• Welcome! The TrekBBS is the number one place to chat about Star Trek with like-minded fans.
    If you are not already a member then please register an account and join in the discussion!

Late One Night at Stately Wayne Manor....

Guy Gardener

Guy Gardener

Fleet Admiral
Admiral
Part One,

Fall. 1969.

O’Hara (Stafford Repp) knew his limits constitutionally, but there was no good reason to stop drinking yet since he was practically still obeying the speed limit, no matter how tight the corners were that he was pulling on shale to keep up with the Penguin’s grimacing goons, because this was the great experiment... No pompous Cowled know it all bat-bugger (Adam West) needs to solve impossible riddles after the fact anymore, not when Clancy O’Hara, the greatest law man ever, can just wait outside Gotham Penitentiary, for one of these crazy criminals to escape, follow them to their secret pun blanched hideout, then spy on the damned hooligans while they put their dirty scheme together, keeping an eye on them, while they’re still brainstorming, 2 steps ahead of the Joker(Caesar Romero), the Riddler or Bookworm (Roddy McDowell).

The Chief’s thoughts are ablaze with the four Fs “Faith begorra! Follow! Photograph! Film!” And when he’s absolutely sure, unless there’s a modicum of doubt, beat a confession out of a henchman with a lead pipe, maybe take out a few teeth, then mother McKinty, the entire dastardly design will unspool, and it will be Clancy O’Hara who will have the right knack to talk down to Batman and solve the next set of puzzles first, and then maybe the Commissioner will give him the medal for meritorious honour of answering the Riddler’s (John Astin) riddles or the Puzzlers’ (Maurice Evans) puzzles before that bratty boy wonder (Burt Ward) makes him look like an ignorant Irish idiot again.

This is when things start to get weird though, Clancy skids his police car to a stop near the ridge of Finger look out, James Dean (James Dean) was a pussy, where the police chief could get some dreary hairy eyeballs on his pompous prey, the Penguin, who is scaling down the alpine backside of the rear end of Stately Wayne Manor, with a grappling umbrella, which is nothing but a Bat sanctuary Wild Life preserve, that playboy millionaire Bruce Wayne (Adam West, again, wait? That could be important. Put a pin in it.) likes to Hunt-out with dynamite. No one respects anyone that pretty. Wayne deserves a rude awakening from someone who looks like a leg of mutton, like Chief O’Hara does, if womanizing Millionaire Bruce Wayne is in cahoots with that avian scourge the Penguin, then maybe Clancy can beat some answers to the King of Crime’s Riddles, out of a handsome millionaire spending far too much time courting a meek dainty librarian who is not far too young for the chief?

Skating down a Gaping Chasm after a felonious fowl? Pull the other one it’s got bells on, Clancy finishes his flask, gets behind the wheel, steps on the accelerator and aims for the front door of stately Wayne Manor. Which is exactly what he does, sure it’s 15 minutes later at 75 mph, but his police vehicle, mildly armoured, it is designed to bust through walls, people and other cars. Siren blaring, fender caving in against the vault face Wayne calls a 12 inch thick door, O’Hara rolls out of his crumpled police vehicle, still relentlessly trying to penetrate the primary orifice of Stately Wayne Manor, shooting at the edifice “That’s what you fecking get for sneaking up on me you bollocking gobshite!!”
 
Part Two.

Alfred (Alan Napier) who borrows the master bedroom when Master Bruce is out of the country, awoke to a clamour that can only be a home invasion by super villains, again, like an alert meerkat, in his underwear, boxers and a wife beater, standing on the expansive bed, looming over his woman, Aunt Harriet (Madge Blake) wrapped in silk sheets, barely sleeping through the din, reaching for the chandelier with a fire place poker to where his trousers were hanging, activates his belt buckle batcall signal to get Barbara on the case before some legion of the Master Batman’s Rogue’s Gallery braying to get in, by taking the front door off its hinges, wakes up his lady.

Too late.

“Alfred! Alfred! What’s happening! Save me Alfred! Save me!?” Harry is an easily unsettled doll, which makes this over protective daddy flex his entire upper body and put on his game face, but trust me, you don’t want to see this 6 foot 6 colossus of domestic purposes get angry because he cleans clocks like a professional. Alfred used to murder indiscriminately for King and country during the war, and right now, sweet and darling Harriet Cooper is his Queen, so if she is any danger at all, heads will roll, then get stomped on like a water melon after Halloween.
 
Part Three.

