Disclaimers: The characters in the story belong to either Marvel Comics or Rob Liefield, with the exception of Rob Liefield, whose soul belongs to the Devil. Just kidding. Rob Liefield belongs to himself and is represented here without permission. This story is in no way meant to slander or harm Mr. Liefield. He has done enough of that to himself without my help. Just about everything else belongs to the author.

"Rob's Bane", by M.K.Davis

written 10-30-99

Rob Liefield sat serenely in his den, leisurely picking his nose. He was comfy in his favorite "Cable" pajamas, and wore his Image ballcap backwards--not to be trendy, but as a private protest. His arm twisted and contorted as he sought the deeper treasures that were yet unexcavated. They resisted him, but damn if he wasn't going to give it the old college try.

An unexpected knock on the door caused him to nearly insert his nasal drill up to the elbow. His Zima sloshed clumsily out of his souvenir mug from Marvel Super Hero Island in Orlando.

"Sonofa-- who could that be?" He asked his life-sized inflatable replica of Domino, but if she knew, she wasn't telling.

His "Feral" slippers leapfrogged, left, right, left, right, as he plodded to the door, stopping only to check his reflection in the funhouse mirror that was his primary reference for human anatomy. The cute, smallish face of a familiar red-haired Scot greeted him.

"Well, if it isn't Mutate 490! Come to beg me for your own series, I hope?"

"No," replied Rahne. "I just wanted to meet the man who helped to destroy one of the best comics ever made. A buffoon who gets far too much credit for his atrocious drawings."

She shifted into her transitional form and clawed out the front of Rob's throat. Bits of exaggerated flesh and blood sprayed the threshold.

"Hell's Bells!" the hole in his neck shouted.

"I'm not done," she blurted. "I've already been to see Louise Simonson. I can forgive her for her part, because she gave me some wonderful times. But she never should have let a newbie like you have so much influence on her book. She'll have to work that off. But you..."

She dug her claws into his abdomen and groped around, searching for his entrails. She laid hold of an intestine and pulled it out. Aiming it like a garden hose, she squirted it's foul contents onto Rob's face.

"That's for making me kiss Rictor," she snarled. "I mean, Lila and Doug were finally out of the way, and who do you have me kiss? Not Sam, but Rictor. RICTOR! I'd sooner kiss a rectum! Did you even bother to read the first 85 issues?"

She dropped him and stood with one foot on his chest.

"And what the heck is up with those breasts? They're huge! Who did you think you were drawing?"

She picked him up and tossed him into his swimming pool, which she had previously stocked with ravenous pirhanas. Her green eyes sparkled as she watched the water gradually cloud into a murky red.

"Now that's what I call a Deadpool," she snickered.

~finis~