Batman & Robin the re-Novelization
Part 52
Last time we left you with a strong set of toys, er, vehicles, that the Bat Crew piloted towards downtown where Mr. Freeze has taken over a big telescope and turned it into a super giant freeze ray. Implausible, but undeniably on brand.
I just want to take a moment to give you some visuals on these vehicles.
Here’s the Bathammer:
You’ll notice it “Lights up with flashing strobe attack.” Epileptics never stood a chance. We were a stronger generation that way: we believed that recycling actually worked, we correctly believed computers and all things made by computers were for fucking nerds, and we left our epileptics to shake and shimmy in the gutters where they belonged.
Here’s the Jet Blade? A vehicle with skis on the front, tank treads on the back, and jet boosters? Very little about this makes sense. I DO like how they tried to make Batman muster some enthusiasm, like that would make up for this horrendous design:
“Yeah, go, onward, I guess…”
Am I the only one who can see Clooney’s face in this, thinking about his decisions and how he’s going to dress his agent in this goddamn suit, hang him upside down, and just whip him with giant jelly dildos until he’s learned his lesson?
Then we’ve got Batgirl and the Icestrike Cycle:
This is the only vehicle without the “Figure sold separately” thing going on, in fact the figure is very clearly visible RIGHT THERE in the blister packaging. I suspect this is because they knew nobody would want a Batgirl, so they had to make it a little something extra. Which isn’t DUMB, per se, but, I mean, come on, are we all sitting here pretending that Batgirl was introduced on screen to appeal to GIRLS? STRAIGHT GIRLS? Who wanted to BE her as opposed to people who wanted to BE all up in them guts?
The figure itself, I have to say, usually these are just repainted Batmans, slap a couple boobs on there, some lipstick, and you’ve got either a Batman figure or my attempt at drag.
But in this case, the figure actually seems to be different, it’s got this jaunty angle to the hips
That you probably think I wouldn’t have been capable of masturbating to because you don’t know me. Like I said, our epileptics died uncared for, and we knew how to whip it to ANYTHING.
Mr. Freeze had watched the battle from the platform high above. Now he tilted the giant telescope further, directly toward the river below. “Not so fast,” he said quietly, though the vehicles below couldn’t hear them. Which, you know, you probably understand. He’s like 50 stories up, the vehicles are on the ground. Vehicles can’t “hear,” per se. Not to mention—
“It’s time you cooled your heels,” Freeze said, interrupting what was sure to be another very valid point made by this narrator about how saying vehicles can’t hear a person is clumsy and shitty.
The huge freeze gun pulsed again, ejaculating its beam, which struck the frozen channel ahead of the Bat-force, and a high wall of rock hard, urgent ice formed, completely blocking the river’s mouth.
But the Bathammer had been modified to meet every possible situation, hence the airbrushed painting of a busty medieval sorceress on one side and the airbrushed painting of a shredded viking warrior man on the other, also with a huge pair of oily tits because why not.
Batman operated another control, this one marked EMERGENCY BURN. A jet of antibacterial cream shot into his crotch and anus, immediately soothing any infections he may have had. Then he operated the control marked EMERGENCY BURN II, which shot a mild acid into his eyes, just in case he’d seen something he’d rather not see, like what happens when you venture a bit too deep into the darkened dungeon that is the human asshole one drunken night, and for some reason that image is still completely vivid.
When Batman got down to EMERGENCY BURN VII, he’d found the non-sexual option that caused the Bathammer’s engines to roar into overdrive, propelling the craft forward even faster. It raced at the ice wall like a missile and burst through it in an explosion of ice. Batman briefly wondered why he didn’t just push down the gas pedal a little further instead of making this a whole separate button, but he only wondered this briefly. I mean, what’s the goddamn point of being super rich and having custom vehicles if they aren’t going to have all kinds of crazy buttons? Have you ever noticed that, how super rich guys NEVER get like, I don’t know, a smokescreen button or an oil slick button or a thing that shoots rockets out of their cars? Instead they just…fuck, I don’t even know what they do with their money, buy stocks? Is that how the rich get richer? Is it these stocks and bonds I hear so much about?
My word is MY bond. And my stock. It’s as good as gold. In all senses but the monetary one. Which is really the only sense about gold that matters, I guess. So my word is useless.
How is every week of writing this newsletter a new dig, a further excavation of my own misery?
They hit the frozen river on the other side together, whipping back into formation beside the Bathammer, for all the world as if they’d never split up, a powerful visual metaphor for what a child might wish after his parents get divorced, but he’s too young to understand what’s going on, he just wants them to be back together and in the same house where, once, love seemed like a reachable possibility.
Okay, that’s two examinations of my own sorrows in two paragraphs. This has gone too far. Too revealing for a Batman & Robin product. It’s as if they released, I don’t know, a Batman & Robin branded set of value sort cards that help you decide whether you should change careers in your middle age.
~
Freeze stared at the monitor screen with a real fuckin’ stupid look on his dumb face. He kind of couldn’t believe that Batman managed to get through a thing of ice that he’d only made like 10 seconds prior. It was almost like Batman had anticipated his every move, or like Batman had read this entire story and then gone back through with execs from Kenner to figure out how they could slap in a vehicle with some dumb features in it that don’t make sense in any scenario other than the ones presented.
The Bat-team had reached the base of the giant ice cliffs beneath the observatory. They were proving to have more endurance than he’d given them credit for. More stamina. More stored-up cum, if you will.
“I’ll finish off the city, Bane,” the villain snapped. “You, as they say in show biz, get undressed and lay down on that couch, close your eyes if you prefer.”
Mr. Freeze consulted his script again.
“Sorry, that was a note for a different thing, I think, one of the producers got his personal stuff mixed up in here: You, as they say in show biz, are on. Kill the kids. Which I guess they also say in show biz, you know these pro-abortion lefties. Kill the kids, but bring me the Bat.”
The masked monster moved off. Ivy had ordered him to obey Freeze until her return. He would do so…or die. Granted, a bloodless, PG-13 death, but still, dead’s dead, not like just dying inside like a starlet on that couch…
~
At the base of the cliff, Batman slid out of the Bathammer. He glanced at the digital display on his watch. It was a novelty watch that was supposed to show two people in different sexual positions that represented numerals, but he could never read it properly and just always said it was “69 O’cock!” whenever someone asked him the time. This was a great option as Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy who had no use for time and in fact had purchased his own time zone for his house decades prior, naming it “Bruce Standard Time, Baby! (BSTB!),” but it didn’t work so great as Batman, who did sometimes need to be on time for shit.
Batman leaned into the Bathammer, exposing the tight leather(?) spread across his ass as he strained to see what goddamn time it was on the Bathammer’s little display. Which he’d forgotten that he reprogrammed to always show a slice of pizza because ANY time is pizza time!
Batman gave up on actual time, it’s just a concept anyway, not a real, tangible thing, and told his sidekicks, “We have exactly eleven minutes to stop Freeze and thaw the city!”
Batgirl’s and Robin’s faces fell. Eleven minutes? Surely it was an impossible task!
Or WAS it?!?!