Okay. Before you read any further, the author needs to explain two points for you to get this story.

POINT #1: An American playwright named David Ives is the creator of a one-act play entitled Sure Thing. In this production, a man enters an eating establishment and attempts to hook up with a woman he meets there. Every time one of these characters says or does something that would prevent the conversation from continuing, a bell rings, and the dialogue rewinds to the offending point, whereupon something new is said or done, and we see how things progress from there, until the need for another bell ring.

POINT #2: In yet another attempt to absolve their wealth of plot discrepancies and bewildering assortment of alternate worlds, DC Comics instituted the ret-con device known as the 'reality punch.' This is what they called it when evil alternate Superboy pounded with his meaty fists on the 'walls of reality,' which apparently not only exist, but are susceptible to physical abuse. A battery complaint from the aggrieved reality walls has yet to appear in DC court, possibly because it blames itself and knows Superboy really loves it and would never hurt it if it would just stop screwing up all the time. But I digress. The 'reality punch' was used to explain away any and all historical snafus the writers of this company experienced in their pursuit of new stories, from resurrecting the dead and buried to reimagining how people got their super-powers. It was a true magic bullet, and the cause for a great deal of controversy vis-à-vis the readers.

This is my attempt at blending the two ideas. I am not the first to commandeer Ives' comically brilliant notion, I am sure, and possibly not even the first to fuse the two concepts. But for what it's worth, here is my submission. Read and be amazed!

A green dog bounded into the waiting area of The Cobble Pot, a superhero Internet Café. It shook itself vigorously to dispel the damp weight of water it had collected whilst running through the rain. Several of the assembled crimefighter patrons loudly expressed annoyance at being so rudely and thoroughly drenched.

In fact, one of those customers was the evil version of Superboy, and he stood up, bellowed something unintelligible because it was so loud it ruptured all eardrums everywhere, and proceeded to vaporize the entire planet with his super Kryptonian heat vision.

He then flew off and beat up on the walls of reality for not having dinner ready when he got home.


The green dog was about to shake itself, thought better of it, and proceeded to turn into a flea, negating any possibility of water clinging to its form. Satisfied, the shapeshifter then reverted to its original form, revealing itself to be none other than Beast Boy, confident and charismatic leader of Titans West.


The recently-initiated and completely hopeless doofus of the New Teen Titans, Beast Boy had been sent by his charismatic leader, thirty-year old Nightwing…


Sent by his overbearing prick of a team leader Robin to pick up their order, the physically unimpressive young man made his way to the end of the line. Checking out the crowd of fellow do-gooders, Beast Boy spied a very attractive young lady sitting by herself reading a book. He then proceeded to wait three hours for the line of people ahead of him to finish their orders. In that time, the girl in question finished her book, stood up, and left.


There was no one ahead of him, so Beast Boy shuffled uncertainly forward. When the employee behind the register glared at him as though laying the blame for all her life's disappointments at this boy's door, he timidly scuttled the remaining distance to come to a halt before her.

"Uh, hey," he flashed a feeble grin, which she did not return. Chastised, the sackless wonder finally came up with, "I'm a… I mean, I'm from the Titans, here to pick up our order."

She sniffed. "Here," and handed over a collection of caffeinated beverages stuck in cardboard containers. Beast Boy paid the bill and promptly left, feeling like a used rubber.


She sniffed. "It's not ready."

He flashed a grin. "Hey, no problem, doll-face. While we're waiting, waddaya say we go in back and I'll be all over you like a tiger on Siegfried's face!"


She immediately turned and left before he could try out one of his patented pick-up lines on her. Beast Boy tapped his foot; then, in a forcibly loud voice, called out to her retreating back, "I'd love to be the father of your children, baby, but for now, I think just the coffee will do."

Behind him, the girl he had been scoping out earlier stood up and left.


He flashed a grin. "That's okay, I'll just take a seat and wait."

She shrugged, disinterested, and moved off to whip up some foam on a latté.

Turning back about, the randy goat of a superhero rested his elbows on the bar, presenting an impression of cool laid-back confidence for every member of the opposite sex in the immediate vicinity. Once more, the sight of the attractive and noticeably solitary female drew his attention. Adopting a stance that screamed, "MATE ME, I'M YOURS!" he sauntered over to her table and leaned one hand on its surface, letting his eyes roam up and down her body.

The piece of meat in question had purple hair and grey skin.


His future conquest had black hair and a demonic red pallor.


