Smiles
This is the one that started it all, for better or worse. To tell you
how far back this goes, picture this: one day, in eleventh grade
honors English class, we get a substitute teacher. He assigns us
the task of writing a poem so the teacher will grade it the next day
upon returning. So, being the intellectual rebels that my
high-school buddy and I fancied ourselves, we figured we'd try to
shock our teacher with poems not about flowers and oceans and
warm, fuzzy feelings, or social change, but about comic book killers.
He chose the Punisher. I chose the Joker.
The irony is, the sub only assigned it to give us something to do.
Our own teacher never even read it.
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