane asylum!” commanded Spiderman.
“Waaa!” gasped the cab driver, “Are you boys sure you wanna go there? I hear it’s haunted.”
“Ooh, I’m scared!” moaned Wolverine, “Not! Just take us to the fucking old abandoned insane asylum, old man.”
“Okay, alright…yeesh!” replied the grizzled cabbie, who promptly hit the accelerator and began to zoom towards their destination.
On the car ride to the old abandoned insane asylum, Wolverine asked a pertinent question.
“Spiderman…why aren’t we web-swinging to the asylum?”
“I’m glad you asked,” replied Spiderman. “Well, basically, I only have one shot of web left.”
“Hmmm…” groaned Wolverine, “I thought your web blasters were biological and hence endlessly available for web blasting. Inquiring minds want to know…is your web shot biological, or did you create it in a lab?”
“Eh,” ehed Spiderman, “It’s a little bit of both.”
“Dude…” moaned Wolverine, “I totally understand.”
“Wolverine,” said Spiderman, lightly punching Wolverine on the shoulder, “You’re my best friend!”
“Yeah, yeah…I know,” responded Wolverine. “Well anyway…stop being such a fag; we’re almost to the insane asylum.” Sure enough, two minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of the old abandoned insane asylum, a bleak, godless building built of brick and mortar and concrete and plywood.
“Here we are, fellaz…” said the cab driver, “That’ll be 20 bucks even…plus tip.”
“Hey, fag: here’s your tip,” rapped Wolverine, who proceeded to shink out his claws and stab the cab driver in the brain. Spiderman started cracking up and he was like,
“Dude, not cool! What if they convict you of murder?”
“Bah!” bahed Wolverine, “They’ll never prove it was me. Wolverine proceeded to tie a brick to the accelerator of the cab, making sure to hold down the brake as he did so. As he let go of the brake, the cab, driver in tow, went speeding off into the horizon, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
“I guess that’s the last we’ll see of him!” quipped Spiderman. After the guys spent a few minutes laughing at that comment, they became a lot more serious and steadied their resolve to steal Mr. Crazy’s poop.
“Alright man,” groped Wolverine, “That was a funny remark, but now it’s game time. We have to steal Mr. Crazy’s poop or we’re never gonna get him where we want him.”
“Okay,” replied Spiderman, “And let’s not forget to use our inside voices…if Mr. Crazy is lurking inside this bitch, we don’t want him to know what it is.”
“What?” asked Spiderman?
“Nevermind,” groaned Wolverine. “It’s a black thing.”
“I know,” moaned Spiderman, “But I don’t think that was the correct usage by any means.”
“What it is, Spiderman?” queried Wolverine, “What it is?”
“Oooookay,” okayed Spiderman, “Well anyway, let’s head on into the spot…keep it tight and keep your guard up.”
“Word, dawg.” The two heroes proceeded to stride cautiously through the front doors of the old abandoned insane asylum. The moment they stepped inside, a strange chill seemed to fill the air and they heard what sounded like a very faint woman’s scream.
“W-what was th-th-that?” stuttered Wolverine.
“That was nothing…I hope,” replied Spiderman. “Let’s keep on moving.” The dudes continued walking deeper and deeper into the old abandoned insane asylum of mystery, their dread and loneliness growing with each step of their feet.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this!” shuddered Wolverine. Just then, a ghost jumped out of the wall and scared the shit out of our heroes.
“Oh, snap!” gasped Wolverine. “Oh shit, okay, it’s just a ghost…thank God.”
“Woo!” wooed Spiderman. “Yeah, for a second there I was really freaking the fuck out.”
“Sooorry guuuuys!” moaned the ghost with genuine remorse. After taking a moment to regain their composure, Spiderman and Wolverine continued on their voyage through the old abandoned insane asylum.
“Sniff, sniff,” said Wolverine as he sniffed the air. “It smells like…it smells like shit.”
“We’re on the right track!” whispered Spiderman. Wolverine used his keen sense of smell to slowly lead them closer and closer to the source of the offending odor. At some point the poop smell grew so strong that even Spiderman could smell it despite the presence of his mask.
“Hey, do you see that?” asked Wolverine.
“See what?” replied Spiderman.
“That flickering light!” whispered Wolverine.
“Oh yeah, I saw that like 10 seconds ago,” yawned Spiderman.
“Let’s go investigate!” suggested Wolverine.
“Okay, buddy!” agreed Spiderman. The two heroes stealthily crept toward the light source, slowly becoming overwhelmed by the stench of human excrement. After several increasingly tense moments, Spiderman and Wolverine finally rounded a nearby corner to face the lair of Mr. Crazy.
“Wow,” wowed Spiderman.
“Ho-ly shit,” shat Wolverine. Mr. Crazy’s lair was a one-room clutterfest. Strewn across the place were all sorts of lit candles, human skulls, human-skull candles, pizza crusts, and mason jars filled to the brim with undeveloped fetuses. All of these created a stunning décor, but by far the centerpiece of the room was large, wooden table smeared with layers upon layers of poop.
“Mmm…chocolate!” said Spiderman.
