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NIC'S PICS AND NIX
by Nicolas Juzda
Sometimes, the name of a comic book story is the tip-off. It can
tell you what sort of creation the author has envisioned; it can convey
plot or tone (or both); it can stand as a perfect reflection in microcosm of
the tale that will follow.
Consider, as an example, "The TT's Swingin' Christmas Carol" (written by Bob Haney, and with art by Nick Cardy).
Originally published in TEEN TITANS #13 (coincidence?), and more easily available in both the holiday themed BEST OF DC BLUE RIBBON DIGEST #22 and CHRISTMAS WITH THE SUPER-HEROES #1, this story is just exactly what the title would have you imagine.
Only worse.
As our story begins, stingy junkyard owner Ebenezer Scrounge is
working his poor assistant Bob Ratchet rather hard. Poor Ratchet must
work for Scrounge's meager wages in order to pay for a new wheelchair for his crippled son, Tiny Tom.
("Ebenezer Scrounge". "Bob Ratchet". "Tiny Tom". What this
story's literary references lack in subtlety, they sure as hell make up
for in extraordinary contrivance. Not to mention courting of copyright
violation lawsuits.)
Uncharacteristically, Scrooge... I mean, Scrounge lets his
overworked employee go home early; a decision that signifies something
sinister is afoot.
As Ratchet's wheelchair-bound son, Tiny Tom, lurks in the shadows,
Scrounge has a meeting with two sinister looking characters; the latter whom hand over a large wad of bills.
"Mr. Big says to be ready for another delivery in a day or so,"
announces one of the thugs.
"I'm always ready, boys! And I don't want to know what you do
with this junk after I leave at night. That's your business... making
money is my business," replies Scrounge.
"Something real weird about this," Tiny Tom observes, sensing
something terribly amiss in a junkyard receiving shipments of junk. He
thus stays around to watch the mysterious strangers at work once Scrounge has left. Let's take a look at what he sees them do.
So, the evil plot stands revealed. These dastardly fiends are...
uh...
Well, they're bringing in junk from other countries (although God
knows why, considering the ready availability of domestic junk), and thus not paying terribly much in the way of duty. Neither illegal nor immoral actions, per se.
But then they use a ray to make the junk into new stuff. Even
taking into account the DC Universe's need to deal with super-scientific
crimes, this is just a high tech way of fixing up old junk so it works
again. That can't be bad. In fact, these days, it's called "recycling".
We generally encourage it. This Mr. Big person probably gets all sorts of
awards for his noble environmentalist efforts.
So, maybe the "crime" is that he then sells the stuff his ray has
fixed at low, low prices. Prices that seriously undercut those of the big
car companies and whatnot; whose powerful lobbies, no doubt, have the Teen Titans (who'll shortly move into action against him) in their pocket.
Suddenly it all becomes clear. Damn those spandex clad tools of the
corporate establishment!
And they thought that (alleged) slang would fool us.
Speaking of said anti-environmental propagators of the current
social order, our story resumes with Tiny Tom having summoned Robin,
Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, and Aqualad; then the roster of the Teen Titans.
"That is quite a story," Robin admits, his standards being just a tad
lower than mine. "A smuggling racket to turn junk into valuable goods --
using that junkyard as a base of operations."
When the "smugglers" (since the story calls these noble environmentalist pioneers that so constantly, I'm afraid I must, for
convenience, as well) pull up in their truck and undo the chain that guards Scrounge's yard -- a security measure that apparently had the Junior Justice League completely stymied -- the Titans spring into action.
"Okay, team, let's make like junk," cries Robin, uttering the famed and touching Titans battle cry in a way that always brings a tear to my eye.
With typical super-hero regard for private property laws (you
don't need no warrants when you've got super-powers, goshdarnit), the
Titans clamber onto the back of the truck as it carries them inside.
The best laid schemes of mice and men oft go awry, however. Before the smugglers can use their miraculous machine: a mysterious, shadowy figure attacks them, and they flee.
"Mumblin' Mantas, Robin... they're leavin', and we never really
saw them switch the junk into new stuff," Aqualad declares; keenly aware
that -- sans proper evidence -- the Federal Anti-Recycling Task Forcee will
never get a conviction.
"Obvious but true, Gill Head," comes the Algonquin Round Table-style
rejoinder of Robin, the Witty Wonder. (In later years, of course,
workplace harassment statutes would protect poor Garth from the cruel
jibes of his surface dwelling compatriots. But those days were far in the
future, when this tale was printed; in a darker, less enlightened time.)
Meanwhile, Scrounge is being visited by the same mysterious
figure.
"Jacob Farley! No... it's not possible! You aren't real...
you're a ghost!" Scrounge shrieks, as Farley prepares to beat the crap out
of him.
