"Welcome home, son. How was school?"

"I don't go to no school, Ma. You know that. Me and the Newsboy Legion, we fight crime."

"Oh my yes, I forgot, you fight crime. Well. What crimes did you fight at school today?"

"I'm tellin' you, Ma, there ain't no schools in Suicide Slum. Me and the gang went to a theater and got into costumes to smash a crooked ring that was operatin' plays without hirin' union guys. Also, they was historically inaccurate."

"I see. And did you smash this, what do you call it, ring?"

"Well, yeah, but there was a moment when it got dicey, 'cause Benny - he's the triggerman for the outfit - opened up with a Tommy Gun as we ran on stage, but the Guardian made the bullet bounce off his shield. Hit a guy up on the catwalk. Killed him dead. Didn't even scream on the way down."

"I see. And did you help this . . . Guardian?"

"Kinda. I ran at Benny with an axe and buried it in his throat. He died kinda hard."

"Son, I know you have an imagination, but I wish you weren't so gruesome."

"Aw, maw."

"Really. Perhaps when you're in seventh grade you can talk about these things. Now run along and do your homework."

"Ma, I ain't been in school since kindeegarten. Lay off."