Clark (George Reeves) can’t sleep because Lois (Noel Niell) snores. She’s 5 rooms away but he’d been born on another planet, which affords him super senses. Lana (Janet Waldo) doesn’t snore. Clark misses Lana. Her hair was red like Rao, the sun hanging over his long dead home planet. Maybe he could work out some arrangement where he spends his days in love with Lois and his nights in love with Lana? If anyone could get away with having two wives, it would be Superman, although... Lying is wrong, so there’s to be no more thought about making love to two women intermittently or at the same time. At the same time!!?? Clark wonders if he just invented something new which he’d never seen the cows do on the farm back in Smallville? X-Ray vision shows a lard ass soaking in gin and cigar ash walking up to the front door, an even larger well dressed fatso with a cigarette holder trying to penetrate the Batcave below, a Leather bound woman with entirely perfect proportions jimmying a lock to the kitchen, a second woman in even tighter leather trying to force her way from the roof with a pinch bar, and really? A spectacularly deformed man with a head the shape of a boiled egg had already found and cracked a safe in Bruce’s study. How long had he been asleep? Half a dozen criminals converging on his location, while the last son of Krypton was dreaming about fishing with both his fathers.

My two dads.

It seems like a bad idea to have Superman rear up here in Gotham so far from the Man OF Tomorrow’s regular stomping ground, because Lois might accidentally put two and two together, and wonder why Superman is following her. Clark needed a disguise, so accoutrement which would hide the Superman-ness of his desire to do good and protect his one day wife. Luckily Clark could see dozens of cashes all over Stately Wayne Manor stocked full of Batman costumes, Bat-Widgets, Bat-Gadgets and Bat girdles, that were almost in his size. It wouldn’t be impossible to pass himself off as Batman? Criminals are of course a cowardly and superstitious lot, which should perfectly protect his own secret identity.

This sounds like a job for Batman!
 
Last edited:
Part Four.

Prowling Patience Phillips (Ertha Kitt) needed to prove that she was the rrrrrrreal Catwoman. Wayne has some primo loot Catwoman thinks to herself, nothing overtly Cat-Themed, but therrrrrrrrrrrre’s going to be zero issues making her rent in her Wayne Tower Penthouse this month. Such a delicious irony that that fool Wayne is paying himself to keep her in the lap of luxurrrrrrrrrrrrrrry. Breaking into Stately Wayne Manor every three weeks is getting a little tirrrrrrresome; maybe she should just Date the philanthropist playboy millionairrrrrrre and cut out all the busywork? She can think of far less attractive men to use as a scratching post.

Patience’s great grandfatherrrr chained up to another dozen sold men, broke his back for the Waynes building this estate, so Patience feels zero guilt tasking her fill of gold and silver trinkets heavily peppering the labyrinthine valleys of bookshelves and end tables across the immense dimensions of Stately Wayne Manor. White people are idiots, it will take months to clear this hive of junk and pawn it. Maybe she should probably hire a few trucks?
 
Part Five.

For a Chief of Police who has not passed an insurance Physical in 15 years without greasing a few palms, Clancy is haranguing the front door like a crazy person or a spurned lover who wants his kids back, expressively stating his pickled frame of mind “Wake up Wayne! This is your Judgement day by thunderation! I know what you’re doing in there, so get out your ding dang cheque book!” Foolishly feeling no limitations, O’Hara is kicking in a 4 hundred year old 8 inch walnut doorway that is probably half portcullis, even if it’s already only half crushed through by a collision with a pranged up lit Police cruiser, so his knee cap pops out, and the Chief falls on his ass: “Mother McKilty!”

Alfred releases the bolts keeping the riff raff out of Stately Wayne Manor, opening his night to a loud maw of drunken blaring overweight unshowered confusion. “Good evening Chief O’Hara. Master Wayne is otherwise indisposed on the Dark Continent. If you would care to return at a later date, during business hours, I will refrain from informing the mayor that you are an embarrassment of riches, past ready for retirement, with or without your pension.” Alfred, ever the perfect gentleman, crosses the distance between the front door and this ongoing human traffic accident, offering his hand to the felled public servant, trying to hide an ingrained dislike of the Irish and how they always smell of potato.

The brutish balloon in blue is not interested in defusing the situation, smacking off Alfred’s hand of fraternity “You don’t understand! Mother MacCreel! The fix is on! Millionaire Bruce Wayne must have been paying the Penguin and the rest to steal things all along! He’s the crime boss, above all other crime bosses, it’s been Millionaire Bruce Wayne all along who has been trying to destroy my beloved Gotham City. You’re all racketeers! Put your hands up! I’m bringing you in!” Which is when Gotham’s finest tub of goo starts shooting at Stately Wayne Manor again, shattering a few windows, and Alfred Pennyworth’s patience for idiots.
 
