The Magnificent Eight In “Unwelcome Guest”

By: Matt Weir

The Magnificent Eight sat at the Table of Destiny in the Mountain of Power, drinking Terrific Tea and playing Colossal Solitaire, when the Door of Arrivals opened.

“Oh no,” muttered the Golden Octopus. “Everybody!” he whispered, “Don’t look up! He’s here!”

“I knew it!” cried the Historic Waffle as he raised a syrup-covered limb to conceal the side of his face closest to the Door of Arrivals.

Just then a figure emerged from the Door of Arrivals. “Hey hey! It took me a while to get in because I think you guys accidentally gave me the wrong key.” It was Holocaust Boy, dressed in his trademark skintight black body suit with the words “THE HOLOCAUST IS HERE TO HELP!” ironed onto the back in yellow letters. His lack of a cape made him look like a ninja scuba diver, and the Ultimate Dictionary once called Holocaust Boy’s appearance “the definition of stupid.”

Holocaust Boy walked jovially over to the Table of Destiny, moved Secret Woman’s purse off of a chair and sat down. “What’s up?”

“Oh…uh…not much…you know…just…um…doin’ stuff,” mumbled Clarinet Jr. as he cleaned his reed bullets.

Suddenly, as everyone started awkwardly making excuses for leaving, the Crime Phone rang. The Answer answered. After listening to the shouting voice on the other end of the phone with wide, frightened eyes, he addressed all of the superheroes assembled. “Oh geez! The old synagogue is burning down! Someone has to go save the worshippers!”

“I’ll handle this!” exclaimed Holocaust Boy as he rushed towards the door. But the Velcro Building grabbed him by the shoulder. “Uh… I think you better not do this one.”

“Uh…why not?” Holocaust Boy looked around the room, waiting for an answer.

“Because…” started the Golden Octopus, chewing on a tentacle, trying to conjure the strength to tell Holocaust Boy, once and for all, what the problem was. “Because you are…uh…”

Just then, Holocaust Boy was shot from behind by a small Mexican man with a handlebar mustache. The man casually leaned on the Vending Machine of Convenience and admired his own accuracy.

Clarinet Jr. spoke first, letting out a sigh of relief. “Whew! Thanks Awkward Man!”

“I’m sure his death won’t be remembered as the Tragedy of the Century!” quipped the Historic Waffle as they all laughed the hearty laugh of justice.


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