Authors: Peter David
At least he, Jameson, knew the truth.
Even if it never saw print . . .
ethics were satisfied.
Dear Mom and Dad:
Had a busy few hours.
I swung by the cemetery late this evening to visit with Uncle Ben,
and found some punks trying to trash the place. I scared the hell out of them, then I just hung out and talked with Uncle ben until the sun
came up.
Oh . . .
I saw Mary Jane the other day. I know she was hurt a little by what happened after Norman Osborn's funeral. She thinks I re
jected her. Or maybe she knows the truth about me, and is willing to
wait until I'm ready to tell her . . .
if ever. Man, I'd trade all these pow
ers for the ability to read minds.
You know . . .
last night . . .
when I was at the cemetery . . .
I told Uncle
Ben everything that was going on with me. The whole story. I mean, I've
been writing to you guys, so you've stayed in the loop, but Uncle Ben . . .
well, I figured he deserved to know. So I brought him up to speed.
Wasn't an easy thing to do. And no one can say I didn't warn him.
The story of my life isn't for the faint of heart. Like the man said, it's hard to be a saint in the city. And whatever life holds in store for me,
I now accept: I will never forget these words again . . .
"With great power comes great responsibility."
This is my gift. It's my curse.
Who am I?
I'm Spider-Man.