Part 6.

Nobody owned Irena Dubrovna (Julie Newmar), least of all Bruce Wayne’s money, charm or that tiny angry worm he was over compensating for with an atomic powered rocket car. Their arrangement left Dubrovna content and free, to be the woman she always aspired to be: A hedonist curled up in a borough of treasure and treats. The felonious feline slipped out a vent, tucked into a roll, tumbling along a three hundred year old carpet that Teddy Rosevelt once passed out on, and then thought that she was crawling into bed with her proud old Bat, who'd fought so very hard not to fall in love with all her slinky curves, which is when Aunt Harriet started screaming because an unexpected weirdo woman in leather was trying to spoon her tenderly, which is more than the poor sexagenarian can take!
 
Part 7.

In the reserve library, the handsomely deformed arch villain Egghead (Vincent Price) is raking up a Pigpen-esque dust-cloud from speed reading an old timey hen-cyclopedia printed from before they decided to omit the extremely racist bunk, is about to match wits with houseguest and man of two worlds Clark Kent, who is already ingeniously disguised inside one of Millionaire Bruce Wayne’s spare Batman (Oh that’s it! Bruce Wayne is Batman! DOH!) night-camo fatigues, to protect his own far more important secret identity as the Man of Steel. Oh, I’m sorry, did I not tell you that this simple farm boy is Superman, strange visitor from another planet, who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman, who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American way?

Yeah, that guy.

Clark under a black hood gets the mastermind’s attention “Egghead!”

Reclining leisurely man about town, mirrors appropriately and accurately “Superman!”

“No, I’m Batman.” Clark is terrified that this clever disguise is not working.

Egghead lights a cigar “I really don’t think so, you’re such a practical yolker.”

Superman puffs his chest out and lowers his voice 4 octaves “I’m Batman.”

“You are Superman dressed as Batman. I’m the smartest man in the world, and you are Superman.”

(Cough-cough) Clark notes the irony that his super senses make him more vulnerable to cigar smoke than a hail of bullets “No I’m not. (Cough) You can’t prove anything.”

Egghead lays out the full English breakfast “You’re an Eggstraterrestial with eggs ray vision.”

“Wow. Wow, wow, wow.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, Super villains are not funny.

“I’m really proud of that one.”

“It doesn’t matter... Fiend!” Clark gives up “He talks like that right?”

“The Bat is a ham.”

This is how it works in Metropolis, he acts like he is super, and villains instantly surrender. What the heck is wrong with the rogues in Gotham? “The point is that you are a well known super criminal up to no good, burglarizing stately Wayne Manor, home of international Playboy Millionaire Bruce Wayne, and I will stop you.”

“Look Clark, can I call you Clark?”

“Nope. Not Clark. I’m Batman.”

Egghead takes on a serious tone, and truly burrows into the Superman with, with most powerful weapon of all: The truth: “Clark, Bruce and I have an arrangement, sometimes I give him a few hours head start before something truly awful happens. Neither of us care about money, but if the Joker steals an earthquake machine and millions of people are going to die, I step in, and do the absolute bare minimum, because at the end of the day I am a sunny side up sorta guy. You’re not going to rock the boat? Eggs-cellent. So this is what is going to happen, I’m going to give you a million dollars worth of eggsposition, and then I am going to eggstricate myself with that million dollar painting above the mantelpiece under my arm. No harm no fowl.”

The delicate frayed balance of larceny and law enforcement in Gotham is bitter to the scent of an honest Metropolite, but Kal-El The last son of Krypton might not have another choice other than to bend to the desires of this very well dressed criminal “Get cracking Egghead! What’s the caper?”
 
Is something of value getting poached? Or some heads getting cracked? Will innocent people be fried in a fire? Or have to scramble for their lives? This is no yolk... I mean joke!

Never mind me, I'm just egging you on.
 
egghead%202.png
 
Part 8.

