Friday, December 26, 2008

A new twist on an old kick in the pants.

Captain Goldensword has had his mind blown. And that is not easy to do, considering that one of my superpowers is an anti-blowing force field that surrounds my abnormally large brain. It would be understandable for you to be skeptical - do not fear - I understand that my perfectly proportioned cranium does not look as though it houses an abnormally large brain. No my friends, my brain, in fact, resides mainly in an alternate dimension where small is large and large is small, so when I say that my brain is large, what I really mean is that is large in a small dimension that has inverted laws of large-ness. Do you see?

But I digress.

The reason that I am bloggering even though it is not December 21st, is that the very group of superheroes that once rejected my application for super-partnership has hired my SI to do some light administrative work on the weekends. And so I have to keep my secret identity secret from heroes whose secret identities I am now privy to, while at the same time, hiding the fact that I am a formidable crimefighter as well. Can you now appreciate the mind-blowiness of the whole situation?

I have signed a legally binding waiver that prohibits me from revealing which association of superheroes I am now affiliated with, but suffice it to say that their name rhymes with 'Fruper-sends'. The advantages of my employment are many, but perhaps the most advantageous advantage is that, whilst filing expenditure reports from their various battles with the forces of evil, I have access to a wide variety of personal information for most major super-villians. Some of the more astound-inating tidbits are learning what these villian's religious affiliations are, their respective blood types, and their greatest pet peeves. So if, say, the Complainiac is giving blood at St. Jame's annual Easter blood drive, I will know that the best way to thwart whatever evil she is secretly planning would be to crash in through the stained glass window and scrape my fingernails across a blackboard.

So thanks to the Sup... er, I mean 'Frupersends', I shall soon take the smiting of evil to entirely new level of righteous sneakiness.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

The missing of the celebration that could have been if it hadn't been missed.


Captain Goldensword has missed his spectacular re-emergence into the land of bloggering by a scant half-hour. It was supposed to be this awe-inspiring and triumphant thing and there were going to be balloons and pigeons released and spaggheti fountains, but alas, I was too late.

Like many of you, I was engaged in a mortal combat with a foe that is known to all for horrific and widespread acts of carnage: Old Man Winter. And I am sad to report, Captain Goldensword has had his golden hot pants handed to him on a platter of ice. Literally. Old Man Winter stripped them off with some sort of forbidden ninja death-move, and whilst I was covering the Golden jewels, he froze my Golden hot pants onto a platter of ice. Which he promptly handed to me and went off laughing into the wintery night.

It took a great deal of tugging and heaving and freezing his Golden knockers off, but Captain Goldensword did eventually prevail against the platter of ice (bringing my overall battle stats for the night to one-and-one). Sadly, I was late for my intronet re-introduction-ment. Did I mention that we'd had pigeons?

So as I had begun to say but didn't actually get the chance to elaborate on but will now that I have started an appropriate sentence: if you'll notice the time-stamps on Captain Goldensword's previous two posts, you'll see that they occurred exactly one year apart. To the day. Try not to be too incredibly impressed, citizen: we superheroes tend to be dramatic like that.

"Golly Captain Goldensword", you might ask, "what the heck ya been doing all year, any-such-a-ways?"

To which I might respond, "Fighting evil, as always, good citizen... fighting evil. As always."

(Although I must secretly confess with secret-ey parenthesis that my SI has not been so consistant this year - he has been subjected to repeated, bowel-trembling experiences in which he has been fired by teenagers with hair nets and oozing acne)

Your next question might be, "So why ain'tcha been bloggin, Cap?"

I would respond, firstly, with an insistance that you refer to me by my full name, Captain Goldensword, so as not to besmirch any of the glory in which I am continually surrounded, and then secondly, I would change the subject along the lines of, "Sorry, citizen, but I must away... duty calls, and I, Captain Goldensword, must answer the proverbial phone - before duty gets transferred to voicemail."

And then I would fly away, being certain to offer you a good view of my sculpted, Golden cheeks.

Friday, December 21, 2007


exactly one year to the day. can't talk about it now, though. type more later -- when I am not surrounded by the ears of evil who will detect the sound of my computerey keys clacking. . .

oh, and so you understand, italics denotes whispering. . .