(If anyone out there is even considering trying to glean the plot
of A CHRISTMAS CAROL from this in lieu of actually reading the book, you may wish to know that -- in the original story -- Marley's ghost peacefully warns Scroooge not to make the same mistakes he did, lest he suffer in the afterlife. And there weren't any "smugglers"; recycling rays; or spandex clad teenagers. Maybe you should just go read the book after all.)
Before Farley, who (incidentally) is still among the living, can
make good his threats to Scrounge: the Titans intervene.
"Right, Mr. Farley. Now, since you've obviously escaped from
prison," the Boy Wonder announces, having shrewdly deduced said Holmesian observation from the fact that Farley is wearing a pair of white and black horizontally striped pajamas and matching hat. "You've got some tall explaining to do!"
A quick two panel summary of the chain of events that led to
Farley's incarceration (for accidents resulting from defective merchandise
he and Scrounge had sold) is followed by Scrounge threatening to call the
police to remove the Titans and Farley; the latter of whom seems to have
quietly removed himself anyway.
The puzzled Titans look around until Tiny Tom informs the apprentice to the World's Greatest Detective that "he went out that window," and points to a nearby open window.
"Come on, Titans! Bug out- - !" Robin orders somewhat incoherently.
But an investigation of the outside area reveals nothing.
"He's gone... vanished," Flash reports.
"Howling wolfish, what a wacko twist," Aqualad replies, in what
I'm almost positive is actually some arcane Atlantean dialect, and not
English.
And then -- without another word on the subject oof the convicted
felon's abrupt departure from their very midst -- the eerily unconcerned
Titans turn their incredibly short attention spans to the latest
brainstorm of Robin, the Boy Bibliophile; who's finally figured out just
what literary work Mr. Haney has been buying elements from at a bulk
discount rate.
"Haven't you characters begun to dig it yet? Ebenezer Scrounge... Jacob Farley... Tiny Tom here?"
For those readers who were a tad on the slow side, Aqualad helpfully spells out the obvious. "Yow!... I dig! Scrooge... Jacob Marley... Tiny Tim... it's just like Dickens' A CHRISTMAS CAROL."
Meanwhile, mere feet away: young Tom begins to suffer a lifelong crisis of existential angst from the unexpected revelation that he is nothing more than a cheap literary reference.
"And we thought it couldn't happen," declares Robin, in a manner
that seems to imply that the Teen Titans had indeed considered at length
this possibility at one of their meetings. (That's what happens when you
let Speedy take his appointed turn as chairperson, I guess.)
Then, as the other Titans smile and nod and make no sudden
movements, Robin outlines his plan. "Maybe we can take a page from
Charles Dickens, and make Scrounge change his miserable ways." Because dismissing the names as an improbable but meaningless coincidence...
... well, that would be just plain goofy.
(To be fair to the Well-Read Wonder, re-enacting A CHRISTMAS CAROL counts as a full fledged comic book cliché; one he himself had already gone through several times. For some inexplicable reason, super- heroes lend themselves to this 19th Century novel significantly better than they do, say, LITTLE WOMEN.)
And -- before you can say "Hey, weren't they on a case involving
smugglers or something?" -- the Titans have begun to implement Operation: Plagiarism.
In quick succession, Scrounge is visited by the Ghost of Christmas
Past (Kid Flash in a big spooky cloak); the Ghost of Christmas Present
(Aqualad in a big spooky cloak); and the Ghost of Christmas Future (Wonder Girl in a tight-fitting, short skirted Santa suit. Naturally).
For those of you who don't want to go and check the actual Dickens
novel for the summary of these goings on (it's less painful, trust me),
the Ghost of Christmas Past (I just told you that was Kid Flash; try to
pay attention, no matter how much it hurts) shows Scrounge how happy he used to be when he was "young, handsome, popular, and in love." Because if he hadn't been such a miser, he'd still be young...
.. okay, but he'd still be handsome...
... maybe not? How about popular, then? (You know; one of those really popular aged junkyard owners, the ones who liven up any party, and whirl up and down the nightclub scene.)
(I'd like to apologize to any senior citizen junkyard owners
reading this, incidentally; although I think Bob Haney should have to, as
well.)
This is followed by the Ghost of Christmas Present (Aqualad; this'll be on the test, so you should be taking notes) demonstrating that Bob Farley must pick up garbage from the junkyard to repair Tiny Tom's wheelchair, and work for Scrounge's low wages so he can buy his son an electric wheelchair "so Tom can move about like other children". They were all riding around in electric wheelchairs, back in the day, you see. A (mercifully) short-lived fad; kind of like hoola hoops. Or disco.