4 spent laser umbrellas later, Penguin had finally burned his way through Stately Wayne Manor’s rear security barricades, a Maginot line of doom, into this retrenched sub basement rodent-hive garage, and Submarine pen... How many Submarines do you have to own to need an entire pen? The rest of the decor did not make sense, unless... Oslwad Cobblepot, professional bow tie collector, cannot believe his amblyopic eye: The giant penny from an infamous Penny Plunderer’s pilferage, Murray Hart’s robotic Dinosaur from Dinosaur Island, and the damn Batmobile just as tricked out as the original. Where would Millionaire Bruce Wayne find a Batmobile replica? Unless the holy of holies top secret Bat Cave is under Stately Wayne Manor! Which can only mean that the most nebulous secret that had been mystifying criminal underworld of Gotham County had finally been answered by this clever old bird... Bruce Wayne’s Youthful Ward Dick Grayson must be the Batman!

Enter stage upstairs.

“CLARK! CLARK! I woke up and you weren’t in your room, and I found a secret passage behind a clock and Clark! Clark! Are you down here?”Lois is still descending on a winding ancient mossy stairwell and has not seen the innards of this orgy of Bat incrimination downstairs as yet, because she’s quite concerned that that simple dopey farmboy has gotten himself into a world of trouble staying overnight at Stately Wayne Manor, while it’s handsome master is strip mining inner Cambodia for cobalt and virgins, when Lois might have been finally willing to give Smallville a leg over since they are on Holliday, and the Butler was spoken for, and what’s the tourism motto for Gotham? “Gotham, a hell of a town, get your shots” But she can’t find him. It’s damn unsettling how Clark Kent a bumbling hayseed nitwit, disappears all the time as soon as she just wants to spend 20 minutes necking with some brute with huge meaty shoulders, although there’s a strong possibility that at the bottom of this well, Lois is going to find millionaire Bruce ”international playboy” Wayne’s private sex dungeon. Golly what a story! I’d have to fly Jimmy in, with a special wide angle lens to photograph the rainbow of sex swings, floggers, and muzzles. Nothing is as page one, above the fold as a respected millionaire’s secret dirty sleazy kink.

Almost nothing.

Framed by the gothic pendant lighting, Mr. Cobblepott recognizes the winsome lady barely covering herself in a tiny slip instantly “As I live and breathe Lois Lane! (nghh! Ngyhh! Hnngh!)”

Lois recoils from the world’s least sexiest siren call with some alarm “Penguin!” and tries to scoot back the way she came...

“Run and I’ll crack your spine like toast, not even “Clark” will be able to save you... Oh? You don’t mean Clark Kent? Intrepid reporter of a great metropolitan newspaper? I LOVE HIM! You’re spunky little woman Lois, playing smart in a man’s word, but Clark Kent and I are birds of a feather! His writing makes me feel like a better man! I love you honey, but where is Mr Kent?”

Lois doesn’t want to run away anymore. She crosses the distance between where she is standing and the bizarrely armed half pint, poking him in the nose with her finger, yelling at the waddling master of foul play “Look shorty! I am the Intrepid reporter of a great metropolitan newspaper, Clark Kent just hold’s my purse while I get things done. Do you understand!? I wear the pants! I wear all the pants!” she looks down at her bare knees and slippers “Usually I wear the pants, and when I wake up tomorrow at a reasonable hour, I’m going to put some more pants on!”

The penguin is definitely falling in love with this myopic miss “Where are we Lois Lane!?”

“Bruce Wayne’s Sex Dungeon!”

“No my sweet, Batman’s Batcave!”

“No! What? Oh my giddy aunt...” Lois Lane takes in her complete bat-surroundings and baulks “This is the story of the century.”
 
Part 9.

Selina Kyle (Lee Meriwether) is a poor woman’s Catwoman, which is rich, considering how quickly she can crack a safe, but fighting Batman and Robin? That’s just not how a debutante behaves herself in the season. Fortunately on a girls night with Millie Second (Eileen O'Neill), a gorgeous gal who can really knock back a Manhattan, explained that all you got to do to avoid a black eye is make Batman horny. If you’re adjusting your wrack constantly, the blood rushes from the dynamic duo’s fists, and they’re both tripping over their own tongues, trying to play it cool, because Millie suspects that the big bad Batman is probably a frightened homely Virgin, but this was a straight B&E not Super-Crime, so Stately Wayne your time is up, Catwoman is going to... Opps!

“Holy felonious feline!!!” Young master Dick had woken to the frightful storm of the drunk Irishman downstairs, so he was on his way to the kitchen to simmer some milk, but Bruce Wayne’s youthful Ward did not expect to find a desirably smoothe and shiny woman bound strictly in a rib contorting black leather skin tight catsuit, holding a whip, crawling right out of those magazines Alfred keeps hidden under his bed... She cracks her whip. It’s loud, and makes Dick feel awkward like when he’s watching the girl’s teams play tennis after school.

