Episode 015, “Prisoners of the Mysterious Master Mold!”
X-Aspirations Episode 015
X-Men #15, December 1965
“Prisoners of the Mysterious Master Mold!”
Written by Stan Lee, Layouts by Jack Kirby, Pencils by Jay Gavin, Inked by Dick Ayers, Lettered by Artie Simek.
Sometimes Nothing Is The Greatest Reward of All!
In Which We Find That If You Can’t Ride Your Ice Slide You Better Make It Glide, That Robot-Man Procreation Would Be An Abomination If It Didn’t Feel So Right, And That All Applications For Human Evisceration Must Be Filed In Triplicate.
We Are Sentinels! Resistance Is Futile. You WIll Be Assim- Sorry, That Is The End Of The Pay Period. Please Come Back Tomorrow Between The Hours of 10 and 2 for Final Annihilation.
Look, I’m not an engineer, but a “Bridge” should be structurally sound. Maybe Bobby could add some quake resistant pylons or a couple of steel suspension cables. Or maybe, just maybe, a material whose melting point is well above room temperature.
Foolish human, Sentinels have mastered ergonomic chair technology! Tremble as we perform hours of data entry without danger of neck strain or carpal tunnel syndrome!
We must contact CONTROL and coordinate together for an enemy DELETE. That should either reboot these fallen sentinels or, at the bare minimum, put us into safe mode.
Scott claims those are his car keys digging into my back… but he doesn’t even own a car!
Funny, I’ve been itchin’ to tear that over-sized Navajo Indian headband off their cylindrical noggins. But a chin punch is better than nothing.
I would be interested to know what exactly is “micro” about that electric attack. Is it microwaves? Damn it professor, never wrap your astral form in aluminum foil!
OK, set your watches… 10 puns in 10 seconds: Go!
That’s using your head! That Sentinel is trying to get ahead! It looks like this crisis just came to a head! This is not what I meant by give me head! Oh Dear, he’s caught his Head in the Lights! Someone just got a splitting headache! Sentinel T is in over his head! More ice for the head chef! I don’t think the X-men can afford all this overhead. Somebody check his pants for… Ah damn, out of time.
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