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Steve Likes to Curse
Writing, comics and random thoughts from really a rather vulgar man
Two Voices: The Eternal Questions 
Sunday, November 22nd, 2009 | 01:36 pm [batman, humor, random, spider-man, writing]
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—. . .

—What?

—What is this you’re watching?

—History Channel. About plate tectonics.

—How’s that history?

—Plate tectonics are what shaped the Earth into the familiar form it holds today, the oceans and continents and mountains and shit.

—That’s what the Discovery Channel is for, though, dude. I turn to the History Channel for, like, the French Revolution, or shows on how depressed Abraham Lincoln was, or—

—How William Shatner Changed the World.

—That was a good one.

—So history of the continental shelf is out, but history of Star Trek is okay. Got it.

—Change the channel.

—I’m watching this.

—Fuck off and die, you rat bastard. Change the channel.

—No, and no.

—Gimme the remote . . .

—Hey! No! Get the fuck—

—Give it here!

Auuugggh! You motherfucker!

—Should’ve just let me have the remote, man.

—You put your finger up my ass!

—So don’t watch television in shorts. What can I tell you? Let’s see what else is on . . .

—I hope you forget to wash your hands and you get a bacterial infection.

—I’m going to put this finger down your throat . . .

—The best part of you ran down the crack of your mother’s ass.

—Hey, I got the remote, didn’t I? . . . Here we go! Spider-Man 2. Now we’re talking — Whoa! See that? Look out, Spidey!

—Look at all those webs he’s just letting go of. There must be thousands of those gross fucking spider-webs hanging all over New York City. They should pass an ordinance.

—Spider-Man’s webs are biodegradable, dipshit. They break down in, like, a few hours.

—But he’s always swinging around Manhattan. Even if they disappear in only a few minutes, they’d still be an eyesore.

—Okay, well, what about Batman? He swings around just like Spider-Man, but he uses ropes or wires or something. They take a lot longer than a few minutes to biodegrade.

—Batman doesn’t swing around like Spider-Man.

—In the comics he does.

—Oh, well, in the comics . . .

—And in the animated series. Didn’t you never used to watch that? He was always swinging around. I bet they had to hire people in Gotham City to go around in the morning and pull down all of Batman’s discarded bat-ropes.

—They should pass an ordinance, too.

—Government is always the answer for you, isn’t it?

—What? Why shouldn’t they? You cannot just use the city as your personal jungle gym and leave shit hanging off of buildings in your wake. It’s vandalism, it’s littering, it’s—

—So they pass an ordinance. Batman has to pay a fine for failing to pick up his bat-ropes. He’s not gonna interrupt his hot pursuit of the Joker or Man-Bat or whoever to go around picking up after himself, so he’ll definitely accumulate some massive financial penalties.

—Which is only fair. If people have to clean up after him, he should at least be compelled to pay for it.

—Who’s gonna collect? You? Nobody knows his secret identity. Should they just station cops on rooftops across the city with orders to issue a citation to Batman should he swoop past?

—Commissioner Gordon can do it. He lights the bat-signal, Batman shows up, and Gordon slaps him with the fines he’s accumulated as of that day.

—And Batman just whips out his checkbook, I suppose.

—If he truly respects the rule of law, yes.

—He doesn’t! He dresses up in a Halloween costume and sneaks around beating up criminals every night! You expect him to obey a city littering ordinance?

—The Adam West Batman would.

—If you wrote Batman comics, they would be the most boring comics ever.

—Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t write Batman comics, isn’t it?

—I can see the solicitations now. “Detective Comics: Hoping to challenge his liability for several severe financial penalties, Batman retains an attorney.”

—Fuck you.

—No! Fuck you!

—Okay.

—Okay?

—Okay, let’s fuck.

—What?

—I kinda dug your finger up there.

—Word?

—Jump me, big stud.

—Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Back in the day my nickname was Dixie Normous, and it weren’t due to my southern accent, neither.

Oooooooooooooooohhhhhh-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhh!
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