In a derelict, rusty, old mineshaft, his eyes open, but not wide. Around him littered on the floor are empty beer cans and bottles. The bitter cold would be a shock to him, but he's numbed all over anyway. He's not only numbed by the copious amounts of alchohol he drank last night but because this is how he always wakes up. He's a drunk. Even worse he is a homeless drunk..
Oddly enough, his right hand felt warm. As he starred at it, he quickly discovered why, it was covered in his fresh vomit. It still steamed. He slowly stood up and looked around. He remembered coming here last night at some point, but he couldn't remember why. He takes some steps around, trying to find his bearings. It was still dark and he could bearly see anything around him. It was not pitch black, but the kinda grey dark that lets you see 1 meter or so, but not much further. He slowly stumbled around, looking for a lightsource, an exit..
And then it hits him. A myriad of places, faces, stream across his hangover addled memory, painfuly reminding him why he is in this dark place. He can't leave. It has become his permanent home. Even through his year long beard and mangy hair, someone could recognize him. The world hasn't forgotten him yet.
Suddenly a deep growl shattered the silence, causing his body to tense with fear. He dare not move a muscle, his senses heightened, waiting in the grey for any sign of movement or attack. Here in complete survival mode, he fleetingly remembers why he came to this place to hide, a long time ago, the rumors of the locals, the findings of his research, everything, pointed here to this mysterious place. With a harsh snap back to moment, alerted once more by the growl, this time louder and closer he panics.
With very little light to see by and his drunken vision still not adjusted to the impenetrable blackness he slowly knelt. Searching frantically with his hand for something, anything, he finally connects with a potential weapon - his wine bottle! Of course he thought. The memories of hours before begin flooding into his mind, grey and hazy. His reverie is interrupted by the sound of movement and quickly brings his reeling mind into a momentary focus. With a growl of his own shattering the deafening silence (and the roaring in his head) he breaks the bottle against the alley wall and prepares for what's to come, whatever it is.
Suddenly Batman stepped out of the shadows. Quietly they stared at each other for 73 minutes. Then batman, in a grumbly voice said 3 words that chilled him to the bones;
"I'M BATMAN, BEND-OVER"
The light glimmered over his face, like a glare from sun that's rising. The mist started to surround them. It wasn't just any kind of mist, something was very ominous about it. It moved around, creeping around the legs of him and his adversary, moving like it was concious. Pouring over their body, the mist filled every pore.
Suddenly raven appeared on a nearby lamp. The light that reflected of a windshield from a rusty old Camaro struck the raven's feather - they glistened like a dew on a young virgins ass awaiting to be deflowered.
The moment was very intense, those 73 minutes seemed to have fly-by, and our hero, in a drunken haze tried to resonate the words Batman told him: "Bend-over... bend-over..."
"To Hell with you beast!" - he yelled, and started to run, run towards his doom probably, with a faith in one hand and broken bottle in the other.
-
Meanwhile, in Syria, the third apostle kicked his horse in frustration. It hadn't moved an inch for three weeks. Meanwhile a new shopping mall had been built three dunes to the north. The apostle didn't know what to do, he had tried feeding the horse radishes, carrots and squirrels but the horse just stood there without moving, eating or doing anything at all.
The sun kept shining which took it's toll on the poor apostle. The circles he had drawn on the ground had turned into the olympic logo, complete with the year underneath, 2004.
Suddenly a man stepped out from behind a sand dune. He was young and scrawny and dressed in red and green tights. He was also sporting a very fashionable yellow cape.
The handsomely dressed stranger looked at the apostle, before shifting his gaze to the horse. He licked his lips, rubbing his nipples for a few moments, before looking back at the man. The strangers goofy grin unsettled the apostle, and just as he was about to throw sand in the strangers face and run away in terror, the stranger suddenly cleared his throat and began to speak in a squeeky irritating voice.
"Hi, I'm Robin... you haven't seen Batman anywhere have you?"
