Advance Review: A Poem About King In Black: Iron Man/Doctor Doom #1

‘Twas a week after Christmas, a world gone to hell

That gave quite a comic, from ol’ Chris Cantwell.

Combining two series, Larroca drew one;

Infused King In Black with some good Yuletide fun.

With Tony and Victor there leading the way;

While blasting the goo right off Santa’s sleigh.

With low expectations, and pup on my lap

I just settled my brain for a long winter’s nap.

Turned to page one and assumptions remain

This Stark’s first world problems, they seemed quite inane!

Stark’s guilt over Eddie, who died in the fight;

Promised this comic, would stray from the light.

The still static artwork and tales of poor Knull,

Gave a lingering dread to this comic in all.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a small sticky sleigh and eight tiny paindeer,

With a little old driver so rancid and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than dragons his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called out in pain:

“The sleighbells, they sting in vile perdition!

Knull’s violent, Knull’s vile, Knulls here on a mission!

Infecting with darkness, and all of his might!

You metal clad monsters can’t put up a fight!’

Now Doom on the scene scoffed the Iron Man,

The futurist lost, without a good plan;

With loads of extremis, and some Christmas cheer;

There came a good comic to close out the year. 

His plots oft don’t impress, but due credit around,

This Chris Cantwell knows how these voices sound.

And Sal’s body language, though stiff in places,

Fits perfect for subjects with immovable faces.

For what I’ve found missing throughout King In Black,

Is the joy and wonder in this X-Mas track.

The lettering’s steller, the moral is fine;

We find here a tie-in that walks to the line.

It isn’t essential, but it is quite good,

To see Marvel heroes save their neighborhood.

It’s fluffy, it’s fun, it’s well worth the wait;

A sure fire highlight, of the event to date.

It’s silly, it’s wacky, but solid you see,

For Doom doesn’t cry when topping a tree.

I wish this event could finally accept,

This story is goofy, and let us forget;

The limitless horror, the Catesian edge,

That sticky black monster who’s driven a wedge

Between Advocates and the un-Knullified few

Who haven’t been smitten with good Donny’s goo.

More stories like this, and less like the other

That feel like a young boy enraged against mother.

 I’ll finally exclaim, as I type out of sight –

“This comic right here? This comic shines bright.”