Booster Gold 26

This really wasn't Michael's night.

The Justіce League's annual winter party was in full swing. Thinking himself very clever, he'd practically camped the mistletoe in hopes that someone (anyone) would bite. When nobody did, he'd figured perhaps a change of method was in order, and whipped out the ingenious hat he'd brought for precisely this occasion. Surely people would've noticed the cap with mistletoe dangling from it and fallen all over themselves for the chance to kiss him, right?

Wrong. Nobody had. Dispirited, Michael had taken a seat alone at a table. After inhaling a concerning amount of pudding, he'd been approached by a gorgeous blonde who'd pointed at his stylish hat and given him his first (only) peck of the night! At last his luck had turned around! Or so he'd thought, anyway, until he noticed Ted peeking out from behind a pillar. When confronted, his friend had admitted to convincing the beautiful lady (by means of copious amounts of money) to do it.

Once again dispirited, Michael, having put away his hat, trudged out of the venue for some fresh air and leaned dejectedly against a lamppost. A terrible idea; it was colder than a witch's...bosom, and now his forehead was stuck. Immediately he jerked away. Another terrible idea; now he had a conspicuous wound on his forehead as a badge of shame.

Grumbling, he kicked at a pebble on the ground. "Christmas miracle my a—" The words died in his throat as he watched the pebble arc through the winter air and hit a passerby squarely in the face. "Oh. Oh god," he mumbled as he rushed over in a panic, his woes forgotten. "I'm so sorry! Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" This was the worst night of his life. Probably.