Surprisingly, the ice rink plan worked like a charm, except for the part where everyone involved eventually forgot they were there and we "discovered" them decades later, in the same manner you "discover" the stale condom you forgot about in the back of your Transformers wallet.
Related: Remember That 'Cursed' Scary Coffin? It's Filled With Sewage
Alan Moore's Lost Masterwork Survived As A Bad Photocopy
In 1988, after he revolutionized the whole medium of comics and wrote most of DC's future box office bombs, real-life Level 13 wizard Alan Moore decided he had enough of writing about buff people in tight spandex. So he started his own publishing company, Mad Love, aspiring to be the punk rock of comic books. And there's nothing more punk than stealing art because you thought it would look better on someone's terrible album cover.
At Mad Love, Moore started to work on a graphic novel called Big Numbers, a story about how the arrival of an American shopping center on the outskirts of a small British city affects its inhabitants lives, which also explores chaos theory and fractal geometry -- you know, regular comic book stuff.
Big Numbers had the potential to disrupt the entire industry and make people take comic books more seriously as literary endeavors. Or it could have, if original artist Bill Sienkiewicz hadn't been forced to withdraw and then been replaced by his teenage assistant, Al Columbia. That's because there was one little issue Columbia failed to mention in his job interview: He hated working on Big Numbers and wanted it gone. Feeling the graphic novel "might have been too clever" to be good, Columbia decided that the best thing he could do for himself and Moore was simply burn everything they had built to the ground. So in a fit of youthful madness, he took his original artwork, chopped it all up, and turned it into a collage for the cover of his roommate's dumb indie rock band, Sebadoh.
Dark Beloved CloudFurther proof that hipsters ruin everything.