Or – “Ray Palmer, Lightly Braised In A White Wine Sauce, With A Fried Egg On Top, And Spam…”
Al Pratt:Â “Um, excuse me, is this the undertaker’s?”
Black Hand:Â “Yup, that’s right, what can I do for you, squire?”
Al Pratt:Â “Um, well, I wonder if you can help me. My Atom has just died and I’m not quite sure what I should do.”
Black Hand:Â “Ah, well, we can ‘elp you. We deal with stiffs.”
Al Pratt:Â “Stiffs?”
Black Hand:Â “Yeah… Now there’s three things we can do with your Atom. We can bury him, burn him, or dump him.”
Al Pratt: “Dump him?”
Black Hand: “Dump him in the Thames.”
Al Pratt: “What?”
Black Hand: “Oh, did you like him?”
Al Pratt: “Yes!”
Black Hand: “Oh well, we won’t dump him, then. Well, what do you think: burn him, or bury him?”
Al Pratt: “Um. Well, I.. I.. I.. I’m not very sure. He’s definitely dead.”
Black Hand: “Let’s ‘ave a look... Oh, he looks quite young.”
Al Pratt: “Well, from the Silver Age, anyway…”
Black Hand: “SCAR! I THINK WE’VE GOT AN EATER!”
Scar: “I’ll get the oven on!”
Al Pratt: “Um, er…Â excuse me, um, are you…Â Are you suggesting we should… Â eat my Atom?”
Black Hand: “Yeah. Not raw, not raw. We cook him. He’d be delicious with a few french fries, a bit of stuffing. Delicious!”
Al Pratt: “Actually, I do feel a bit peckish… No! NO, I can’t!”
Black Hand: “Look, we’ll eat your Atom. And if you feel guilty afterwards, we’ll dig a grave and you can throw up into it.”
Al Pratt: “All right…”
(FIN)
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