Captain Phallic

Arizona Daily Wildcat Ezekiel Buchheit

I see the breakdown of the team as such: It stars Captain Phallic!, a large, violent man who tries first to resolve every problem with well-thought-out logic and mediation skills and then, when this fails, relies on his 350-pound physique and many large guns to remove the knee caps of said problem.

Captain Phallic's powers include the ability to move his joints while under the control of his anatomically impossible frame, to shoot incredibly large-caliber pistols, and to generally look good on a Burger King glass. His sidekicks are Owl Woman, affectionately called "Hooters" by the team, and a black man by the name of Tyrone, or, as the team calls him, "Token."

Each of the other member have their own superpowers. Hooters somehow manages to support triple-P breasts on a 90-pound athletic frame without any back problems whatsoever. She can also fit this body into a suit that she carries around in a dental floss box. Token is an ex-football player who does stuff. I'm not sure what stuff he does exactly, but if it gets me the desirable demographic, I'm sure he will show up from time to time.

To keep from confusing the average comic reader, or complicating their already too stressful life, each issue of Captain Phallic will follow the same basic outline. Here's issue #1:

Captain Phallic, deep inside his secret hidden fortress of secretness, sits in view of six thousand monitors, breaking every privacy law ever instated. In walks Owl Woman.

C.P.: Ah, Hooters, good to see you on this day, despite the fact that evil still reigns. And once again, I see you have forgotten to clothe yourself.

O.W. : So I have. I will do so immediately, but first allow me to engage in many sultry posses for the next several frames.

C.P: So be it.

Suddenly an alarm goes off and the monitors, which have until now been monitoring YMCA locker rooms and isolated woodland areas, all display the same picture.

C.P.: Oh lord Gonorrhea, son of Trojan, it is my worst enemy of all time, the evil Dr. Satan!

T.: What should we do?

C.P.: To the prostate jet!

The team leaps into their powerful government-radar-avoiding jet and flies quickly to the scene of the emergency, a day care center just outside of Toledo, Ohio.

Dr. S.: What the hell is your problem, Captain Phallic? I'm spending time with my kid. Give me a break.

C.P.: Your evil scheme will never work, Dr. Satan! Come quietly or I will be forced to use weapons often associated with strip mining in order to stop your nefarious scheme!

Dr. S.: Just let me play a damn game of ball with my kid.

O.W.: He isn't listening, sir.

C.P.: You're right, all this talk tires me. Now, Dr. Satan, prepare to pay for your crimes!

Dr. S.: What the fu-

The next 27 pages are filled with scenes of unimaginable violence. It ends with Dr. Satan and his child on gurneys waiting for the ambulance helicopter to pick them up.

C.P.: Evil is vanquished again! HA HA HA! And I see that you somehow tore your suit off during that battle, Hooters.

O.W.: Yes and the world is now safe for all the good people.

So you can see the possibilities for growth (and here I mean the kind that applies to my wallet) in this comic. There will be Captain Phallic t-shirts, mugs, cars and, of course, the Captain Phallic prophylactic and marital aid line. So please buy my comic and enable me, and I promise the next article will be better. I had to write this one sober.

Ezekiel Buchheit is a freshman majoring in English. His column, "I Like Biscuits," appears every Monday. We don't know what that title is supposed to mean.