Batman & Vomit Boy

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

Robin was still upset. Still upset. Angry. Wouldn’t speak to me. Wouldn’t answer the phone. Spent all his time at Matter Eater Lad’s place in Lower Gotham City listening to that degenerate music and talking with girls. Idiots.

The Joker had escaped from Arkham Asylum. Actually, he had been released on account of yet another lawsuit. His degenerate attorneys said I had violated his civil rights.

Chief O’Hara and Jim Gordon wouldn’t take my calls. Alfred had moved back to England. Aunt Harriet was dead. Batgirl had quit the business and was starring in a go-go dancing revue in Las Vegas. Degenerates.

It was up to Vomit Boy and myself to continue. He wasn’t my first choice. He wasn’t any of my choices. He was awful, but he was available. He had energy and dedication. He was a member of Young Americans For Freedom and Youth For Goldwater. He wore a cowboy shirt with stains down the front.

Killer Croc stood beside The Gotham City Credit Union’s revolving door, gnawing on a recently-deceased security guard. Vomit Boy and I leapt out of the Batmobile and onto the sidewalk.

“Put down that poor man’s remains, you fiend!” I shouted.

Vomit Boy discharged a forceful burst of grayish puke. Chicken for lunch. It sounded like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Who’s this guy?” asked Killer Croc, his mouth full.

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