Irving is All American Girl’s agent. Here’s a little bit of Irving and AG.
“Oh baby,” said the man on the other end of the line. “That hurts. That really hurts. You know Irving is your number one fan.”
“Really? I thought you were supposed to be my agent.”
“Come on baby. Give Irving some love.”
“How about I fly over there and twist your head off like a bottle cap? You haven’t answered my calls in weeks, and then here you are, all ‘baby, baby’…”
“Baby. Irving has been busy.”
“I’ve been busy too.”
“I know you have, my sweetness, but Irving has been really busy. He’s been busy working for you, my sassy spangled mega-babe.”
“That’s it,” Stella sat the soda down and stood up. “I’m flying over there right now.”
“Before you do, listen to these four words: All American Girl Magazine.”
“A magazine deal? Where and who?”
“National baby! Hatchet Media International!”
“Hatchet?” Stella ran her fingers through her close-cropped blond hair. “They’re big right?”
“The biggest magazine distributor in the world—forty eight hero magazines and all of those supers are in the top one hundred of the New York Times list! Captain Hero! Ultrawoman!”
“Vanguard?”
“Vanguard!”
“Dark Defender?”
“Um, no… He’s published by somebody else.”
“But Ultrawoman…”
“Ultra-woman, baby!”
“So what? They’re ready for magazine number forty nine?”
“Well, no. They had an opening. Cosmic Man, well you know…”
“Yeah, that was too bad. But you try to stop an asteroid; you’ve got to expect that kind of thing. This is big, Irving. This is big.”
“Big baby.”
“You did good Irving.”
“Oh baby, you know Irving is always working for you. But this was all you, super friend. Kicking ass on terrorists. Terrorists with rockets. And doing it right while the traffic copter was there to film the whole thing. That was brilliant baby! You’re all over the news.”
“Am I?”
“You know it.”
“That was a lucky break,” said Stella, more to herself than to Irving.
“Luck is for suckers, baby. You got mad skills. And you know what a magazine deal means? Money. Advertising revenue, sponsors, money, collateral damage insurance, money. Did I mention money?”
“That’s awesome Irving.”
“There’s just one thing, baby.”
“What’s that?”
“They haven’t exactly made the final decision yet?”
“What do you mean? Do I have a magazine or not?”
“It’s down to either you or one other super.”
“Who?”
“Skygirl.”
“Skygirl? That slut! Who’d want to read about her? She’s a total airhead! And have you seen her thighs? They’re like tree-trunks! And what’s the deal with her costume? Were they out of ass spandex that day?”
I originally wrote Irving intending that he appear as nothing more than a voice on the phone, but I liked him so much, he just had to make an appearance in the flesh.
City of Amathar 