“Little boy! Go back to bed, pretend this is a dream, or I’ll put you over my knee and spank your tight little bottom raw!”

Dick doesn’t even have to think about it “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, you can spank my little tight bottom raw.”

There’s criminal illegal behaviour and there just plain immoral indecency “Oh? No, Kid... No! It was just a joke, if anything I was threatening to beat the living snot out of you. Which is a bad thing, you’d need a face lift after I stopped pounding on you, and you’d maybe not be able to walk without a cane for the rest of your life. I’m a fully grown adult and I do not have time for puppy love. Scoot, or I’ll break you.”

Bruce Wayne’s youthful Ward Dick Grayson knows exactly what he wants for Christmas, and she is wearing 6 inch stilettos. “What if I show you the bribe room? Where Bruce keeps hundreds of suit cases full of millions of dollars in laundered non sequential notes?”

Reason falls out the window. “I would like to know where that room is very, very much.”

“And I would like a date to the Gotham High School Fall Formal. It is debutante season after all.”

“How old are you boy?”

“17 and a half.”

“Close enough.”
 
Part 10.

A compressed jet of air launches Batgirl’s Batgirl Cycle over the smooshed in half on fire police cruiser at the front door of stately Wayne Manor, then she lands skidding into the lobby, through Chief O’Hara’s calves, toppling the old s.o.b., rescuing her friend and confidant Sergeant Pennyworth retired, as Superman flies a few miles per hour shy of the speed of sound, over her shoulder.

Woosh!

“Thank you Batgirl” Alfred decries “Harry is in trouble! This way! Double time!”

They both race towards the sound of an old lady, the love of Alfred’s starry starry life, murdering a cat, past a Catwoman carrying two large sacks clearly labelled as “loot” so Barbara kicks this particular Catwoman, of the many Catwomen, that seem to be obfuscating Stately Wayne Manor tonight, in the circuitous way to Bruce Wayne’s finely laundered bedroom, where they find Aunt Harriet throwing pillows at another Catwoman and calling her rude names from the bible. “Why I never! Alfred! This LESBIAN tried to have her way with me!”

Alfred calms his true love “Harriet , my perfect angel, this is Master Bruce’s secret girlfriend. She is “allowed” in the house, if she behaves.”

Harriet’s consternation subsides after an official introduction “I always said this house needed more women in it.”

Barbara’s gallbladder tried to jump out of her throat “What!?? But he’s courting me! I’m “this” close to being millionaire Bruce Wayne’s actual Girlfriend!!”

Catwoman licks her paw “Honey, if you were really as close as you think you are, to I’m thinking an engagement ring probably, yuck, you still wouldn’t be calling Bruce a millionaire every time you say his name, but he lets you wear his colours, so I suppose that’s something.”

Alfred’s heart skips a beat, which is dangerous for someone his age, because the Catwoman let the cat out of the bag.

The scales fall from Bab’s eyes “Bruce Wayne is Batman!!!????”

Dick’s Aunt Harriet condescendingly looks down on Batgirl (figuratively) who is almost a foot taller than she is “Of course Millionaire Bruce Wayne is Batman, are you some special kind of stupid?”
 
Part 11.

From deep in a cave full of bats and psychosis trophies, Penguin on a pogo umbrella is chasing Sam Lane’s daughter up a stairwell to Stately Wayne Manor’s hour of flame and crisis where hamstrung Chief O’Hara’s mysiginosm is lamenting his choices, after Lois derided an indecent proposition from the horned up Penguin, swearing this was love at first sight.

But above ground the Chief is ranting “Little cursed witch ran me over! I’ll boil your bones for gravy y’pointy eared harridan!” Salty Chief O’Hara blares with spit and vinegar like a thundering typhoon, the veins in his neck glowing red like an enlongated stringy zit ready to explode distempered puss everywhere, but O’Hara will definitely have a bruise from his ankle to his elbow from where Barbara ran into him with her Bagtgirl Cycle, which is something that just happened moments ago. “Ow! Ow! Bugger! Ow! You over there, lady (He’s pointing at Lois who just sprung into the room from a secret passage behind a grandfather clock, with almost nearly 90 percent of her virtue intact, with his sidearm), Saint’s Begorrah! Help me please, my arse is all busted up from that awful woman driver who thinks the inside of a house is an interstate!”