(I'd like to apologize to any handicapped people reading this,
incidentally; although I think Bob Haney should have to, as well.)
And, finally: Wonder Girl flies by in her cute little Santa suit
(nothing scares cranky old geezers like nubile teenage girls in revealing
outfits. Just ask Unca Cheeks), using her power of super-ventriloquism (well, technically, it was Superman and not Wonder Girl who had super- ventriloquism; but what's a super-power or two between friends?) to
make Scrounge hear the voices of people scoffing over his grave, and only Tiny Tom standing up for him. Unfortunately, in mid routine she's shot down by the returning smugglers.
(I'd like to apologize to anyone with a brain reading this, incidentally; although I think Bob Haney should have to, as well.)
"Those ghosts... they weren't real... it was the Titans," exclaims one of the gunmen. And there's something charming about the fact that -- in the Silver Age DC Universe -- the fact that the ghosts were actually a teenaged Atlantean; Amazon; and super-speedster is a plausible (and even comforting) explanation.
As both Flash and Aqualad shed their cloaks, Robin and ol' Gill
Head take a swing at some of the smugglers, then tend to their fallen
comrade until something unexpected happens.
"Suffering sticklebacks! They're yankin' Miss Ponytail out of our
ever-lovin' hands!" Aqualad exclaims, as a large magnet pulls Wonder Girl
out of his "ever-lovin'" hands, which -- in the previous panel -- had been
>wrapped around her knees. (I guess Atlanteans do things a bit... differently.)
Wonder Girl is dumped into a compressor, but Robin knocks out the
operator before any harm can come to "Wonder Chick".
Elsewhere on the battlefield, things begin turn against the Titans. "What are you doing, Mr. Big? That's my trap for catching trespassers!" asks Scrounge, as Mr. Big activates a device that causes the Titans to be inexplicably pulled to and pinned to a large pile of junk.
Ah, the Silver Age. When even junkyard owners could come up with
super-scientific booby traps.
(Incidentally, the attractive force of this "junk tree" seems to pull to itself the victim's... uh... rear end. Or at least, that's the way it looks from the shot of Wonder Girl hitting it.)
With the Titans thus incapacitated, it is left to Tiny Tom to fight the good fight. With a cry of "You fink! I'll make you free the Titans!", the plucky lad charges at the gangsters, giving one a good headbutt. That's just one less blow landed than Robin (the apprentice to the World's Foremost Fighting Force) up to this point; a whole two less than Aqualad (he of the muscles forged in the pressures of the deepest ocean); and one more than either Kid Flash or Wonder Girl, neither of whom have gotten a single lick in yet. Thus upstaged by a kid in a wheelchair: this was not the Teen Titans' finest hour.
But, like them (although a good deal more pardonably), Tiny Tom is
no match for the recidivist recycler. As one of his goons grabs the
struggling lad, the others kick his wheelchair into scrap metal.
The sight of the thugs thus abusing young Tom has an unexpected
(well, sort of... for those three readers who are utterly unfamiliar with
the plot of A CHRISTMAS CAROL, due to living in complete isolation from western civilization their entire lives) effect on Scrounge.
In short: his heart grows three sizes that day. (Fine. It's a
mixed reference. Go ahead and send me angry e-mail, if you must.)
"You're not turning on anything, because I'm turning you off! And
that's no humbug, Mr. Big," announces Scrounge, as he smashes the machine that holds the Titans as helplessly squirming captives. The Teen Titans, for the record, have now been shown up by both a crippled kid AND a septuagenarian; the latter whom (until now) had been one of the villains of the piece.
The freed Titans make short work of the villains at this point
(although if they hadn't, I'm sure Spider-Man's Aunt May could have given them a hand); and all that remains is some exposition from Scrounge about how he's a changed man.
To demonstrate, he uses Mr. Big's Junk Transformer to turn the
scraps of Tiny Tom's old manual wheelchair into a brand new electric
one.
Yes, that's right: this miraculous device of Mr. Big's not only repairs junk with no needed labour, and no resulting waste or pollution; but it makes the things better than they were before. This guy deserves a bloody Nobel Prize! (Betcha the damn thing is solar powered, too.)
And our story closes on a group shot of the Titans, Scrounge, Bob
Ratchet (God knows where he came from), and Tiny Tom, standing around and bantering in that peculiar faux slang this title was renowned -- and reviled -- for, as Tiny Tom utters those immortal final words (more or less): "Best wishes to all -- for a swinging and groovy new year... and bless us, everyone!"
Immediately after that, of course, the Teen Titans beat Scrounge
to a bloody pulp. Because nobody -- but nobody -- muscles in on thhe wheelchair manufacturers' turf.
NIC'S PIX AND NIX: Page One
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