The lady was a brunette, with skin color of no particularly abnormal hue. She was dressed in civvies, the type that might have pegged her as an ordinary financially-strapped college student, were it not for the company she was keeping in this establishment. At finding her reading area intruded upon, she glanced up at Beast Boy in a manner that implied she was not to be intruded upon. Her admirer chose not to read the sign clearly spelled out on her frowning face.

Beast Boy grinned cheekily.

"Are you tired? Cuz you've been running through my mind all day."


"Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you're the only 'ten' I 'see'."


"Are you a doctor? Cuz I'd like to perform mouth-to-mouth on you."


"Were your pants made by NASA? Cuz your bootie is out of this world."


"Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"


"So, what would you like for breakfast?"


"So, what shall we name our children?"


"So, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"


"I didn't know angels flew this low."


"Nice jeans. They'd look even better on my bedroom floor."


"I might not be Fred Flintstone, but I can make your Bed Rock!"


"Got a light?"


"Excuse me. Can I just have a seat here?"

The girl returned his innocent remark with a very rude glare.

"No, but you can have a patent-leather boot up your ass."


The girl stared at him blankly.

"Ŝta kažete?"


"Sure, go ahead."

He smiled, both pleased and grateful, and proceeded to occupy the seat right across from her.

No further words were spoken by his silent siren.

"So…" Beast Boy hazarded, drumming his fingers on the table. "You got a super-power?"

The lady flicked a page of her book. "Yeah. It's cutting off the digits of people who irritate me."



"So…" Beast Boy hazarded, watching her closely while she proceeded to read her book and ignore him. "My name's Beast Boy."

The girl turned her head, and smiled sweetly.

"Hi, Beast Boy. I'm Who-Gives-A-Damn Gal. Now shut up!"


"I'm Beast Boy."

She flicked a glance at him. "No. You're not."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"There's no excuse for you."


The girl nodded politely. "Raven."

"Cool name," he saluted her.

She shrugged. "It pays the bills."

Beast Boy nodded sagely.

"That and the flesh-peddling."

He gawked.


"Thanks, my mother gave it to me."

"Oh." The viridian adventurer leaned forward to settle his elbows on the shiny marble tabletop, trying to appear deeply interested in everything she said. "You have family around here?"

Raven closed her book with a sigh, and brushed a hand through her hair.

"Well, kind of. My mom's an accountant, and my dad's the King of Hell, so…"


"Well, kind of. My mom's a lawyer…"


"Kind of. You know the leper colony outside of town?"


"Nope. Just me. Flying solo for a change."

"Yeah, I hear you," Beast Boy sighed. "I'm a solo crimefighter myself."

"Really," she drawled, and pointed at the large yellow 'T' emblazoned on his forehead. "What's that stand for, then? Tuberculosis?"


"I'm part of a team myself," the changeling informed her casually. "The Teen Titans. You ever think about joining?"

"Joining?" Raven looked at him, and laughed. "What do you mean, 'joining?' I started that team, remember?"

"What?" he blinked.

"Yeah, a few decades ago!" The elegant damsel waved a hand negligently. "Back in the early eighties, I got you, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and a bunch of other spandex-crotches to help me defeat my demon father. I did it by subtly making you love me with my empathic powers. Then I spent several years as a disembodied voice on the wind, only to be resurrected and, true to form, have my first experience on awakening to be getting dry-humped by Brother Blood and his Trigon worshippers. Speaking of which, you and I were pretty hot and heavy there for a while."

Beast Boy's eyes goggled out of his head.

"When it was over, I enrolled in college, got a degree in Criminal Justice, organized several more superhero teams, and retired off the proceeds."

The green bean stared dumbfounded.

He then shook his head, trying to clear it. "Wait… the eighties? So then… how old are you?" A befuddled look came over his features. "And how old am I?" he whispered.

Raven shrugged. "Dunno. Early forties? Late thirties? It's hard to keep track of people's ages when you've been killed off and ret-conned back as many times as me. Anyway, have fun going back to your teenage pals, Mr. Mid-Life Crisis on Infinite Earths."


"I'm fine on my own," Raven insisted, withdrawing from further conversation.

"I only ask, because…" Beast Boy steeled himself. His father had always told him to be honest. At least, he used to, before both his parents were drowned at sea.


Having your parents drowned in a flood taught you something about honesty. I mean, if anything was going to do it, that would. Right? Right!


Being the only survivor of a freak metallurgical accident in which his genes were cross-spliced with those of a mutant adamantium space Shoggoth from beyond Pluto meant that Beast Boy was very honest and…


Beast Boy reflected on how the Good Book teaches us that honesty is…


Beast Boy recognized that this girl wasn't about to fall for any of his usual bulls—t, and decided to just be honest with her.

