I get the Maxx. He sees a world around himself that may or may not be real. Most of the time, this leaves him disoriented and confused. Yet he pushes forward heroically. I’m diagnosed as Schizoaffective. (Truth be told, I probably fall under a dozen different categories. I think my shrinks over the years just shrugged, picked the biggie, and went with it.) Essentially, I see and hear things that aren’t there and have bipolar-like mood swings. But unlike the Maxx, I need six different pills a day to feel slightly “heroic” about my condition. Yeah. It’s just lovely. I think that’s why I’ve always identified with this character. Well, enough of the personal stuff. The Maxx is a truly unique character. Fascinating and mysterious. This left the everyday people of the world open to speculation about this strange being with claws and a tooth-filled mask. Never were these theories more described in detail than in this special, “The Maxx” #1/2. Enjoy, Unspokenites!
On the stoop of an old apartment building, three people sit. Two of them are young boys. The last is a nameless bum. One boy begins talking as if he were already in mid-conversation from earlier. He states that he believes that this new super-powered being in the city is in actuality a psychotic monster. The smaller boy disagrees. His mother told him that he was surely a working-class hero that dispenses “maximum justice”. Hence the name, the Maxx. (Ah. I’m reminded of debates such as this with my younger brother when were kids. Only a few ended in the loss of innocent bystander life.)
To this, the older boy replies that this Maxx caused considerable damage to a neighborhood deli by throwing a bus through the large front window. How was that possibly heroic? The younger of the two simply retorts that he was throwing the bus at a mugger. Surely this was more important than a silly deli window. The inevitable reply was yet another hypothesis as to the Maxx’s origins. Maybe he was an alien avenger, or an artificial being with steel bones? (Wow. These kids are really reaching now. Whoever heard of an alien superhero or one experimented on in a lab with metal bones of all things? Cough…..Superman and Wolverine…..clears throat.)
Now, the bum suddenly decides that he might just add to this heated debate. He begins by saying that he believes that the Maxx is really just an average joe. A man with a go-nowhere job and a sparsely furnished, tiny apartment. Maybe this man found a mask one day by happenstance and when he tried it on, it seemed as if lightning struck his brain. He then awoke in a place similar to Australia but also with a feel like it was the dawn of time. Here he was strong. Powerful. He had on a strange costume and had gained claws by thrusting his hands into bubbling volcanic rock. (This is the point where, if these were smart kids, they’d slowly back away, go inside, and rot their brains with online gaming. Oh wait! This was the 90’s! I guess these kids would actually use their imaginations. Sick burn!)

The children disagree with this rather depressing and strange scenario. Surely the hero is rich and posesses an array of expensive gadgets and vehicles. Or perhaps he rises from the grave every night to fight crime from the safety of the sewers and consumes stolen linguine. (Wait. What? This may be the only time I will ever read a comic with the words “stolen linguine” in the dialogue for the rest of my life! I mean, hopefully not.) The bum admits that both of these are interesting ideas. But he thinks the Maxx is just another homeless bum, living in the dumpsters. He can’t hold down a job, has no real friends, and is never sure what’s real or not. He tries to do good, but mostly he just makes situations worse.
But before the boys can put up much more of a verbal defense, they’re interrupted by the approaching neighborhood scourge they’ve dubbed “Crackhead” Jerry. (Sounds like a grossly misunderstood, pillar of the community. Just because the guy has an unfortunate injury to his head. Jeez!) Jerry wanders over to them and comes to a halt. With cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, he asks if the children have anything for him. Knowing that Jerry means money, both boys reply that they’re broke. But suddenly, the youngest of them leaps from the step, balls up his small fists, and proclaims that they won’t be bullied any longer! The Maxx wouldn’t tolerate this! Slightly amused, Jerry hints that he may just have a knife. He knows where they sleep. But before he can utter another venomous threat, he sees the large bum rise behind the boys. The man pulls off an oversized glove, revealing a large razor-sharp claw! “Crackhead” Jerry runs off in terror!

The glove is slid back into place before the two celebrating boys turn, ecstatic at their victory. That’s when the mother of the two kids calls to them to come inside. Their dinner is ready and it’s their favorite. (Sloppy joes and peanutbutter shakes! Ewww! I know! Sloppy joes? Yuck!) Begrudgingly, they do as they are told. As they close the door behind them, the “bum” can overhear her telling them that after they eat, it’s straight upstairs to do their homework. They don’t want to end up like that homeless man, do they? The Maxx lowers his head and walks into the night.
End.











