I’m really not sure I can apologize enough for this drivel. Blame the car ahead of me this morning and its occupant.

Justice Man opens his eyes on another day full of deeds to be done, foul fiends to foil, and bullet-proof spandex. Justice Man loves spandex. He even sleeps…but, where are his spandex jammies? Justice Man rolls onto his tummy, suddenly alert. He scans the tile floor of the kitchen. No supervixens, no probing aliens…in short, no reason why the spandex Justice Jammies should not be in evidence. Wait, why is he in the kitchen? Why is he on the floor?

He leaps to his paws and sniffs the air nervously, and starts as he hears a guttural whine, a sound of animal distress. It’s coming from…from him! From Justice Man! He looks down, and realizes the truth. Reflected in the glossy black tile of the spacious kitchen is the fluffy gray and white form of Justice Pooch. He kneels to the tile with another whine, and sniffs his own reflection.

Now he remembers. This happens every morning. Is it sleep restoring some measure of function to the Justice Mind? Or is this a further torment devised by the Sinister Sparkler, the recidivous reprobate in whose shining modern kitchen he muses, the wizardous wretch that condemned him to this frivolous form!? Is he condemned to live out his life this way, in dog-years, remembering the spandex-swathed splendor of Justice Man each morning, only to retreat into brutish idiocy by noon? No!

Off he races, his claws tapping on the tiles, his silky spray of tail wagging at the thought of action. He sprints across the deep pile rug of the living room and comes to a halt. The bedroom door! Behind this portal his enemy lies in luxurious languor!

Come out, Sparkler! Come out and fight! “Yip! Yip YIP yipyipyip!”

Vague stirrings from behind the door.

Arise, foul beast! Though you may have changed my form, my heart is a hero’s and I can best you any day! Come out and fight like a man! “Yip YIPIPIPIPROOOO!”

No sound. No response. Justice Man collapses slowly to the berber like a small fuzzy balloon, pricked by the knowledge of his own powerlessness. What is he, anyway? A Mi-Ki? A Malti-Poo? What can he avail against this man? He curls into a ball of misery and shrouds his shame with his draping tail.

The door opens, but he doesn’t stir. “Good morning, Justy,” comes the voice of the Sparkler, and then the murderous madman is upon him, scritching his head, petting him and flopping his silky ears! Despite himself, Justice Man feels…better. The warmth of the insidious incorrigible’s affection spreads over his tiny fluttering heart, and he finds his tail wagging helplessly.

No! he barks, and runs off to cower under the dining room table while the Mast—while the horrible hellion makes his Cream of Wheat. He works up all his fear and hatred, and manages to nip the dastardly devil on one argyled ankle before he is picked up and carried to the dusty grey Mercedes.

“You really must behave yourself, Justy,” says the nefarious nabob, as he drops Justice Man onto the passenger seat and the little hero rebelliously bounds into the back seat.

The car starts, and Justice Man trembles involuntarily at the sound, the tremor - like when the Galactic Cyberworms tried to devour the core of the Earth! - but soon his quailing ceases, and he is himself again. He leaps to the back window and surveys his surroundings, the peaceful streets and buildings that pass him by. They are going to the Sparkler’s business—he is a villain consultant now that he is a villain emeritus. Who knows what massive misdeeds may be managed and manufactured this day? Who knows what burgeoning brigand might be coddled and coached by this consulting cur? Justice Man raises his tail high, as if to block the rear-view and trick the driver into some fatal error. Yes, that’s it! He can crash the car and prevent this pernicious poisonous pirate from perpetually plaguing the planet! He will spring to the back of the driver’s seat and plunge his teeth into the sinful scourge’s hand! He will wrench the steering wheel over with all his tiny weight! He will sacrifice his life by interposing himself between the brake and the floor! His tiny bones will be the end of this malificent marauder!

Justice Man…smells something. He sniffs the air, then the sun-faded plush under his feet. Behind the left headrest, yes…right there. It’s a doggie treat, stale but still enticing. Yes! He pushed it down there as part of an ingenious plan to…he fastens his tiny teeth onto the treat and pulls it loose. Yes, this milk-bone was the keystone of an elaborate…crunch snorfle...Really, being squashed is far less pleasant than the alternative…slurp munch...there’s the injustice of cats, very small cats, to be considered…CRUNCH slobber slobber...and lonely toy poodles like that hot little number next door. Justice Man settles down in the sun with half the milk-bone between his delicately fringed paws. He is happy and aimless, trickling between pleasant reflections. He is soft and cuddly and mindless. He is Justy. At least…until tomorrow morning.