"Raven," he cleared his throat, and she looked up at him appraisingly. "I'm about to tell you something the likes of which you've never heard before."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is it that you have the clap? Because believe me, I've heard it before, and in this case it comes as no surprise."


"Raven," he cleared his throat, and she looked up at him appraisingly. "I need you to suspend disbelief for just a moment."

She raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because Jason Todd has come back to life!"


"Because Hal Jordan was possessed by Parallax!"


The Ventriloquist approached their table. "Here you go," he said, serving Raven her tea. She smiled and nodded.


"Because not only is Bruce Wayne actually Batman, but Bane might be his half-brother!"


"Because the Doom Patrol's accident was not an accident!"


"Because this is really a play we're in, and we're just actors!"

"Really?" Raven then turned and peered out at the audience. "Cool!"


"Because I decided when I looked at you that even though I'm short and green and kinda goofy, I was a good enough man to risk trying to catch the attention of an attractive and intriguing woman like yourself. It sounds ridiculous even when I just think it, but it's worth facing any humiliation and living with it afterwards for the rest of my life to tell you out loud that I have fallen in love with you at first sight. I'd give up all my wealth for the chance to just sit here and have a cup of coffee with you, in the hopes that it might lead to us being in each others' lives forever."

Raven stared.


Beast Boy sagged back into his seat. "Yeah, I know. 'Reality punch,' right?"

"Excuse me?"

He risked a glance back up, eyes darting nervously about. "Um… you mean we don't have to pretend that didn't happen?"

"I certainly hope not!" The lovely lady leaned forward, placing one smooth silky hand against his. There was such respect and wonder in her face that it caused any trace of embarrassment or trepidation to quickly drain away from her admirer.

"So." He swallowed his nervousness. "Do you want to stay here, or would you like to go somewhere else?"

She displayed a warm smile. "Here is good." And then Raven gave him a playful bonk on the head. "Besides, you've got an order coming up, right?"

He gave a shaky laugh, a huge grin spreading over his cheeks.


And for those of you who hate happy endings...

"YO! Ball Sack!"

Beast Boy cringed at the first of what he knew must be many gratuitous nicknames.

"No, no, no," he prayed fervently. "Not now, please not right now."

Robin came striding into the café, shaking rainwater off his manly heartthrob muscle-package.

"The hell is keeping you, Boy Toy? I kicked your leg-humping butt out into the rain twenty minutes ago, and you can't stop licking your crotch long enough to pick up some lousy coffee?"

Several lady heroes in attendance began to call out his name invitingly, and the garishly garbed gallant shot sly winks and leering looks in their directions as he advanced down the aisle. Beast Boy's forehead hit the table with a soft, sad thud.

"Man, Ball Sweat, I swear, right hand to heaven, if I find that you've been sniffing around another sleazy fangirl, I hereby vow in the name of Bruce Aloysius Wayne, I will slit your sack, run your leg up through it and whip you all around the yard, you little…! "

The internationally-recognized superhero checked himself upon spotting Raven.

"Da-yum," he breathed.

Robin then planted one booted foot on top of the table, giving everyone present a clear view of his black silk top-side underwear.

"Hey, doll," he smirked at the refined heroine. "If I told you that I had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

"Sweet heaven, yes!"


Beast Boy's head shot back up. Before him, Raven's eyes had gone glassy, and she stared with a smolderingly sensual and vapid expression at the cavalier color wheel standing before her.


Before another word could be said, Raven leapt up and began furiously making out with Robin. The conjoined couple then staggered out of the room, pausing only to snag the trays of coffee drinks that Beast Boy had ordered.

"He'll pay!" the leader of the Titans gasped, and swept out into the rain, to the accompanying cheers and catcalls of the crowd.

Slumped in his seat, the agog animal master quivered like a bowl of pistachio pudding.

He suddenly leapt up, and began beating his fists against the nearest brick wall.



"Hey, you!"

Beast Boy looked up from his spot alone at the table, to find himself confronted by three unremarkably evil-looking characters.

"Who are you?" he whimpered.

"WE are Raven's three evil brothers, who did not exist ten seconds ago!" one of them supplied. "But your pounding on the walls of reality has brought us into existence. And we don't like the way you were looking at our sister!"

The goofy green lifesaver blinked in stupefied incomprehension.

"Wait… what…?"

"GET 'IM!" they all roared, and attacked.

While the proceeding beating was taking place, a terrible villain somewhere in the far reaches of the universe made a miscalculation in his super-powerful time-controlling device's lines of code, and as a result, they all got wiped out of existence.

"Sweet Jeezus Aych Keerist on a bicycle, but I hate ret-cons," Beast Boy sighed.