The filthy, inhuman creature crawls from its dark, dank hole. Squinting its eyes, it tries to adjust to the sudden bright light, wasting little time as it knows that the light is fleeting. It quickly bathes, takes in nourishment, and performs any other duties that require proper eyesight. It then attempts the final test. Breathing slowly, it flips the switch to its tablet…success! Internet connection has been established! So now I’m writing my newest article! Yes, fellow Unspoken-ites, your dear Symbifan resides in Iowa and was without power for over a week. This was due to a horrible storm that struck here called a “derecho.” (Insert Dora the Explorer saying, “Can you say ‘derecho’?” here.)
The man, known as Jonathan Taylor Prophet, is always at his best when he’s in the midst of a bloodbath. Deep down, he wants to be a man of God. But men of God don’t kill with such grim satisfaction. Do they? He ponders this as he battles. The combatant’s name is Bloodstrike, and first blood was spilled quite some time ago. Both men are bleeding profusely and are injured beyond mortal standards. Yet they continue. The battleground seems to be a filthy sewer, but the rush of water hardly slows either warrior down. Prophet strikes suddenly with a blade. He is met with a kick that connects under his jaw. Never slowing, Prophet hurls the weapon as he’s in motion. It hits home, impaling his enemy in the chest! When Bloodstrike recovers enough, he sees that Prophet is gone. However, he has left a rather easy blood trail to follow. The search begins. (Daaaaaaamn! I haven’t ever seen a battle this bloody in a comic before! And I’ve even read issues where Archie cheated on Betty! Sheesh!)
Bloodstrike nurses his many wounds as he follows the trail of his enemy’s blood. He enters another tunnel and immediately spies his prey. Wasting no time, he springs at the seemingly unconscious warrior. Prophet moves with lightning speed, thrusting upward with a long spear! He impales Bloodstrike through his abdomen, hardly slowing the enraged man down. He grabs Prophet and rams the other end of the spear through his chest! Both combatants are now face to face. All that separates them is the weapon that is jammed through both of their broken bodies! (Holy crap! Someone call a damn medic! These guys are real men! I sob and seek comfort when I break a fingernail!)
The next issue, Prophet stands upon a mighty cliff side. Garbed in a flowing red cloak, he surveys the land around him. Without warning, a mechanical transport hovers overhead. Enemies leap from it, intent on the warriors blood! He expects them to be disciples, but they are demons! Unfazed, Prophet draws his weapons. He slays the creatures with little effort, advancing on their ship. He leaps aboard. Slowly rising to his feet, he sees a figure looming over him wearing a cloak similar to his own. The man slowly reveals his face. Prophet expects to see his own face, as his visions usually end this way. Instead it is the hooded face of Crypt. Prophet jolts awake, crying to the heavens! (I love these vision scenes! So cool! The most “vision-like” experience I’ve ever had while asleep was the time I saw myself peeing and awoke to a wet bed. Not sure why I just shared that with you….)
Kirby bursts into the room, concerned for his friend’s welfare. Prophet quickly describes the vision to Kirby. He tells him that this was a sign. A sign that he must confront the monstrous Crypt. Kirby scoffs. They’re being hunted by agents of Ragnarok and the U.S. military alike! They should be laying low, not hunting a beast like Crypt all because of a dream! But finally, the small man gives in and the two hit the open road. (Can you imagine having a pal like Kirby? I mean, say you dream about Twinkies and wake up and tell your friend that you’ve had a vision. You are destined to devour these sweet little cakes. And your friend agrees?! That’s a true friend right there. Or he has the munchies too. Either way, though…)
We then change our focus to Ragnarok HQ. Deep within the bowels of this sinister complex, Omen has given the order to pack up everything for immediate relocation. Too many know of this “secret” base now, and measures must be taken. As the soldiers follow their orders, Omen descends to a small subbasement. He muses to himself about how his disciple units will take over the world and he will rule it as a messiah. To do this, he will need a general. A loyal soldier to aid in accomplishing his dark dream. Within the tube floats a growing piece of flesh! (Cue the spooky music! Why do these supervillains always want to take over the world anyway? Talk about stress! Ugh! Your blood pressure would be through the roof in days! Guaranteed!)
Later, the heroes take refuge in a church. As Kirby chats with the priest, an old friend of his, Prophet kneels before a large crucifix, secured on the wall behind the altar. There he thinks of his father, a man of the cloth that was murdered by Nazis long ago. Prophet remembers that he once swore to be a just man like his father, a man of God. He then realizes that perhaps that isn’t his path after all. He is a warrior, a killer. Lost in thought, he barely notices the sound of flapping metallic wings overhead. Judas strikes! (Man, seems kinda wrong to attack a man mid-prayer. And in a church no less! Oh well. She has great legs, so we’ll allow it. But just this once.)
Just when it seems that Judas’ dream of vengeance will be realized, Prophets now badly-damaged, reprogrammed disciple makes its presence known! It grabs onto Judas and counts down! Prophet and the others run as their cybernetic savior explodes behind them! Far away, Crypt remarks with disgust how Judas has failed him. It seems that if you want something done right, you must do it yourself.
This article is dedicated to my son, James Christian Miller. His birthday was this month and I promised him I’d dedicate my next article to him. Here it is, buddy. I hope you like it. This article hardly covers the amount of love and pride I feel when you’re around me. Nothing can. This is my best try. Love, Dad.