craveonline

By Zach Oberman

Superhero Diaries: Green Lantern The Superhero Diaries – brought to you by those who wear their underpants on the outside. The following is based on Green Lantern #27, written by Geoff Johns, who is pretty freaking amazing when it comes to writing comic books.

---

Author: Hal "Better Than Michael" Jordan Mood: Frustrated Listening to: Guns N' Roses / Use Your Illusion

Interesting day down at the station house today. But first, a quick rundown in case you've never heard of me. I'm a member of the Green Lantern Corps, which means I'm like the universe's version of a cop. We have these rings that make big green objects in whatever shape we can think of. If that sounds dinky, it's only because you've never pissed yourself at the sight of a green Tyrannosaurus Rex, sixteen stories tall.

In the Corps, I see myself as Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon - the rebellious cop who lives on the edge, has nothing to lose, and bones a lot of chicks. The stodgy old police captain is played by The Guardians, a race of superpowered blue-skinned dwarves. They're always trying to get me to follow orders, obey the rules, and generally be less awesome. Well, sometimes, in order to uphold the law, you gotta break all the rules. (That's the tagline I came up with in case they ever make a movie about me – sweet, huh?)

Our precinct house is the planet Oa. It's a planet, but it's also like a battery for our rings. It used to be at the center of the universe, but a little over a year ago, an interdimensional crisis, like… shifted the universe. Now Oa's not in the center. I'm not really clear on the details because I leave that stuff for the paper-pushers. I do REAL police work - on the streets. All you need to know about Oa is that now it's a lot harder to give someone directions there.

So as I was saying, yesterday I was hanging out at the precinct. It was me and John Stewart – not the Daily Show guy, but another one of the Green Lanterns from Earth. FYI: he's black, but before you think that automatically makes him the Danny Glover to my Mel Gibson, you should know that he gets pissed when I ask him to say, "I'm getting too old for this shit." Anyway, we were having a cup of coffee when the giant green shit hit the giant green fan.

A Lantern had killed a man in cold blood. (I keep telling everyone that we need more codes. I mean, if we're really a police squad, I should be able to say something like: "A perp came in, DOA on a 467." It makes you sound official. This is why no one takes us seriously. We also need badges. Only drag queens recognize rings as a symbol of authority.)