19

With easy hands, Mrs. Jameson fixes breakfast. She must serve her over-demanding husband, as long as she still has the will to bear how much that wedding ring strangles her left ring finger...

From the back of her skirt, still less than a thousandth his normal size, Spider-Man I stalks her. But Mrs. Jameson need not worry; while her appeal is still WAY too young for a man as old as Jameson, she's not his mission...

With the breakfast on a tray, she wanders upstairs, to the master bedroom. Spidey hangs from her skirt, as she goes along...

It's a long way down. It's even longer still, judging the stairs. Plus, Spidey can see the back of her feet from here...and not to mention her legs. A LOT of her legs...if only for split seconds at a time...

Jonah lies on a bed. His window is open. He smokes a huge cigar. He reads several issues of the Bugle at a time (they're all in a big pile, on the other side of his bed). He just HATES what Ms. Brant has done to his legacy... Then again, from what he's heard, a lot of his ex-jackasses are glad he's gone... Not that their opinion ever mattered to him. But then...it sure didn't change the fact that none of his photographers could ever catch Spidey in the act of committing actual crime...

His wife comes in. She coughs from the cigar smoke. Jonah smiles, puts the cigar in the ash tray, and sits back, as the wife puts the tray in front of him, in the bed, over his waist.

THIS is Spidey's opportunity. As much as he hates to, he swings under Mrs. Jameson's skirt, flashes some upskirt photos for later, and lands on the wooden platter. He won't deny that from down here, the wood smells good...

Once she's sure her man is comfy, Mrs. Jameson leaves him be. Alone at last, Jameson smokes and flips the bird at the Bugle, between bites of his breakfast...

Beneath his pajamas, he's acquired more than just a few symptoms of an old man. And that's what Peter's here to investigate...

Somehow, Spidey has infiltrated Mr. Jameson's kidney. There's a lot of fluid in here, but...he can't seem to figure out what Ms. Brant wants him to come in here for so badly...

A rock, as big as an asteroid, floats past him. It nearly hits Spidey. He swerves, and watches, gawking. Several more come out of hiding, and nearly hit Peter...

Automatically, the suit takes pictures. Apparently, the Bugle's old editor as a bit of a kidney stone problem...

Later on, Ms. Brant reads the latest edition of the Bugle. There's a picture of Mr. Jameson's many kidney stones on the front page, headlined by the caption, IS J. JONAH JACKASS TOO OLD TO CUT THE MUSTARD, FOR PRESSMAKING, OR JUST FOR STANDARD URINATION?

In Ms. Brant's ear, a gadget plays music. It plays Red Foley's and Ernest Tubb's "Too Old to Cut the Mustard..."

She giggles. "Ah, he's going to hate this SO much." She kisses her own hand, and blows across it. "New York thanks you, Peter."

A messenger comes in, and leaves a letter in Ms. Brant's mail basket. It's very thick, and has got Mr. Jameson's return address on it.

She tries to read the first three pages of her old boss's retaliating insults...but doesn't make it. And naturally, there are about a thousand more where that comes from.

The messenger confesses that they were all confused at first. They almost sent Mr. Jameson's envelope to a publishing house, because they thought it was a manuscript for a novel...

Ms. Brant giggles. "The day J. Jonah Jameson starts writing novels will be the day men start going through puberty at thirty." She looks around, with a sinister look. "Speaking of what..."

Another messenger comes in. She leaves a report in the "just in" box...

Ms. Brant arches her brows, grabs the report and reads it. She arches her brows, and gapes. And, she smiles. She traces her lips with her polished fingers, and giggles.

"Well now, Peter... It looks like I need your talents...again."

The report concerns OsCorp. Apparently, a test subject has escaped...which isn't very precedented, as rumor has it...