“Spiderman…” groaned Wolverie, “That’s not chocolate!” They both had a good laugh at that one, and proceeded to walk up to the table and examine it more closely.
“Jesus!” exclaimed Spiderman, “He’s used his own poop to create an oversized portrait of Whoopi Goldberg!”
“It’s incredibly lifelike!” praised Wolverine, “And look here, he even smeared in a title for his masterpiece…it says, ‘Poopy Goldberg!’ My God, that’s simply fantastic.”
“You know,” mused Spiderman, “For a guy who blew Jerry Seinfeld in half, this Mr. Crazy doesn’t seem half bad.”
“Spiderman!” growled Wolverine, “What are you saying, man? Don’t forget why we’re here…to steal Mr. Crazy’s poop and use it against him in a brilliant plot designed to facilitate the destruction of this evil, evil man.”
“You’re right,” sighed Spiderman, “Just because you’re an artist doesn’t mean you’re not a bad person. I mean, just look at Little Richard.”
“Hey,” smiled Wolverine, “What do you think Little Richard calls his penis? Like, what…Little Little Richard?”
“Oh, Wolverine,” cackled Spiderman, “You are just too much!”
“Oh, I know,” replied Wolverine, who then did a weird whole-body shiver.
“Well, we’d better collect up some of this poop and get it back to the lab.”
“You mean…your apartment?” queried Wolverine.
“Correct,” replied Spiderman, who whipped out a plastic bag and prepared to insert some of Mr. Crazy’s feces into it.
“Hold on just a minute, Spidey,” said Wolverine, taking a finger and swiping it through the thickly spread human waste. “Just as I thought, this poop is greasy and watery, much too thinned-out for our purposes.”
“By God, you’re right, Wolverine,” replied Spiderman, slapping a hand on his forehead, “If we use this poop, the Fuzzy Pumper hair effect will be less than desirable, to say the least. In order to make this happen, we’re gonna need something a little more…solid.”
“Well, it looks like Mr. Crazy’s bathroom is right over there…let’s go check it out.”
“Right-o!” agreed Spiderman, and the guys went skipping happily over to a restroom recessed into the back wall of Mr. Crazy’s hideout. Within, they found a strangely immaculate porcelain commode. In the bowl floated a single, perfectly-formed turd.
“I think we’ve got our man!” laughed Spiderman, pointing at the cool bowel movement. He whipped out a plastic bag and prepared to insert Mr. Crazy’s turd into it.
“Hold on just a minute, Spidey,” said Wolverine. “Did you happen to check out the walls in here?” Spiderman looked up from the toilet to see that the bathroom was papered with hundreds of newspaper clippings from Oregon’s #1 newspaper, appropriately called The Oregonian.
“My good Lord, it’s…us!” gasped the web demon, staring at many, many black and white photographs of himself and Wolverine. “It looks like he’s been following our exploits for years!”
“Yes…” mumbled Wolverine, in awe of the shrined-out restroom. “He must have clipped every Oregonian article ever written about us! Look here, this one is from the time we foiled that bank robbery!”
“Dude,” duded Spiderman, “This one’s about the time you accidentally shot that guy! Remember that?”
“Yeah, vaguely...” replied Wolverine, blushing. “Oh snap-ola, he’s even got an article about the time we defeated that dinosaur from the future! Fuckin’ rad, dude!”
“Fuckin’ rad, indeed, Hang-glider and Soylent Green!” rang the voice of Mr. Crazy from behind our heroes.
“Guhhh,” guhed Wolverine, whipping around in a daze.
“Oh no!” gasped Spiderman, “Mr. Crazy’s back and he looks realllllly mad!”
“Darn tootin’ I’m mad,” snarled Mr. Crazy, “How dare you invade my personal space! You never have any respect for me..Dr. Dre’s parents don’t treat him like this. I hate you! I swear to god I hate you!” Mr. Crazy’s jacket began to glow, indicating that it was surging with mysterious energy.
“Uh oh,” said Wolverine, “I think he’s about to fuck some shit up, we need to get out of here...and fast!”
Spiderman’s mind began to spin like a spider spinning a web, trying desperately to devise a way out of the frightening predicament. As his thoughts turned to that last blast of webbing that he had saved, a genius solution immediately became apparent.
“Wolverine!” he shouted, “Grab on tight and don’t let go!” Wolverine quickly wrapped his arms around his pal, confident in the leadership abilities of the amazing Spiderman. Spiderman proceed to take his wrist and point it at the toilet bowl. He let loose with a blast of his juice, which attached itself firmly to the much-lauded turd floating around below. With his free hand, he reached over and pushed down on the toilet handle. “Here we gooooooo!”
With those words, Spiderman and Wolverine were sucked into the toilet, vanishing from sight just as one of Mr. Crazy’s patented explosive NBA logos went crashing into the bathroom wall. A cacophonous rumble echoed through the halls of the insane asylum as Mr. Crazy’s modest restroom was blown into a mess of tile and grout and newsprint and spraying water. When the dust cleared, and there was no sign of our heroes, Mr. Crazy turned his head toward the heavens and screamed out the only thing that seemed fitting:
“Damn you, Spiderman and Wolverine! I’ll get you for this!”