But I already ended the Robin War by reading Robin War #2!
An old man in a dusty cowboy hat sits on a park bench. So skinny and frail, his dusty jacket and faded jeans hang off him like he were a wire hanger. He seems sort of folded up on himself as he mutters and spits. He glances up for a second, tears plainly seen streaking down his face. "I miss mah fuckin' horse," he mutters. "Fif'een years she been with me. Going where I gone. Nuzzling mah shoulder when I cain't hardly stand ta look mahself in the mirror. Fuck. Fuckin' miss her, is all." He spits and scuffs his boot across the pavement in front him, tracing some kind of symbol only he recognizes. "It's jus' I ain't got room in mah life for many people, see? So she was important. So important. My bes' friend, I reckon. Might seem sad to some but then mos' persons let lotsa other persons inta their life. I ain't never been lonely nor needed nobody much, reckon. She were all I need, I guess." He spits again and reaches his right hand across his midsection to scratch somewhere beneath the layers of dust and clothes. "Trail jus' don't have the allure it use ta, ya know? It were already tough goin' ever' day even with her by my side, leadin' me on cause she always knowed there be good grass somewheres up ahead. Even if I doubtin' it, she never did. Cause dere always were. Never fail. But what was there ever fer me, see? I never thought to look. Where were I goin' aside from gettin' my horse ta the nex' green patch? I jus' got no more reason ta move on. At leastways, I got no hurry, I reckon. The trail always gonna be temptin' me but it jus' ain't never gonna be the same. And I ain't got no reason to fuckin' hurry, see?" He pauses and looks down as his hands seem to wrestle with each other. He sniffs and his body hitches and he begins to sob.
"It jus' ain't fuckin' right. What I'da gave fer jus' a another year, mayhap. Another few miles. Another few pastures. What good am I now without my best friend?" He wipes at his face and the dirt and dust on his hands turns dark and muddy. He beats his hands against his jeans a bit and coughs from the cloud of unsettled dust. "Well, Francis, better get on, I guess. Cain't sit hyar feelin' sorry fer my old bones forever, hunh? You've lost horses afore, ya know ya did." He reaches out to grip the armrest and begins to pull himself up to a standing position. He wobbles uncertainly for a few seconds before finally standing as erect as he'll ever be. A short and surprising laugh scratches out of his throat and he says, "Mayhap, mayhap. But never lost a horse like that one. Soulmate, I s'pect. Ha! Gettin' too fuckin' sentimental in my old age." He glances up and looks you right in the eye. "It's been good, ya know? Sharin' the trail with you. Real good. But I think we outta part company hyar. I jus'...well, I jus'...I guess my heart's jus' too broke to keep on this hyar trail. Gonna find a new way, reckon. You take care, see?" He smiles, you think, then turns and totters away down the path. He stops after a few feet and pats the pocket on his beige duster while mumbling something incomprehensible. He reaches into the pocket, snorts, and tosses a carrot to the side of the path before lighting out for a new territory.
Teen Titans #15 Rating: You know how I feel about this comic book. It's awful. Anyway, that's about all I've got in me. I want to thank everybody who read these commentaries and understood how truly not serious any of it was. For those who didn't get the joke, fuck off. Kidding! No, I'm not. Seriously, fuck off. I'll still be around reading comics and posting stupid panels to Tumblr, I'm sure. But I've got other shit to do and it's time to just let this project go. Thanks for commenting, commenters! And a special thanks to Artya, wherever he wound up, for...well, for whatever. Being the first, I guess.
For Judas. Thanks for hanging out with me while I read comics, buddy!