[ WP ] Literally everyone in the city independently decided to finally live out their dreams of becoming a masked crime fighter on the same night .

`` Larry?!'' That voice. He knew that voice. He turned around from his view of the city sky line, its towers and spires lit up like a Macy's in December. Now in front of him was a 42 year old accountant ( who would be a virgin if not for the Boy Scouts ), unfortunately wearing what looked to be a bright red spandex suit -- with matching cape and mask -- that clung to every awful curve of his jiggling body. 
 
 `` Randy.'' He facepalmed harder than Picard after losing another Red-shirt. If only he could lose the one standing in front of him. 
 
 `` What the hell are you doing here?'' the sad, mouth-breathing sop asked as he waved his arms in the air. 
 
 `` I am justice, you fucking plebian,'' he muttered under his breath, his hand struggling to massage away the headache growing at the front of his head. 
 
 `` Wow that's awesome, I'm Constipation Man!'' jiggled the complete oaf of a human being. 
 
 `` Constipation Man?'' Larry sighed. 
 
 `` You're goddamn right!'' 
 
 `` You've got to be shitting me.'' Oh wait, he ca n't. 
 
 `` I wish I could!'' shouted Randy from what was too small a distance to even stand next to a person, let alone throw his spittle and verbiage all over their face every time he talked. 
 
 Larry turned away. This shit of an excuse for an intelligent life form would not hinder his vengeance tonight. No. No one could stop the sour wrath of the Elemonator. 
 
 `` So why yellow? Is n't that kind of a lame color for a super hero outfit? I mean who wears yellow?'' yelled Randy. 
 
 `` Wolverine.'' replied Larry, quickly and without an ounce of emotion. He can not feel emotions -- they will only hinder him on his path to justice. 
 
 `` Ohhhh, good point.'' 
 
 Larry was dressed from head to toe in yellow spandex, sans cape -- they were just too dangerous. He needed to survive long enough to ensure the flames of his wrath had reached all who had a hand in the injustices that he had suffered. `` Besides, I'm not yellow because I think it is cool. I'm yellow... for what it stands for,'' he growled. 
 
 `` Cowardice?'' 
 
 `` No --'' 
 
 `` Joy?'' 
 
 `` Nev --'' 
 
 `` Jaundice?'' 
 
 `` No, you do n't --'' 
 
 `` Ohh, lead paint.'' 
 
 `` NO YOU WORTHLESS SON OF A --'' 
 
 `` Wait! I get it. Snow.'' Randy was now nodding confidently, the crinkles in his neck only highlighted by the obnoxious hue of his costume. 
 
 `` I give up.'' muttered Larry, feeling rage. Yes, good, rage, he needed that. He was angry... no... furious. YES! Furious! They had taken away everything he loved. He went to that same shop, FroYO Momma on the corner of Winkle St and Harrison Avenue, for every week on Friday for 22 years, and ordered the same damn thing everytime. The ONLY thing that could satisfy his incredible urge for the succulence... the sournosity his taste buds so painfully craved: their Lemon flavored frozen yogurt, Lemonberry Sunshine. It gave him life, happiness. He could always rely on a cup of the stuff to change his day for the better. 
 
 Now? Now it was gone. Now, FroYO Momma was no longer where it stood. Now it was the Super Shop, a one stop all-you-can-think-of emporium for run of the mill, everyday losers like he and Randy to go and drown their sorrows in delusions of grandeur. People walked in as idiots, and left as idiots with less money and a shitty costume... and they LIKED IT. Ass loads of people suited up and became `` masked avengers'' over night, and now, now he will never get his delicious frozen happiness. So he decided to become a villain, the Elemonator, a masked vigilante willing to execute his justice on anyone that was responsible for the buying out of FroYo Momma and the astounding overnight success of the Super Shop... including himself. But he'd leave that for another day. Tonight... tonight he'd start with Randy. His hand moved instinctively to his hip, resting on the handle of his water gun, no, he'd need another name for that. Lemonsqueeze? Hmm, whatever, he could think of another name later. Either way, he'd use it deliver his sticky, sour justice across the city until he was satisfied, shooting lemon juice into the eyes of those that poured concrete into his soul. 
 `` Let's begin.''
