BIRD: Wuzzup, Buff? Unless my nose relieves me, I smell Kryptonite.
BUFFALO: Your snorter is on the money, Birdo. They’re showing back-to-back episodes of “Superman” on Turner Classic Movies.
BIRD: Blam! Ker-whamo! Grunkkk! Episodes? ‘Splain, pliss, Lucy.
BUFFALO: Old one-reelers from the early Forties, my avian friend, predating the TV show with George Reeves and the movies with Chris Reeve. “Cliffhangers,” they called ‘em.
BIRD: Any good?
BUFFALO: They’re high camp, written by alcoholic hacks and closet queens. In the current episode, the infamous Spider Lady is out to nail Superman.
BIRD: What, to shag him, like?
BUFFALO: No, you jerk-berk, to dust him, take him out, settle his hash, buy him a one-way ticket to Palookaville. Capice?
BIRD: One question... is she hot?
BUFFALO: Like a string of firecrackers, dude. She’s a Lana Turner look-alike in a sheer black Rita Hayworth fookme evening gown, festooned with sequins. Lovely bit of prime cleavage, too.
BIRD: Brilliant... but how are her stems?
BUFFALO: Dazzling, my feathered friend. Perfectly shaped calves, trim ankles, and a totally hot pair of black stiletto shag-me-all-night pumps from the golden age of Frederick’s of Hollywood.
BIRD: I would expect no less from a Spider Lady. Does she have special powers, like?
BUFFALO: Aye, the power to cloud men’s minds, make them drool like TV evangelists, stomp their hind feet like lovesick prairie dogs and bark at the moon like fevered coyotes in estrus.
BIRD: Is she deliciously evil an’ all?
BUFFALO: Is she ever, dude. Her parlor wall sports a giant electrified silver lamé spider web, for frying her enemies. Whoa! She just fried Professor Morgan’s hapless lab assistant, Short Circuit Leeds. And now it’s Lois Lane’s turn... she’s been snatched, blindfolded, kidnapped, and transported to the spider lair.
BIRD: Diabolical... is it Margot Kidder, then?
BUFFALO: I don’t think Margot was born then, dude. It’s Noel Neill, in her prime... a bit on the mousy side, but tasty - in a virginal librarian sort of way. She’s dressed rather severely, in one of those horrible professional womens’ business suits. Nice gams, though.
BIRD: The suspense is killing me.
BUFFALO: Lois is pleading now, “You don’t have to kill me. I’ve been blindfolded the whole time, there’s no way I could identify you!”
BIRD: Is the Spider Lady buying it?
BUFFALO: No way, dude. She says, “I might take a chance and let you go, if I didn’t know you’re a reporter. Did you really think we wouldn’t search your hand bag?” What a hoot. Uh, oh, the henchmen are tying Lois to the spiderweb.
BIRD: Good heavens, she’s not going to toast Lois, is she?
BUFFALO: Looks bad, Birdy. Lois is miffed now. “You’ll never get away with this!” she protests. “Superman can’t help you now,” the Spider Lady smirks. Gorgonzola, dude, she’s done it! She’s thrown the mothering switch! There’s really cheesy animated lightning bolts jumping all over Lois’s bod!
BIRD: Sounds absolutely grizzly, Buffo.
BUFFALO: No, no bears so far, but Lois is twitching like a bug on a hot plate, screaming blue murder.
BUFFALO: It’s not all bad... the old juice has caused her nips to go all articulated, like... which would be incredibly arousing if it wasn’t so comical. Ah, bloody hell, should have seen this coming - “Continued Next Week.”
BIRD: Gott und Gorgonzola!
BUFFALO: Indeed. I’ll keep you posted. Ten-four.
BIRD: No film at eleven, sigh.