There are two people in the world who can get away with calling me whore.  One of them is Jennifer Connelly.  The other, (and the topic of tonight’s blog) is Jessica, who would probably smite me if I put off writing this one any longer.  But who doth she be, this Jessica woman?  From whence dost she come?  Whither do she goest?  Why writest I all olde timey like thus?  All the questions, and fewer, shall I answer here tonight.  So sit back, gentle reader, grab a beer or possibly a box of Ecto Cooler, if you happen to have a time machine, and prepare to get your learn on.

            Jessica was born in the lost and improbable forests of Eenrok, where the gelatinous friths gibber at the three moons of Utan, as they sun their scaly and supple hides upon the banks of the ambivalent river Kalderon.  Mind you, it wasn’t like she just showed up in the wilderness one day and was raised by the wild and woolly were-squirrels which frequent those places for unspeakable rites of evil and the occasional game of bridge; she was rather raised in the yurt of her parents, Wulfgar Trollrender and Helga Weaselflinger, who guarded the paths of the mysterious forests of Eenrok, and slew the vile and unfashionable Krelthak beasts which were in those days wont to wander through the woods in search of unwary travelers, unguarded caravans carrying black rubies from the land of Tarnoria, and perhaps the occasional submarine sandwich (which, in the tongue of her people, is called a “hoagie”).  In these wilds was she reared by her parents and taught by Jedi Master Dick Cheney to keep the forests safe for wayfarers, as had her ancestors from way back in the day during the Nixon Administration.  And so might she ever lived, had not fate (which is not without a sense of humor) intervened.

            Indeed, it so happened that one night, whilst she was at Wal-Mart buying individually-packaged bottles of Yoo-Hoo, a particularly repugnable and fangorious monkey man crept near with his +7 Cloak of Greater Invisibility and annoyed the hell out of her.  At once, she felt a new power within her, and drawing for the first time upon her primal rage, Jessica gave voice to an unworldly cry of vengeance, hulked out, and promptly broke her pocket book.  The monkey man quickly fled to the frozen bakery isle to gnaw upon one of those little ready made tubes of corn biscuits, and Jessica knew that her destiny was far more differenter than she had previously imagined it to be.

            In accordance with the law of the land and the traditions of the Ancients (who also wisely insisted that their name always be spelled with a capital A, lest they be confused with any of those other store-brand knock-off sorts of ancients), Jessica traveled across at least two states and possibly a decent sized bit of the galaxy or perhaps even some sort of eternal interdimensional barrier (which may seem like a lot, but then again, a person can’t just go gadding about the dairy isle of Wal-Mart, hulking out and breaking pocketbooks all hither and thither either).  At last after many weary minutes of travel, she arrived at her destination, Meadowbrook High School, Secret Superhero Academy (which would more likely have remained a secret longer had they not gone and put that last part there on a big sign out front for all the world to see).  There she honed her hulking skillz, riding to school each day on a fiery chariot pulled by a thousand fiery guinea pigs until Mr. Higgenbotham got tired of the parking difficulties this caused and told her to go buy a Toyota Camry like a normal person.

            And so it went, until one day at the ancient tribal gathering place of bored people without much money, Putt Putt, Jessica chanced to wear the ancient traditional made out of Mah Jonng Tiles bracelet of her people, and chanced to meet Jason, who had just finished dating the one hundred and fifty consecutive crazy girls prophesized by John Adams in a blog I wrote some months back.  Since he knew full well about this prophecy, and had been keeping track of the numbers better than anyone, he figured the odds of this new girl not being a complete and total psycho were tolerably good, and as you may have already assumed, they ended up getting along quite well together and falling in love in that sappy sort of a way that would thoroughly spoil the epic qualities of this tale were I to describe it at greater length.

            After school, Jessica secured a job as the receptionist at Grolok’s House of Torment and Hair Salon Emporium, running the cash register, answering the phones, and making sure than no vicious Narlaks got in (Narlaks, it being generally known, being completely bald anyway, and having at best a rudimentary conception of the science of tipping).  To this very day she works there yet, ever training, ever breaking pocketbooks, and awaiting the day when she and Jason, Techno-Warlord of the Electronics Department, get married and go off to slay some nameless evil or impolite beast in a suitably epic and blogaboutable manner.