Comic Book Villains Page #3

And that's our cast

of four-color characters.

No, wait.

There's one more.

The reason

I almost forgot him

is that

I didn't know this guy

when it all started.

None of us did

except Raymond,

and even his association

was from a long time ago.

And even his association

was from a long time ago.

Here he is...

J. C. Carter.

Though what

the j and the c stand for

though what

the j and the c stand for

are as mysterious

as the shadow.

And as you can see

at this moment in time,

the last thing

on his mind is comic books.

Hello?

Archie, hey.

Hey, what are you doing?

Babylon 5

is on.

It's a repeat.

It's a repeat.

So?

So don't you have

the week off work?

Yep, my boss

is making me take it.

So what are

you going to do with it?

I don't know.

I'll probably re-bag

part of my collection

and practice

how to make the perfect

grilled-cheese sandwich.

Hey, um, how'd you like

to spend tomorrow

driving around with me?

It's probably nothing.

No, we can't afford it.

Ok, well,

it's probably nothing,

so don't worry about it.

Well, why are

we bothering

if it's nothing?

Because maybe

it is something.

Because maybe

it is something.

Then we

should worry.

Can--

Norman.

Look, rumors like this one

drip down from

the clouds every few years.

The big collection.

You start hearing about

30, 40, 50 years of comic books

kept pristine

in a basement or a warehouse.

Usually it turns out

to be bullcrap.

50 years

of so-called collecting

turns out to be

a year of

Archie comics

in a cardboard box.

Turns out to be

a year of

Archie comics

in a cardboard box.

Or there's

a few old comics,

but the rats and the damp

have gotten to them.

So why bother?

Because you never know.

There was a collection once.

"The mile-high collection"

they call it now.

The man that found it

built a mini-empire

of comic-book stores

in Colorado and abouts.

Norman,

we can't afford to be

buying collections.

Our quarterly taxes

are due next week.

I know it.

Say, you want pizza tonight?

I want a baby.

Gee, I don't know

if I can get that

as a topping, honey.

How about, uh, sausage?

You bastard.

Say, where's the phone book?

The number for

the pizza store

is on the refrigerator.

No, I'm thinking

there can't be too many

cresswells in town, right?

Hey, I'm leaving.

I want to take a bath.

Ohh, nice.

Can I watch?

No, you can't.

I want an hour

to myself,

I want an hour

to myself,

so don't come over yet.

Ok.

So what are

you going to do?

Finish up here.

Oh, will you

grab something

on your way over?

What?

I'm making you

a meal tonight.

Macaroni and cheese?

No,

I'm making a roasted

vegetable omelette,

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