That's right New York City. No longer will you be afraid to ride the subway after 1:00 am. No longer will you have to abide by the "no park after dark" rule of thumb. No! The Night Cobra is heading out into the night to strike fear into the unsavory element of our fair city.

While I have previously renounced violence in my life - knocked some kid out in a pick-up basketball game in college, felt bad, been on my best behavior ever since - as a younger man, I could hold my own in a scrap. With the need for a crime fighter in New York City, I am renouncing my renouncement. My mitts are ready to get back into the action. The local dojo has taken me in to sharpen up my skills. I'm brushing up on Kung Fu, Tae Kwon Do, Jeet Kune Do and Hong Kong Phooey. Deal with that punks!

The first step was coming up with a name. This was a harder task than I anticipated. It seemed every potential moniker I Googled had already been used. Everything with wolf or fox or jackal in it has already been snapped up. It appears there already is a "Spider Man." Weird.

Then I thought of the cobra. The spitting cobra to be exact. That hooded menace. That rouge reptile. When confronted, the cobra spreads it's hood and coils to strike. Fear! That is what I will become. A dangerous, poisonous vigilante.

With the name set, next on the docket was my outfit. I dialed up a martial arts outfitter on the web and ordered a ninja outfit. Then went to a Phantom of the Opera fansite and ordered a cape. I figure what the hell is the point of being a superhero without a cape. It would be like ordering apple pie without melted cheddar cheese on top. That's just stupid. I'll have a cape. I took the bottom part off the ninja mask, exposing my mouth. There is an order in for some custom "cobra fangs" for dramatic effect. A prototype Venom Spitter is being developed so I can spew poison onto the eyes of the bad guys just like the spitting cobra. Still working the kinks out of that one. I've had to keep the ipecac at the ready while experimenting. I also have glowing red contact lenses. Good luck not being frightened of that potential predator!

My utility belt will be stocked with some crime fighting necessities.

Such as;

Cobra-Fanged Throwing Stars - I'm practicing in our building hallway. Almost hit the target last night. (Sorry about that star in the calf Mr. Bevilacqua. I really am.)

Sodium Pentothal - Truth serum. Maybe I won't beat a confession out you scumbag mugger. You'll tell me what I want to know. Believe me, you'll tell me.

Metro Card - What? I'm gonna take a cab? Who am I, Bruce Wayne?!?

Handcuffs - I may have to leave some crooks cuffed to parking meters until the 5-O shows up. I have crimes to stop, can't wait around. Chain 'em to the meter and disappear like a fart in the wind.

One of Those Grappling-Hook-Gun-Thingees - May come in handy. And they're pretty cool.

Twin Collapsing Metal Batons - To beat your head in Mr. Drug Dealer. To beat your head in.

Prilosec and Tums - Even The Night Cobra can't stop acid reflux.

So, the outfit is set.

I've sent letters to the Police Commissioner and Mayor, telling them of my intentions. I need the politicians on my side. The media needs to be an ally as well. I've struck a handshake deal with an idealistic young reporter at the New York Post to be my press contact and unofficial photographer. Jimmy Parker is gonna be a media star.

Pretty sure I need a theme song. It seems more professional. I have a call in to Danny Elfman. Once we work out the merchandising rights, he's in. John Williams passed. He wanted to concentrate on "more historically based and/or boy wizard theme songs." Rat bastard.

Now for The Night Cobra Headquarters. We live on the ground floor. Outside a back door of our building and down a steel staircase is an illegal squatters dwelling. We think. It's a mystery to us. As afar as we can tell, it's a not an authorized apartment. Not even sure if they have plumbing. From the outside, it appears the whole place is jury-rigged together with chewing gum and chicken wire. We see half a dozen different people, maybe more, moving in and out of there. Mysteriously. I'm going to flush out the cast from The Hills Have Eyes with smoke bombs and commandeer the basement. That will be my crime stopping center of operations. If I get a good power-saw, I figure we can cut a big hole in the floor and install a sweet fireman's pole. It's going to be really fun. From normal Upper West Side apartment to state-of-the-art Night Cobra Headquarters just by sliding down a brass pole.

My crusade is not going to be cheap. There will be a need for a few fundraisers. Probably a number of Live Aid-like concerts. And I'll have a website that will have a Pay Pal account for donations. From there, I plan on franchising The Night Cobra. Like Tyler Durden and his Fight Clubs. If you feel you would like to become your own night-patrolling vigilante, please send a resume and cover letter to the YBNBY head offices and Raoul (our intern) will review them.

Now to the final step in becoming a scourge to the rotten and cruel in this city. I'm working on the throaty delivery of intimidating one-liners. That's how superheroes talk.

I've been working on gems like these in the mirror;

"Better catch the next train."

"This ATM is deposit only."

"School is out, sucker!"

"Say no to crack. The crack in your skull!"

and,

"Your better tell your mom you'll be late for supper."

I am ready to hit the rain-slicked streets and the subway stations and parks. As The Night Cobra, I vow to protect the streets from the vermin that infest them.

You've been warned. Punks.