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Last Update: 07.25.05

Fantastic 4

Stretch Armstrong: So, uh...

Mr. Fantastic: Don't say it.

Stretch Armstrong: I was just going to say...

Mr. Fantastic: Don't.

Stretch Armstrong: That movie was...less than fantastic.

Mr. Fantastic: I never realized how hard acting can actually be. I mean, being a super hero is hard—you have to go around trying to find ways to save the day despite the fact that your super powers are incredibly lame and nonpowerful, but acting—acting's a whole 'nother beast.

Stretch Armstrong: Yeah, no kidding. Apparently I was so bad in auditions, they didn't even give me a speaking role. They fell in love with my manly physique, though, so they made me a stunt double.

Mr. Fantastic: Whoa, wait a minute—YOU were my stunt double? They said they were contracting it out to some Chinese Martial Arts Studio or something! I can't believe they thought you could do my stunts better than I could!

Stretch Armstrong: Hey, just chalk it up to the manly physique. There's nothing you could do.

Mr. Fantastic: I can't believe this. Everything's gone wrong. My first big movie tanks, you took the parts I should have had, my wife won't even TALK to me...

Stretch Armstrong: What's the trouble there?

Mr. Fantastic: Well, she's been claiming that we're not actually married. I figured she was just pulling that cute invisibility stunt like she always does, but now she's saying that I just set an empty wedding dress on the altar and forged her signature on the marriage license. It's been a source of tension in our marriage...she put up a forcefield around the house and won't let me in.

Stretch Armstrong: What a load of BS. She was there, right? She's just making all of that up?

Mr. Fantastic: Well in hindsight, she was kind of quiet during the ceremony. And if she's telling the truth, then the honeymoon's the really embarassing part.

Stretch Armstrong: Dude, that's just pathetic. If I were you, which I pretty much am, I'd just kill myself.

Mr. Fantastic: Oh right, that's the other thing that's been wrong. The Human Torch killed himself. He asked to be cremated, we're scattering his ashes in his mom's garage sometime next week. He said that's always where he felt the most at home.

Stretch Armstrong: Man, I'm sorry to hear that...you know, I was planning on keeping this all to myself, but you sound like you need some serious cheering up. Here, check this out.

Mr. Fantastic: 1-900...E-L-A-S-T-I-C? What is this?

Stretch Armstrong: I think you remember.

Mr. Fantastic: There's no way this is her phone number—this is a sleazy 900 number.

Stretch Armstrong: Says here, "I'll bend over backwards to please you." Get it? No way it's fake.

Mr. Fantastic: Dude, you're about as gullible as Sheep Man.

Stretch Armstrong: She tells me to call her every day, I'd say things are getting pretty serious...

Mr. Fantastic: In fact, I don't think it would be a stretch to say you're the dumbest person alive.

Bad Joke Police: All right everybody, freeze! That's enough puns out of you!

Stretch Armstrong: Crap! Run for your life! I'll stall them here by telling them about the 3 hookers you killed last week!

Bad Joke Police: I don't think so! You're coming with us! *handcuff Mr. Fantastic* You know, your kind don't do so hot in the slammer. Enough time in solitary and most superheroes just snap and turn into mimes.

Stretch Armstrong: Hey man, remember: they give you one phone call. I think you know what to do.

Mr. Fantastic: If brain cells were slugs, you'd be a block of salt. Anyway, don't worry—I'm double-jointed, I'll be out of these cuffs in no time. Just do the rating and finish the review without me.

Stretch Armstrong: Finish without him, huh? I think I can do that...let's see here..."Stretch Armstrong's manly physique saves the Fantastic 4 from utter failure. 'Armstrong makes me hot!' say Ebert and Roper. 'That guy should do commercials' raves the NY Times! Instead of seeing this movie, just mail your money straight to Stretch Armstrong." 4 out of 4 terrible movies based on comic books.