Batman & Robin: the re-Novelization

Part 46

Since his immersion in the cryogenic solution had driven him nearly insane, and driven him VERY fabulous with the glittery skin and all, Mr. Freeze had made millions of dollars from his criminal activities. How? Well, haha, if you don’t know, I’m surely not going to tell you. How could I be responsible for spreading knowledge like that? That would be incredibly irresponsible of me. No, no, let’s just all move forward with a complete lack of understanding of how criminal enterprise works. Let’s just all go to our jobs tomorrow and perish the thought that for a much smaller effort, over a much smaller period of time, we could have a lot more money doing things that, though illegal, are really not all that immoral.

I mean, how bad is it, really to grow hallucinogenic mushrooms that are consumed by dads who just want to have a little fun at an Eagles concert? And how else are they supposed to survive another “Hotel California?” And how are they supposed to enjoy the evening if they’re watching a bunch of super old guys play, knowing that their days are numbered? They might as well have a giant banner behind them that says, “Hey, we’re old, and you are, too, and even all the money and fame in the world isn’t going to save us from the grave. Look at us! All of you are here, and you don’t want us to die, and does it matter one bit? No, it does not!”

That’d be a pretty big banner, though. They might have to play at that sphere in Vegas and have the words on a Star Wars crawl or something.

Anyway, Freeze spent a lot of that money on researching his wife’s condition. Which is kind of how most of us spend most of our money, on our wives’ conditions, it just depends on what your wife’s particular condition is. For Freeze, it’s McGregor’s Syndrome. For others, it’s shopping on Temu. For still others, it’s a constant argument over what constitutes a “perfectly good” piece of furniture. And for still others, it’s a parade of nail polish shades that are almost indistinguishable from each other, but I assure you, they’re different, and if you were to suggest they weren’t, you will definitely get an earful about how YOU subscribe to some stupid-ass newsletter that’s basically the same gay/fat/stupid/sex jokes week after week.

Freeze also spent a lot of money equipping himself and his thugs. He paid them well, on retainer, knowing he could summon them whenever they were required.

Henchmen were sort of like the oil and gas workers of Gotham. They were usually young, male, had more money than they really should, and yet always, without fail, ended up broke, broken, and with a string of children who they loved dearly but, y’know, from afar, which is the purest form of fatherly love. Honestly, it’s for the best. When the father is actually in the picture, when it’s THIS type of father, it usually makes things worse. That’s the sort of guy who has a baby, it’s a girl, and he can’t change the diapers because, as he says, that’s weird, even though it’s really not, I don’t see how it’s any different from changing a diaper that housed a little dick instead. Although I did find changing boy diapers a very affirming experience. My dick is WAY bigger than a baby’s. Like, much, much bigger. I don’t want to drive this point home too hard, that’d be humiliating for the baby, and he’s already been humiliated enough by me, even to this day.

Freeze was glad he paid his thugs so well, because he needed them now, and he put out the call.

They stomped out into the streets wearing their super expensive and very dumb boots, hopped up into their lifted F-250s with pipe racks installed too low to actually prevent roof damage, and roared off into the night, surely making lots of panties wet because their trucks were pretty loud.

~

Freeze’s trucks screeched to a halt on a Gotham side street. Freeze and Bane were in the lead cab. They looked up into the night sky where, high above them, overhanging the city from its tall cliff, the Gotham Observatory stood. The giant viewing slit in the dome was open, the telescope aimed up at the stars.

The image of a giant slit with a long cylinder wedged in it is not to be ignored, but it’s far from the most suggestive image in this movie, so let’s move on.

“It’s going to be a long, cold night,” Freeze muttered darkly.

Bane didn’t respond. He didn’t know if that was a joke or not. Which isn’t entirely his fault. It’s very difficult to know the difference, in this movie, between a cold joke and Freeze just using the word “cold” in a sentence.

Boy, the writers on this movie must be pissed that Game of Thrones got famous for saying, “Winter is coming.”

Seriously? Winter is coming? That’s your big tagline? Something your grandma says, like it’s sage-like wisdom, even though it’s like, grandma, fuck, it’s November. Of course winter is coming. It has literally every year you’ve been alive, right about the same time.

C’mon, guys. You couldn’t do any better than that? “Let’s get laser-ated,” or something?

Ha, silly me, there aren’t any lasers in Game of Thrones. I’m such an idiot. I mean, sure, there are far more implausible things, like dragons, but lasers, which humans did eventually create, would be fuckin’ stupid.