On a surprisingly sunny day in New York City, Spider-Man found himself facing off against a new villain that seemed to have plunged right out of a Saturday morning cartoon. This was no ordinary foe -- it was Hydroman, a marvel of moist malevolence, a villain made entirely out of water. Yes, water. The kind you drink, shower in, or in Spider-Man's case, utterly struggle to punch. The fight commenced with Spider-Man swinging through the city, launching witty quips and webs with equal fervor. Hydroman, in turn, morphed his watery form into giant fists, crashing waves, and even spitballs, in an amusing attempt to drench Spider-Man's spider-spirit. The streets were soaked, onlookers drenched, and Spider-Man... well, he was practically doing the backstroke through the air. The battle raged on, minutes turning to what felt like slightly wetter minutes. Our web-slinging hero was at his wits' end. Every punch through Hydroman just splashed harmlessly. Every webbing attempt was like trying to tie knots with mist. Just as Spider-Man found himself considering if he could somehow negotiate a ceasefire with precipitation, inspiration struck. Not just any inspiration, but the kind that bubbles up from the depths of one's being (or bowels, to be precise). Spider-Man had a gas-tastically ridiculous idea--one that might just diffuse this soggy situation once and for all. In a moment of questionable heroism and definite desperation, Spider-Man enacted his plan. With the agility of a gymnast and the grace of a slightly embarrassed baboon, he executed a perfect flip, pulled down his suit just enough, and presented his bare posterior to Hydroman's aqueous visage. What followed was a fart of such monumental proportion, it would have made a skunk blush. It was a detonation of digestive discontent, a methane masterpiece, a symphony in the key of P.U.! As the heroic flatulence bubbled through Hydroman, the villain's watery form became visibly disturbed. It was as if the water itself was trying to escape the noxious cloud, but there was no fleeing the foul fragrance of Spider-Man's strategic release. In a matter of seconds (that surely felt longer for our olfactory assaulted villain), the once-mighty Hydroman had dissipated, defeated not by brute force, but by a brand of bio-chemical warfare that no one could have anticipated. As the air cleared, and the streets of New York were once again safe from aquatic assault, Spider-Man couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and profound embarrassment. As he redressed and prepared to swing away, a thought occurred to him - superhero work is often strange, but today was one for the books. And perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to invest in some anti-gas pills for the sake of future battles. After all, one can never know when one's digestive system might once again be called upon to save the day. And so, with the stench of victory still lingering, Spider-Man swung away, leaving a slightly less hydrated, and much more bewildered, New York City in his wake.