Death Skull let out a hysterical cackle, which echoed piercingly from the stone walls of his lair.
"Why so combative?" he said, emerg ing from the shadows. "At the end of the day, we're not so different, you and I."
"What are you talking about?" Ultra Man demanded.
"We are both strangers to this world," Death Skull intoned. "Maligned, misunderstood. We make our own paths, live by our own rules, refuse to compromise for anyone. Yes, in many ways, we are the same."
Ultra Man squinted at him. "I don't know, man," he said. "That's a pretty big stretch. Like, I know we both wear capes, or whatever. But I stand for good, and you stand for evil. That's about as different as it gets."
"Hmm," Death Skull murmured. "Hmm."
"I told you it was pointless," Death Skull said to his wife, Jackie. "It's impossible to make friends after forty."
"I do it all the time," Jackie said.
"It's different for guys!" Death Skull shricked.
"I want more specifics," Jackie pressed. "What did Ultra Man say when you asked him if he wanted to be friends with you?"
Death Skull averted his black eyes.
"Let me guess," Jackie said. "You didn't do it like we practiced."
"I'm not going to just walk up to him and say, 'Please be my friend,"he scoffed. "I mean, what is this, kindergarten?"
He let out a cackle, but the echo wasn't great, because their apartment had carpeting.
"O.K., so Ultra Man isn't a good fit," Jackie said. "That doesn't mean you have to give up on friendship. Why don't you try joining a group for villains, like the Terrible Ten or the Harvard Club?"
"The dues are obscene!" Death Skull thundered. "I don't even play squash!"
"Look," Jackie said. "If you want to stop being lonely and don't try to pretend you're not, because you already admitted it when you were drunk-then you've got to be more open-minded." She headed for the kitchen.
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