GDBM: Snowballs, spaghetti and smooches

[sigma7]

"Ah, good morning, sir. I was...ah, working out on...on your ballet beam. In my afro wig. As one does in the morning. Sir. Ahem."
"...Can I have cereal?"


I think the blank thought bubble about says it all.


"Sir! I clearly requested this time to use your computer to sell my Hummels on eBay!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Topeka. Hold on."


"There. Just stop with the stamping of feet and whining because it really doesn't become you, okay?"
"Of course, sir."


"Hrm. batmanbenchpress. I like it."


"Hee hee! Reading! I like it!"
"mutter mutter simpleton mutter mutter idle rich mutter one of these days mutter"


Physically, of course.


Because the test of the prototype bat-flamethrower went...on the advice of counsel, let us simply say "awry."


Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Asbestos Batman. Do not inhale.


"Vince! So good to see you!" *smooch smooch* "I feel more able and ready to deal with fires now!"
"Buh...?"
"Just nod and smile, Master Vince. He's...excited."
"Dude, I know, that's what I'm afraid of."


And guess who's become a rocket-armed quarterback since picking up ten body points? Yeah, you know who I'm talkin' about. Quarterback Goddamn Batman. RAR!


And yes, he can catch them, now, too. Don't let him hear you say he "should be an athlete" because a ballet dancer IS an athlete, goddammit!


You know, except for the snowball, this looks just like a Frank Miller pose.


How sneaky is Batman? He sneaks up on you with a snowball, dressed in black against a snowscape, when you're looking right at him. This is also canon.


"Look out, behind you! It's Grant Morrison!"



It's the grin that sells it for me.


"Dude, I so totally don't have any idea of what you were...."


"AAAUGHGOD WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME?"


"Oh, it's on now, you sick little monkey."


Yes, that's Goddamn Batman's ride waiting for him. But even the cutthroat world of ballet dancing can wait 58 minutes for a gratuitous snowball fight.



Let's just say that Goddamn Batman's methods of taunting his opponents is...distinct from his canonical counterpart.



With Goddamn Batman's ten body points, we're lucky the snowball didn't shoot straight through Vince.



After half an hour Vince hasn't hit Goddamn Batman once, and Vince has been pummeled into a bruised, frostbitten piece of neighbor meat.


Honestly, I don't know which of these messages is more baffling.


"Please, if you want to discuss the challenging aspects of dance theater, don't talk to me until you've tried a revue in five-inch heels. Shannon, you know Shannon, three years ago she went down in a heap, snap, and we were all thinking it was her shoe, right...?"
"How's the salad?"
"Perfectly pedestrian."
"Great!"


Batman. Nuances. Charisma. *shrug* I don't know where to start.


When you leave your carpool waiting for fifty minutes, an accelerated little jog through the snow is the least you can do.


Just so we're on the same page here, this is Mister Infinity, not the Infinite Man, not Infinity-Man.


Now this might've actually happened in the '70s. Or maybe in the Superdictionary.


Goddamn Batman and I would say the same thing: "I have absolutely no idea of what you're talking about."


Batman brings another friend (!) from work home: Doug Dangerous, who's absolutely rockin' that hairdo.


Okay, the white-haired guy stopped by the house and was invited in and just chatting in the living room when Goddamn Batman made...this face. You might recognize it as the face canon-Batman uses when talking to his best and closest friends.


Aaaaaand then the medication kicks back in.


It's not the scowl here, it's not the narrowed eyes, it's the petulant hands-on-hips action. "Take that back! Rent was awesome! You cannot deny the spirit and the unity of emotion and movement!"


I forgot who he's calling here. It could be notification of legal action, it could be the IRS, it could be Ace the Bat-Hound caught in a bear trap -- the dude's just happy to be on the phone.


How do we know Makoto's feeling better toward Goddamn Batman? Salmon.


"...'Call my mom?' I can't call my mom...because...my parents are deeeeeeeead!"


Goddamn Batman's new ride. Note that this sporty little red number doesn't have quite the trunk room to carry all Goddamn Batman's paternal issues.


Enter the Bat-tu-si.


"And now I can cook all on my own and Plaxico won't have to do a thing! He'll be so proud of me!"


"You know what I like? Blocks. They're wood, they've got really fantastic colors on them, I mean, they're really bright colors, and you can stack them on top of each other -- well, two or three or sometimes four. I can't quite get five. I almost did, once but...how's the spaghetti?"


"Oh. My. God. My favorite thing is pretty dresses!"
(I'll spare you the details; suffice it to say this night the Dark Knight struck out.)


The spoken-word version of "Batdance" proved to be more challenging than Goddamn Batman counted on.


Oh, you know Goddamn Batman's going there at some point. How can it be anything less than excruciating?


Did you know that September 20th is Tickle-the-Butler Day in the continental 48 states? It's true. Never really caught on among the lower class, which is a shame. (Maybe it's a euphemism.)


Goddamn Batman jazz hands. Yes, he's almost there, almost at the pinnacle of...dancing, I guess. But nobody laughs at the tap dancers, unless they want to get a snowball thrown through their skull, I guess.

Next time? No idea, though I'm toying with the idea of the Baroness buying a gun.

Comments

[sigma7.livejournal.com]

Oh, hai! And one of these days I'll get around to updating GDBM, too. It...didn't go quite as I expected.