Nice, Spidey. When you're ditching a date with your girlfriend, you shut her up by throwing her a snack. I'm not sure if Hostess treats work as well on girlfriends as they do on muscled humanoids, though. In fact, it might do more harm than good.
Peter: "Here, harpy slut: cup cakes. But stop at one. Just because there's a second one in that pack doesn't mean your stupid cow mouth gets to eat it. I'll be back when I'm done beating up Man Mountain Marko as Spider-Ma--- I mean, when I buy milk as Spider-Ma--- when I buy milk as Peter Parker."
Hey, Mary Jane. How about waiting until the giant man is done killing the shit out of pedestrians on your sidewalk before you start ragging on your boyfriend's character flaws. Glub. Enjoy your cup cake, bitch.
Hey. I'm Power Man, he's Mr. Fish, and that's Dr. Doom. At best, our names are products of fetal alcohol syndrome. And we're still all glad our names ain't no "Man Mountain Marko." That name is half porno/half retard, and if you know shit about mathematations, those are the two worst halves that can possibly come together.
Doom fears little. He has faced off against cosmic universes made flesh and infinitely ancient dieties using only a suit pieced together from pans and a green tablecloth. But Doom is not about to rely on a cupcake to be the foundation of his side of an argument with his girlfriend. There is nothing on Earth or in space that would lead so quickly to death. Ha ha ha, women love to menstruate while men say things about the Super Bowl!