Popular comic book hero feels left out
Dear Diary,
This week has, without a doubt, been the hardest seven days of my life. With Halloween rolling around, I go to Party City just for kicks, just to see that all of the Superman, Batman and Iron Man costumes are sold out. Tears roll along through my endless facial crevices when I see that I’m not even a costume option. As I exit the store in a dramatically reflective manner, Michelle Branch blares through my head, and I stomp to my car. As I climb into the front seat of the Chin-Mobile, I resume a classic fetal position. Empty feelings of nothingness consume my thoughts. I am a “nobody,” with an inexplicably buff chin and a red jumpsuit.
I presume my loss of fame is directly correlated to Timmy’s downhill spiral, since he had played a role in my hit television show. Everybody stopped paying attention to Timmy once he started bumming around with other washed-up child actors like Macaulay Culkin and the entire cast of Full House. I guess everyone assumed that I went with him to this ambiguously meth-filled “dark side.” I, however, am no Jodie Sweetin. I am an Olsen twin: though I am often lost and forgotten in an oversized fur coat made for three homeless men, I am still somehow alive and kicking.
The most unbelievable part of all of this is that nobody realizes that to this day, my chin is still constantly saving cats from trees and fighting crime. It obviously isn’t Jay Leno using his giant chin to save the world; he’s too busy laughing at crying children and eating puppies for lunch. My chin runs circles around his. It isn’t Sarah Jessica Parker, either. She’s too busy getting laughed at by Perez Hilton and making horrific sequels to Sex and the City. The truth is, the world would be in turmoil without my giant chin. My talents simply go unnoticed.
On another note, who even cares about Superman? He is a full-grown man prancing around in blue tights and red panties. Or Batman? Same deal, wearing black and yellow, and wings. And Iron Man? I heard he orders Pumpkin Spice Lattes at Starbucks. And that’s just super lame, who does that?
Anyways, after a week full of brooding and Avril Lavigne (“Let Go” era), I have decided that I am officially retiring the chin’s talent. That’s right. Society won’t like it when I’m gone. I, however, have bought a full-time home in Honolulu, with a backyard pool just for my chin. What will society do when their cats get stuck in a tree? (I am really not at all sure as to how cartoon cats get stuck in trees so often?) Anyways, everybody will be sorry. They will all miss the chin; the chin’s wrath doesn’t shine until it’s GONE.
And I won’t miss anybody at all. I will be drinking coconut water and rum out of a martini glass with a small, novelty-drink umbrella. My chin will have it’s own novelty- drink umbrella as well.
Everyone shall prepare for utter, chinless chaos. Ta-ta for now.
-The (now retired) Crimson Chin
Lizzy Rosenberg is a junior integrated marketing communications major who awaits the return of Adam West’s Catman. Email her at [email protected]