Maybe the net's working on me, but I can't remember anything in this entire thing making sense. Especially Absent-Minded Mac's weapon. Not the net. The net was pretty lame, but look at what he's attacking the hulk with. It's one of those serving spoons that's like a big pair of scissors. That's the Incredible Hulk, not a salad.|
Glub. What do the cops do in this city?
"hhkk! We've got a report of a little man in a wizard robe or perhaps some kind of bad gown tieing a huge net to rooftops on the southside. He's moving north and unrolling the net as he goes. Request procedural assistance. Over."
"Aah, this is dispatch. We've also had several reports of a giant net, metahuman levels of fruitiness, and some net-caused sky blockage down there. It's probably just a birdwatching nutjob or a corporate protest. We need you back at the station for that prostitute sting. Dress sexy, dispatch out."
These mean old bastards keep imposing their problems on all of us, dig? Making everyone all fool-crazy like himself with his big net. Look, brother, I have a bad headband. A really, really bad headband. It's made out of tin foil and it has a point in the middle pointing at my nose. And I don't build no devices to force everyone in the city to suffer through the same headband. I got some GOD damn self respect. Let me get real for a minute. Sometimes... sometimes, it's the ugly things we wrap around our heads that make us special, man.
Doom appreciates an elaborate plan to wipe the memory from a city's imbeciles. And he appreciates the hilarious irony of combating the Hulk with two spoons. Such are the things Doom appreciates. Also tiny spoons, flavored coffee, and reading his secret dream journal to close friends or battle androids.