Beleaguered Pulitzer winning Lois Lane needs a human shield to protect her from the Canary Cassanova 10 steps behind her, who tried to... Who knew Penguins were all hands?! So she sidles up to the sweaty Irishman’s hippolike sweaty carriage, helping the Chief lurch to his shaky feet, grunting from the effort, Lois wishes that she was even half as strong as Superman. The cackle of her well dressed suitor fills the lounge with passionate mating squawks, so O’Hara, a real man full or bad instincts and gravy, starts shooting wildly at the highly recognizable hawkish laughter emerging from the shadowed recess behind that weird door which looks like a clock that Superman’s Girlfriend Lois Lane had leapt out of. “Come on out big nose, flippers raised or I’ll blast you good! You’re going to explain everything and then millionaire Bruce Wayne is going to jail for a million years! I out smarted all of you! I am the greatest! I am the greatest! USA! USA! USA!”

From behind, the lash of a 9 foot bullwhip extrudes the fray, coiling around Clancy O’Hara’s shooting wrist shaking his firearm lose, which tumbles and bounces away from the Chief to underneath a sofa more costly than Clancy’s Gremlin, but not the one on fire, his own car parked in front of his house, way away away. “Mother McKitty that smarts! Who the hell is trying to string me up??! Oh! You! Bad Kitty wants a fat lip?”

Catwoman, an ebony vixen of Gotham’s crooked allies; the Kitty Queen of Crime does not like this dogged lawman. “Leave my Pengy alone chubby Piggy, or I’ll string you up for early retirrrrrrrement.” Four steps closer, she wraps her whip around O’Hara’s neck, bringing Catwoman almost cheek to cheek with Lois Lane, a human crutch, huddled against Clancy’s girth, who was still trying to keep the Chief’s huge torso between her sheen nighty and whatever exotic ammunition was going to slew forth from the Penguin’s next trick umbrella “Who do we have here my prrrrreetty pet? Another tramp keeping Millionaire Bruce Wayne’s bed warm?”

Lois shirks from the accusation “No, no, I haven’t even met the man! I’m very confused and extremely overwhelmed! I want to go home to Metropolis where the criminals make sense, and Superman is always there to save me! SUPERMAN! Superman!!!!! Save MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” but nothing happens. No Superman, no last second save. He’s busy wrestling an Earth Quake machine from the Joker (Cesar Romero).

Two more costumed lady adventurers join the melee “Take my clothes off you two bit pretender!” Another Catwoman, the original Catwoman who is scrambling with Batgirl (Yvonne Craig), across the length and breadth of Stately Wayne Manor for the heart of Millionaire Bruce Wayne, shoots the Nubian princess in the back, which doesn’t mean as much as it should since the duplicat’s wildcat wardrobe is very bullet proof. “I don’t let delinquent doppelgangers take what is mine! HSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” Batgirl punches both Catwomans with the same little purple fist, laying them both out, allowing Penguin time enough to lob into the air a dozen mini lawn dart umbrellas above the three women trying to marry a millionaire, just like in that old movie about three women trying to marry a millionaire called “How to Marry a Millionaire”.

“I’m not a super hero! I’m not a super villain! I am a journalist! I will get some respect from you weirdos!” Razor sharp knives (Penguin Brand Lawn Darts, Holey fun for all ages. Patent pending.) fall from ceiling narrowly missing the newswoman, but one of them plugs Ohara in his shoulder, who passes out from shock, while Egghead pantses the Penguin, pulling on the cummerbund like it’s a slipknot, binding his happyfeet together, accentuating the little lad’s waddle, so today Penguin is even more like a Penguin than any other day, as he trips over himself, back down the stairwell to the Batcave, rolling ass over tea kettle all the way to the bottom again, and broke his crown.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just looking for an eggs-it.” Egghead adds before he scoots “Besides, that egg-omaniac is always stealing my best laid egg jokes. That old bird is eggshausting.” And he’s gone, passing the Master of Stately Wayne Manor returning to find his living room on fire, a disaster of human bodies at war with each other and common sense. Barbara, in purple, disguised as the indomitable Batgirl gets the first word in “Bruce! This crazy Cat-lady says that she is your girlfriend! I thought I was your girlfriend!!! What have you got to say for yourself!?”

The World’s Greatest Detective (Adam West) has only one conceivable reply to such a well thought out question: “Daddy’s home.”

The End.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
If you are not already a member then please register an account and join in the discussion!

Sign up / Register


Back
Top