Thursday, December 21, 2006

...I hope someone gets this psychic message... need other superheroes... caught in fiendish dreamscape... stop... the Nightmarian... spaghetti ensnaring my limbs... meatballs... pummeling my torso... psychic energy fading...........

Monday, December 18, 2006

Crimefighting Product Review (CPR #1)

Welcome to a new feature on Captain Goldensword's blog, Crimefighting Product Reviews, or CPR. It occurs to me that if I use a certain device or product in my constant battle against Evil, I should review it here, to let other superheroes know how useful it was, or un-useful, if that should be the case. If I device or product fails me in battle, and I am thusly trounced by some scum-sucking villian, that information should also be passed on to the crimefighting community.

This morning I am reviewing Smacme's new wrist-mounted plasma cannon, the Penetrator mark II. I used this weapon in a recent battle I had with Dre-tap-da-mon, (the dreaded Tap-dance Monster) and overall, I found it very handy and effective. It's lightweight, packs a solid punch, and is as easy to aim as pointing your finger. There were only a few drawbacks, and they had more to do with stowage than anything else. It takes upwards of twenty minutes to strap it on your wrist properly, and have it comfortably wired to the power source on your utility belt (I refuse to call it 'trouser supporting gadget array', Batman, sorry, nice try though). And then, since it is triggered by certain hand and finger movements, I found it sometimes discharging accidentaly in non-combat settings like in the boys bathroom at the local elementary school where I was giving a short speech regarding the superiority of spaghetti to other forms of pasta. I had my index finger in the vicinity of the center of my face, the reason is unimportant, but after flexing it just so, the Penetrator fired and nearly took the top of my head off.

So. It would be impractical to carry it around in the pocket of your tights until you're faced with an enemy of righteousness - it would simply take too long to set up, and by then, Evil will have you schooled. One is simply forced to wear it at all times, and just be cognizant of its fire-power and hair-trigger. Overall, I enjoy my Penetrator mark II wrist-mounted plasma cannon, and I intend to use it for years to come in my constant battle to thwart the forces of Evil.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

NOTSAD observance

I received an email over the weekend that was annotated with the names of all known supervillians. It seems they've declared today 'National Overtly Tempermental Supervillian Appreciation Day' or 'NOTSAD'. In honor of the occasion, they've decided to take the weekend to relax and bathe in coconut milk near the bases of active volcanos. They wanted me and the other superheroes to know that if we found them such, we should not try to engage them in combat or otherwise molest them in any way, because it is their weekend off in honor of their most revered holiday.

Captain Goldensword respects this. I say, 'take your well-deserved rest, worthy adversaries, but know this, that when the weekend is over, the smiting of evildoers will reconvene with vigorous vigor.'

This does however gives me an opportunity to get my room clean like mother keeps nagging me to do.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Captain Goldensword has lost his first battle - but not the war

Last evening, after a tough day of harvesting blackheads from sheep for medical research, I found myself in combat against a foe I cannot ever possibly hope to defeat. The difficulty has nothing to do with the respective power of the villian, but in their gender.

Yes, friends of righteousness, Captain Goldensword was forced to battle a woman.

She is called 'The Complainiac', and her she has the power to sap the strength and will to live from any man with the shrill sonic waves produced by her mutated larynx. I ran afoul of her when I foiled her plot to doubly and triply reuse coupons to rack up discounts of evil and insane proportions. The duel commenced, she attacked with grace and skill, I defended with grace and skill, but that's the extent of the progression of the fight. I simply could not bring myself to strike her - mother had instilled in me from a young age that it was completely wrong to hit girls, even if they deserved it.

I came close to snapping and letting myself pummel the Complainiac when she said that my tights were gay and the way they spread my buttocks was sickening, but I somehow managed to control myself. I am wondering if restraint isn't another one of my superpowers. Ultimately, I was crushed beneath the force of her voice, and my strength failed me. I lay on the ground, writhing from pain of both an emotional and physical nature, and watched her fly away with the Ronald McDonald jewel. In the dark hours that followed my defeat at the hands of the Complainiac, I found myself plagued with a troubling thought that I could not escape. Although she was now my sworn enemy, my mind insisted on picturing her in an apron, preparing spaghetti, and my salivary glands produced spittle as though they were about to consume the imaginary spaghetti.

I should not have such thoughts concerning my enemies. But in my imagination, her spaghetti looked really really good.