GOING BATTY!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Storybook Day.”

One of my all-time favorite fictional characters is the Batman. I’ve read the comics  and watched all manner of related things since I was a teeny sprout. Naturally, I wanted to be Batman when I was a kid. When I got older I realized that actually being Batty or spending time with Batty was not advisable. Here are a few reasons why.

ONE: GOTHAM CITY IS A RAINY, DEPRESSING, CRIME RIDDEN HELLHOLE.  I hate the rain, hate being depressed, and I am not fond of having my wallet jacked in the parking lot of the 7 Eleven. I would not do well in Gotham City.

There is also that little thing with the freakazoids who routinely pop up and get all up in your stuff. In real life, I complain when the weird kid who bags my groceries fails to push the cart out to my vehicle. I know I wouldn’t be able to handle the intrusiveness of a Killer Croc, Solomon Grundy, or a Riddler. No, Gotham City is not my dream vacation spot.

Seriously. Why do people live there?
Seriously. Why do people live there?

TWO: WEIRDOS ARE ALWAYS TRYING TO BEAT YOU UP OR KILL YOU. I can see it all quite clearly. Batty and I are playing a few hands of Rook and discussing Batty topic such as how the heck does he go to the bathroom in that suit? Does he go in alleys? On rooftops? Does he wear Batdupends or does that suit have a zipper?

I got to pee!
I got to pee!

That’s when the Penguin or some other weird asshole would show up looking to throw down.

I call dibs on the hillbilly's wallet!
I call dibs on the hillbilly’s wallet!

Batman has an arsenal of awesome weapons in his super sweet utility belt. Plus the dude is a ripped up state of the art badass who can knock your teeth down your throat just by breathing on you. Me? I’m not so tricked out these days. If I overdo it benchpressing I’m buying myself a one way ticket to an Icy Hot bath later.

Heck, all the loud explosions and gloops from my sons’ video games make me nervous these days. When a lameass villian like the Penguin can kick your butt you’ve got no business being Batty.

THREE: YOU’D HAVE TO DRESS LIKE A BAT OR WEAR SOME OTHER ODD COSTUME. Everybody in Batty’s world wears a costume. Usually a brightly colored costume. They are like the brooding and psychotic flavor of Skittles.

Well, Jim Gordon is the exception and doesn’t wear an outfit straight out of Rocky Horror. Unless you count a 1970s porno moustache as a costume. If you do then ol’ Gordo is ‘tumed up too!

Bow chicka wow wow
Bow chicka wow wow

I seem to be doing okay when it comes to fashion compared to all the other 40 something males I know. Costumes would not work for me. They don’t work for anybody else in real life either. When you see adults wearing them around Halloween you gotta think “office party. They’ll probably engage in some embarrassing and self-incriminating behavior later.” Seriously, check this guy out —

welfare batman

Besides, who would I be? Capman? Soccerdad? The Crimson Smartass? A cool codename would be forever beyond me. They can keep their costumes.

FOUR: I DON’T HAVE A BATMOBILE. Batman has a badass Batty ride to cruise the streets of Gotham in.

Meh. Look sexier with a dog hanging out the window.
Meh. Look sexier with a dog hanging out the window.

I have two modes of transportation, neither of them Batty, one of them is a truck.

At least it's black!
At least it’s black!

A truck just wouldn’t suit Batman’s whole dark and sullen disposition. What would be done with the thing? Throw Robin and the rest of the Teen Titans in the back for a weekend excursion at the lake?

The batmobile is loaded with cool gadgets. My truck is equipped with a satellite radio touchscreen thing, a cellphone charger, snacks for hungry kids, archaic looking tools used in conjunction with fishing, and occasionally dogs. None of this is really helpful to a masked vigilante looking to bring justice to the mean streets of a crumbling metropolis.

Batdog+batdog+or+dogbat+http+strawpollme+3915934_7ba0b5_5488935

FIVE: HE DOESN’T KEEP REGULAR HOURS. The name Batman sort of says it all. With that name you’re not going to be running around between the hours of noon and five. The night time is the right time to be Batty or hang with Batty.

I hate this fucking graveyard shift!
I hate this fucking graveyard shift!

My own job keeps me out a lot of evenings. When that’s not going on I have the habit of falling asleep on the front porch swing. I always seem to nod off at inconvient times. Once, my dad talked to me for nearly an hour before realizing I was out cold.

I often find myself staying up late but I don’t want to be running around late with the world’s premiere  vigilante detective while he tracks the Joker or entertains himself by kicking the poop out of a few would-be rapists, killers and robbers. One, I’d probably fall asleep in a second and die. Two, at one AM I wanna be home with my feet up.

So, no hanging with or being the Batty anytime soon. All the same to me, all this real life stuff looks pretty darn swell. It can be a drag sometimes but it ain’t bad at all, kiddos.

<href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/a-storybook-day/”>A Storybook Day</a>

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