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On the cover of the first, Spiderman wore a mask, gloves, and boots—and nothing else other than—apparently—body-paint. Dangling between his legs, you could clearly see his blue Spider Wang. Look out!

The X-Men wore leather and spandex like always, but mostly the kinds of clothing that left them swinging pretty free, and loose, like Polk Street bondage outfits. More like Polk Street bondage outfits than their normal costumes already looked that is.

Interestingly, Nightcrawler had two penises.

Penii?

Superman had a logo stuck on his bare chest, wore a cape, and boots, and rescued naked people. Like Nuderman, only it actually said ‘Superman’ on the cover. Batman wore a mask and a codpiece, and punched a nude bad guy. Wonder Woman had head and wrist bands, her pubic hair trimmed in the shape of a ’W’, and wrestled a nude woman painted with leopard spots who had a tail attached— somehow—just above her bare ass.

“Do you suppose these are special editions just for this town?” Morgan asked, becoming nervous. His lip quivered, and a few beads of sweat were creeping down his forehead.

I felt bad for him. His world was coming out from under him in the worst kind of way.

“No,” I said, trying to be gentle. “They’d never. If these got out to normal channels, the stockholders would freak.”

I opened another comic. And another. It didn’t matter which one I picked, everyone in them was, primarily, naked.

Ms. Waboombas came out brushing her teeth and looked over my shoulder.

“Cool,” she said, spitting foam. “Where’d those come from?”

She grabbed one of the comics and started leafing through it.

“Wow,” she said. “I should have done my comic like this. It would sell more.”

For many years, during the peak of comics production back in the forties, fifties, and sixties, there were cheaply produced little books called ‘Tijuana Bibles’ that crudely imitated popular comic strip heroes and characters of the time, only naked, and having copious amounts of sex. Mickey Mouse, Flash Gordon, Superman, Wonder Woman—you name it. These could have been something like that, but the quality was too high, the production values too expensive, and you didn’t usually find Tijuana Bibles in classy hotels. Even nudist hotels. Also, there was no sex in these comics. Or at least not much to speak of. It was more like whatever alternate universe they were based in just didn’t bother wearing clothes.

The thing in my brain finally took a bite. Ms. Nuckeby kept saying ‘your world’ as if it were an entirely different planet. None of us had ever heard of this place, in spite of the fact that it should be legendary. An entire town of nudists just south of the city…

A chill ran through me.

I dropped the comics and magazines onto the bed, and grabbed the television remote, clicking on the TV.

As it warmed up, we heard the president giving a typical speech. It was our president, no doubt. I would recognize that arrogant voice and lack of linguistic skill anywhere.

Then the picture emerged, and Waboombas gasped.

The President of the United States of America was naked.

Standing at a podium, positioned so we could see only his torso, stood George W. Bush. Naked. Behind him, all the loyal partisans clapped, and cheered, and smiled, nakedly.

Very, very, nakedly.

I nearly fell over onto the bed. Ms. Waboombas sat beside me, and we both continued watching with wide-eyes and open mouths.

“We are facin’ our greatest enemy!” the president said. “People who don’t like our way of life! Bad people! People with clothes, who want to see us in ‘em. Who want to see our women in ‘em. Bad people. Not good people. And God made it clear when He kicked Adam and Eve out of the Garden and said—basically, He said—don’t come back till you’re naked! So we need to bring democracy and freedom to the world, and make those people take off their clothes!”

The group behind him cheered, clapped, and held up signs that said ‘THE NAKED WAY IS THE AMERICAN WAY!’

“It’s another dimension,” I said.

“You mean the whole country is like this?” Waboombas asked.

“I think so.”

“Nobody wears clothes.