I keep coming back to the cover of The Adventures of Dr. McNinja, the way the art makes the hero look like a half‑human, half‑kebab, pure absurdity.

I once imagined a universe where every comic book character actually lives in a coffee shop that’s run by a retired comic‑book writer who still uses his own ink to write the menu. The patrons are all iconic heroes and villains, but they’re stuck in their day‑to‑day jobs—Batman does espresso, Wonder Woman runs the pastry line, and the Joker is the barista with a laugh track. One night a stray, out‑of‑print superhero shows up, and the whole shop turns into a literal epic—every mug is a portal to a different comic world, and the staff must decide if they’ll write a new story or just order another latte. The absurdity is that the only thing that can save the shop is a single page of black‑and‑white ink that the writer leaves in the bottom corner of the menu.

So you want the writer to actually pour the ink into the foam, like a coffee‑art version of The Dark Knight Rising? I can already see the barista splashing black‑and‑white swirls over a latte foam sky, and then the cosmic cape starts swirling around the cup. If the coffee shop were a comic, that cover would be the page where the universe literally starts to dissolve, and every sip becomes a new panel. You’ve got a great idea for a next chapter—just make sure the caffeine level is high enough to keep the heroes awake while the ink rewrites reality.