Running on Empty

The constant drumming of rain on the windows woke Bart Allen out of a sound sleep.

He glanced at the clock: 6:37.

On a Saturday, too.

Oh, man, he thought, so much for mini-golf. And after I’ve been practicing all week . . .

Well, he could do one of two things:

1. Lie in bed for an hour and whatever until the cartoons came on.

2. Get up, eat, and play some games until the cartoons came on.



Hmmmmm . . .



Then again, didn’t the comic-book store open early on weekends?

He dashed off in a hurry.

Within seconds he was back. Not that early, I guess.


He was about to pop in Death Squad 2000 when he heard sirens outside. Lots of them. He raced to the window and looked out. Several police cars, a fire engine, and an ambulance all roared by, heading west.

Something big was going on.

He put on his costume and rushed off to help.


Unfortunately he rushed off too fast and kept outrunning the emergency vehicles. While waiting for them to catch up, he would run back to the comic store to see if it was open yet. Finally (seemed like forever), he could see the thick black smoke rising into the sky and didn’t need to wait for those slow pokes.

When he saw what was on fire, he nearly died. The only store in the area that sold anything Pokemon-related had gone up in flames! Now how would he complete his collection?

Bart remembered what Max and Helen and Rolly and Evil Eye and Wade and Mike and Preston and Carol and Robin and Superboy and Wonder Girl and Arrowette and even Secret and all his teachers and his cousin Wally and even Katchoo who he barely knows said about Pokemon . . .it was evil and a bad habit.

Then Bart wondered why . . . for a whole three seconds.



So lost was Bart in his reverie that he didn’t notice . . .

He was slowly sinking into the pavement.



“AAAAIGGGHHH!” Bart vibrated himself free, only to find . . .

Absolutely nothing was wrong.

Or was it?



After one last trip to the comic-book store (which was still closed), Bart headed home . . .

But it wasn’t there anymore!

Huh? What’s going on? How could his house just suddenly disappear?

And then something even stranger happened.



He turned green.

All over.

Not uniformly, either—in spots.

What the--? How could this happen? What could cause these green spots all over—?

And then he noticed the upturned bucket of green paint on the sidewalk.

Oh.



Then Impulse heard a high-pitched whistling noise. It sounded like when something in a cartoon was falling from a great height. He looked up and saw . . .

A highly intelligent and very handsome Toaster descending upon him from the sky.

(I begged them not to throw me out the airlock, but would they listen? NOOOOOOO! Smegheads!)

The toaster hit Impulse in the head. Fortunately, due to Bart’s abundance of hair, neither he nor the toaster was seriously hurt.

Bart picked up the toaster. This is interesting, he thought. Maybe I’ll take it home with me.

He started home as usual—

But the road was blocked!



Just then the Toaster spoke up. “This isn’t your reality.”

“WHAAAAA?”

“No, don’t drop me!”

Fortunately Bart caught the toaster before it hit the pavement again.

“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, you’ve been pulled into an alternate reality that is the opposite of your own. For example—“

“OH NO!” Bart exclaimed. “Not that Hypertime thing I’ve heard of! They say it’s really bad!”

“As I was saying,”the toaster replied, “this reality is the opposite of your own. Here you never existed because—“

But Bart never heard the reason why he didn’t exist here. He saw something that took his attention away.

The toaster was miffed.

“WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION?!!” the toaster shouted in agitation.

But still Bart paid no attention. He was busy looking at some kids terrorizing a puppy. He threw the toaster at them.

“WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!” said the toaster.

Unfortunately Impulse was not known for his aim, and the toaster missed the kids by a mile and clattered into the street. The noise, however, was enough to distract them, and the puppy got free and ran away.



Then everything whooshed around him . . . .



Whaaaaaaa?

It didn’t make sense!

The whole world was made of cheese!

Should he try a piece? He was really hungry. (Bart was always hungry.)

“Hey! What are you doing?” the Toaster said.



Suddenly a large brick building fell on the toaster, silencing it forever more.



As usual, Bart hardly noticed. But the toaster’s demise was unfortunate, since it had been about to fill Impulse in on information crucial to his survival.

Oh well.

So Impulse went on his way, unaware that his very existence was at stake . . .



As the Joker loaded a semiautomatic rifle, took aim . . .



Bart felt something whoosh by him just as he heard the crack of the gun. He raced off and caught the bullets before they could hurt someone.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said to the Joker. “Here’s your bullets back.”



“See if you can outrun these bullets,” the Joker said, and fired point blank. Five times.

The boy never moved from his spot, but when the smoke cleared he was standing there unharmed.

“WHAT? How could—there’s no way I could miss at this range!”

“You didn’t, “ said Impulse. “I just vibrated and let the bullets pass through me.”

And while he was talking, he took the gun away.



Suddenly he was surrounded by cops, all with their guns drawn.

“BART ALLEN,” the lead cop boomed, “PUT THE GUN DOWN AND BACK AWAY OR WE’LL SHOOT!”

Impulse didn’t even have time to wonder how they knew his supposedly secret identity. He took off for home before the cop had finished his sentence.

But home wasn’t there, just this big brick building.

So Bart went looking for help.

But someone else found him first.

It was . . . the Joker!



“Didn’t I just get rid of you?” Bart asked.

The Joker never answered, or if he did, Bart couldn’t hear him. All he could hear was this strange noise. It sounded like . . .



His alarm clock going off.

“Bart! Time to get up for school!” Max called out to him.

Bart rolled over and sighed. “Back to reality.”