The apostle could hardly keep himself from laughing. He had heard rumors of the great Robin, fearless apprentice of Batman himself, but this scrawny, sorry excuse for a man stood before him now. Could this really be the legend?
No!! This must be an imposter!! "You are not Robin!" Screamed the apostle. "Who are you working for?" The imposters goofy grin turned into a menacing snarl, eyes peircing and crazy. "Just give me the horse and your life will be spared"
The Horse of course did not want to go, and jumping into a short rip in the fabric of time (created by the marching elephants of the planet wormhole) found himself stranded in the previous Monday.
This of course was going to lead to in inevitable problem that he would once again have to decide what to do for the week. He would have to choose to do something different because he would not have enjoyed being saddled by the strange Robin-clone, and also found the thought of time travel via a crack a boring prospect, so decided to keep away from fields with apostle's and Robin look-a-likes.
Meanwhile Robin and the apostle just stood speechless looking at the place where the crack had appeared...
The crack looked at Robin and apostle for a few seconds before disappearing into nothingness again. Left in the scorching heat were the unlikely pair of the third apostle and Robin, alternately looking at each other and towards the spot where the crack in time so cheekily appeared only to wisp the bored horse to a better place.
Back in the derelict mine the temporarily sober and shivering drunk was very surprised by the wooshing sound followed by the sudden appearance of an utterly normal and immovable horse by his feet.
"Oh no, this isn't right." the horse thought and yet again the always cheeky time crack appeared with a wooshing sound and made the horse disappear. In it's place a blue flash and a pungent cloud of smoke appeared. A contour was becoming visible as the smoke disappeared.
Batman was momentarily side tracked by the horse. He could see the face of the horse still in his mind. With a curious look on his face the horse seemed to be trying to communicate a message;
It was Robin, he sensed. "Robin is in danger! You must help me homeless man!"
The temporarily sober drunk looked at Batman that had suddenly appeared in a puff of blue smoke at the exact time that the horse had suddenly winked out of local existence and scratched his head.
"Robin? Uuh, you've got the wrong number" the drunk said and turned around facing the wall while making silly faces. The wall sighed and wished it could turn around as well.
Batman looked around the mine and noticed a trail of empty bottles leading through one particular shaft and decided to follow it. Little did he know that the trail would lead to a homebuilt distillery in the very core of the mine, further away from any exit than any other point of the cave. He knew even less about the flock of angry geese living in the mine guarding the distillery, something Batman would direly regret.
As he approached the center of the mine he could hear the flapping of wings and honking noises those cocksuckers make. His mind immediately went to the bat-alka seltzers in his utility belt. It's probably an urban legend but supposedly these would make seagulls explode. The more he thought though it seemed a bit cruel. If that faggot Robin found out he'd never hear the end of it. Dainty little animal rights bitch that he was. Batman also suspected he was a ginger that dyed his hair and used spray tan but he had yet to prove it. Maybe there was something else in the utility belt he could use. He had a myriad of gadgets and trinkets that could probably do the job for him, plus a few condoms. You never know when you'll need to suit up he had told himself when he put them in it. He had snickered quietly as he thought of all the times he had crept up on catwoman and put her out with the sleeper hold, the pics he had taken with his cell phone while his junk was in her mouth, and the guilt afterwards as he had realized he hadn't pulled out in enough time. It hadn't helped when he had seen her at the abortion clinic - not once but several times. Yes, those condoms were absolutely necessary it seemed.
He felt a draft and was pulled from his quiet humor. As he drew even closer he came into a huge open cavern. There were moonshine distilleries everywhere. And shit. Lots and lots of bird shit. The smell was overpowering. Immediately he began heaving and then the puking began. He wretched and heaved loudly. When he finally stopped he realized the flapping and honking had quit. "It seems the element of surprise is gone" he thought to himself. When he rose to his feet and looked up he realized they were all looking at him. And then a single word was muttered right before they charged him - AFLAC!!!!
