OK, SO. Here goes nothing. 

With their secret identities still hidden from view, Fistrejya and Super Shorts had had enough of the education being bludgeoned into their brains from the basement of a freshman dorm. By this point, the struggle for the power outlets had turned into a bonding experience. One day, Fisty (as her admirers called her), decided to invite Super Shorts for some drinks with friends. Accompanied by Quizzie and Nil the Not-so-easy-EZ-Pass Queen, the four went to the most redneck bar in all of New Jersey - or at least that's what Super Shorts thought at the time. Thankfully, due to the redneckery of the bar, Fleetwood Mac soon came onto the juke box. Without a moments hesitation - and aided by the copious amounts of booze - the friends echoed the lyrics to Rhiannon until deep into the night. Feeling like a true team, the gang decided to buy tickets to Fleetwood Mac on the way home. It was settled, they were going to be friends for a long time, or someone was going to be out $80!

But alas, the story must get worse before it gets better. The morning of the show, Fisty texted SuperShorts with an odd request: "Um...so I may or may not have left the tickets in my apartment in Highland Park... and I may or may not be in Philly already." SuperShorts sprung into action. With a little less than an hour before he was supposed to leave for the show, he jumped into the SuperShorts mobile (it's super because its in dire need of repair yet continues to run) and drove to Highland Park. After getting the key from the safe, SuperShorts entered Fisty's home. Upon entering, he was floored at the color, greenery, and care that had gone into such a quaint apartment. "I will live here one day," SuperShorts thought - although he did not know why. The unconscious is a weird place. 

With the tickets in hand, Fisty, Quizzie, and SuperShorts met in Philly and rocked the F*CK out. Another day saved by our heroes. 

(you weren't kidding, Chrome sucks for BitStrips)