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Cover mash up courtesy of superherouniverse.com

Technically, its the night BEFORE the “Night Before Comic-Con”, but it IS the “Night Before Trevor Leaves for San Diego because He is NOT Doing That Drive in One Day.” Comic-Con starts Thursday for most folks, but for a select few who were fortunate enough to get the tickets for it, Wednesday night is the official kick-off with the highly coveted PREVIEW NIGHT, which is the only day where walking around the convention floor isn’t an Olympic event. It’s also the night where the various companies attending offer special deals/discounts/mini-events and it is quite a bit fun. And with the start of this year’s San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC), Four Colors is the place to hear all things Comic-Con from the floor itself.

Unlike last year, where Comic-Con brought about an identity crisis to the blog, this year there will be all sorts of goodies to be found here (or so I am planning). While bigger blogs, magazines and newspapers will get the inside scoop on the BIG NEWS, I will be bringing you the EXPERIENCE of Comic-Con. Four Colors will serve as my Comic-Con diary, with posts coming daily, videos being tossed up and my Twitter feed will be filled. The stories you didn’t even KNOW you wanted to read.

What is it like to wait in line for an four hours to get into a 45 minute panel? Which celebrities brave the floor when they aren’t signing? What is it like to spend a day in Artist Alley? What does Mark Hamill smell like?

Four Colors will be the place to find these answers. I’ll be trying to crash Hollywood parties. I will try and meet Karen Gillan from Doctor Who. The experience of a fan filtered through the lens of the press. Four Colors will make a mark on Comic-Con and hopefully, it’ll be a GREAT ONE!

And to kick it off, I have prepared a poem. Well, I wrote it before last year’s SDCC, forgot about it, found it, finished it, and now have a working draft. So, yeah, its prepared but it is kinda clunky (If I were a poet, Four Colors wouldn’t be around).

Without further ado, I present Twas the Night Before Comic-Con!


Twas the night before Comic-Con, when all through my parent’s house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The comics were placed in a long box with care

In hopes that their value would shoot into the air.

My annoying brother was nestled tight in his bed

Where Power Girl’s breasts danced in his head

With the folks out of town and I, five beers deep

The mood was just right for nice July sleep.

When on top of the roof there arose such a clatter

I threw off my BSG sheets to see what was the matter

Away to the window, I flew like The Flash

Pulled up the curtains and opened the latch

The moon lit the ground, still 100 degrees

My only relief being my movement’s small breeze

“What in the hell is that?” I exclaimed with a scream

For what I saw would make a great internet meme

Eight little men and a tiny red sleigh in the sky

Being led by neither bird nor plane, but Superman way up high.

Now they could’ve gone faster, I’m just gonna say

It looked that this group knew a thing or two about delay

Now I couldn’t believe the sight I beheld

It was actually Superman and the men’s names he soon yelled

“On DiDio, on Quesada! On Bendis and Geoff!

On Morrison, on Millar! On Stan Lee and Jeph!

To the nerd’s house, where no women call

Grab a variant cover and dash away ALL!”

And with no invitation, they crashed on my roof

And when it came to my concerns, they all seemed aloof.

Like my house was a phone booth, Superman crashed in

And while there was much damage, he gave me a grin

He stood 6 foot 5, and was built like stone

And in those tight spandex, every muscle was shown.

And while he was handsome and so charming,

His hair was rather greasy and his spit curl alarming.

He didn’t say anything, he remained rather stoic

And though he wrecked my house, he still was heroic.

Under his arm were some gifts, a present or two

I hoped for Action #1, but an Eisner would do.

Instead, he handed me a box shaped like a heart

I forgot the Blue Boy Scout was a sentimental old fart.

“This contains the hopes of comics,” he exclaimed with a smile

“Above the relaunches, resurrections and speculator denial.

It will remind you of the fun, the excitement and the adventure

Of reading this spectacular form of literature. ”

I ripped open the box, not knowing what I’d find

I expected something that would blow my mind

A lost Kirby, original Ditko, maybe the 80 Page Elseworlds

My eyes grew wide as the package was unfurled

But the smile shifted into a rather bemused look

For it was only a pencil, some paper and a tiny lined notebook.

“What the hell is this?” I asked the Man of Steel.

“You promised me a banquet and this is hardly a meal.”

Superman became stern, with the face of a grump

Seeing him angry made me take a dump.

“This is where comics start, when you form the idea

Before the comics are made and you get to see ‘em

But among all the spectacle, we forget the delight

And how great it feels to bring an idea to life.”

I found myself moved, my cynicism now a vestige

The Last Son of Krypton had just dropped some knowledge.

“Now I must go and see more fanboys like you

To keep the spirit alive and the true believers true.”

Away he went, up up in the air

With no mention of paying for repairs.

But as a parting gift, he let out a jolly roar

“Happy Comic-Con to all and to all EXCELSIOR!”

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