The Problems of Being Ravan-II Or Ravan's travails with demonetisation and other things

Taking off from where I left it last time, or rather continuing from where I left it last time because, well, the situation has changed. If you haven't read the first part, please do here: The Problems of Being Ravan

Scenario: A morose Ravan is sitting on a chair outside Nandu's tea stall somewhere in Delhi. In his right hand he's holding some pink papers. In his left a cellphone. Lord Ram appears, all tanned (from his Sri Lanka trip) and beaming like a 1000-watt bulb.

Lord Ram: Ravan, dude, what's up?
Ravan: Look Ram, I really don't have time for any of your bickering. I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders and I don't know if I can take it any longer.
LR: Whoa, dude, like you are really out. Tell me what happened?
R: What happened? WHAT HAPPENED? You don't have any clue, do you? The world's gone all topsy turvy and here you are standing there asking me what happened?
LR: No, seriously, what happened?
R: (flashing the pink papers in his hand) Look at this. Do you know what this is?
LR: Nope, why not enlighten me, pun intended?
R: These are the new currency notes that have been brought into circulation by the government in your country. Can you see this? This is PINK in colour. Do you think a man's man like me is going to be seen pulling a pink currency note out of his raw, but faux, bull's hide wallet? I mean, I can imagine seeing it coming out of my numerous wives' wallets in their dainty hands with pretty fingers with pink nail paint. But me? No, sir. I am going to wage war on these notes.
LR: War? On these notes? Like seriously, how are you going to wage war on lifeless papers? What about our war? And where did you get these from?
R: I don't know. I need to call my trusted advisor and ask him how. And no, I am not going to fight with you right now. And I got these notes from the teller at the bank. I had to give him back the old currency notes. I got gypped there too. I gave him 4000 bucks and he returned only these 2500 bucks. I am beginning to get really exasperated. The fellow said it's good for the nation and that if I had to prove my loyalty to the nation, I shouldn't crib.
LR: Why ask your advisor? Why can't any one of your 10 heads think up of a nefarious scheme?
R: We've all got headaches looking at these notes and this cellphone and thanks to all this pollution.
LR: Cellphone? Why? Couldn't figure it out, could you? And what about pollution?
R: No, we figured it out well and good. Problem is we can't use it. My beautiful Lanka has so much better air quality. Here, all I get to breathe in is car exhaust fumes, people's farts, bad body odour. I've got a bad cough and I don't even smoke!
LR: Huh? Why? One too many heads with a pair of ears each? And yes, the air quality in Lanka is far better.
R: The problem is that I can't get a conversation of a decent length in without the call dropping. I've been trying to call my Prime Minister for the last half hour and all I've managed to say to him has been "Hello". After that the call drops or doesn't connect properly. I've got a 4G sim which, I think, is disabled like me. I've run out of balance and have only these currency notes with me which are usable. I need to get a new Jio sim.
LR: Oookkaayyy. Minor hassles, don't you think? Why not go back to Lanka?
R: I can't!
LR: But why?
R: My ride's stuck in traffic! Some clown has also managed to put a deep scratch in my gold plated fenders. I am going to find him and kill him.
LR: Tsk, like, dude, why don't you just go <poof> and head on back to Lanka? You are a great lord and can do that, can't you?
R: I can't.
LR: But why? Have you forgotten how to do that?
R: No. My disability pension rules say I can't do anything that the others can't. So, I have to wait for my ride. It's already 3 hours late.
LR: Say, you wanna hitch a ride with me?
R: You'll give me a ride?
LR: Sure, why not? I can tell you about where all Sita and I went in Lanka and enjoyed.
R: Oh cool. Help me up, will you? Where's your ride?
LR: Stuck in traffic!

WCF (let your imagination run!)

Sri Sri Ravishankar has his heart in the right place, but he's not thinking things through.

The World Culture Festival that is going to take place over three days - March 11, 12, 13 - has already generated enough controversy to last the country for a whole year and maybe after that as well, but that isn't really what is needed now. And in India, culture is religion and religion is everything. Each and every aspect of our 'culture' is drawn from religion.

Having faith is a good thing, but that doesn't mean that faith takes precedence over everything else. In this case, the Yamuna floodplains which have been taken over by the preparations for the event have led to the uprooting, or cutting, of numerous trees that hold the soil together and prevent widespread flooding during monsoons, but has also damaged the homes of many birds that were commonly seen around there.

Prior to the massive ugliness being erected on the floodplains, one could spot Black Kites perched on pillars sunning themselves in the cold mornings waiting for their wings to dry and then take to the air, lifted up by their mighty shoulders and thence soaring even higher on thermal currents. Over the last two weeks, I haven't seen a single black kite in that area.

The land on which the World Culture Festival's stage has been set up was once home to many species of tiny passerine birds which have now been made homeless by the wanton construction there. What's worse, the pontoon bridge that the army has set up for the event floats over the waters of the Yamuna and is in an area that was once home to waterfowl of different species.

The Okhla bird sanctuary is just a stone's throw from the venue for the event. Think of the damage the incessant noise - generated by people, loudspeakers, generators - of three days of events and the garbage that 35 lakh people - yes, that's the number of devotees expected to visit the event - will generate and how badly the environment there will be damaged. The Yamuna is already polluted, the water birds that live around the place are already feeding in poisoned waters - a tragic situation considering that it is in the heart of the capital of a country. The only wildlife seen around there these days is animals that walk on two legs, wear shades and clothes. Oh yeah, there's also some elephants, but it seems Medusa had a go at them and they are now all rock! I even saw a beheaded head (?) of a suitably decked pachyderm lying around there with his eyes pointed to the skies urging the gods to smite down the ignominy being built there.

The river is already dead and now with this event, we are going to kill or get rid of whatever lives around the river. In a city that is already suffering from immense pollution, we are inviting lakhs of people to come visit the event over three days. Sign boards have already been erected even in Gurgaon directing people to the venue. (This, chidren, is called Mass Madness, or March Madness) Think of the pollution levels that the city will have to face. Delhiites would do much better if they were to take a day off from work on Friday and get out of the city for three-four days.

In a tweet Sri Sri says, "I appeal to all parties to not politicize the #WCF2016. It is to unite all cultures, nations, religions & ideologies. Let's come together!" I ask you, what is the point of uniting when there's nothing left to live for? When you've already killed Mother Nature and there's nothing left to save? Isn't that redundant to what our ancient texts and holy books teach?

In the end, religion will not save you. In fact, the only thing that could have had the power to save you - Mother Nature - is being slowly but brutally killed with your religion and by holding such events.

The problem with us Indians is that for us, religion comes foremost. We don't think twice before setting up a pandal and going all hammer and tongs in praise of the lords who, I am sure, if they exist and have some semblance of common sense, have noise cancelling earplugs stuck firmly in their ears and are ignoring the praying, pleading masses.

For us Indians, religion is something that we need to do in and with the public. How else will one get recognition for being "very religious"? Looking at the jamboree that is going to take place between March 11-13 on the Yamuna floodplains, the sadhus of yore had it all wrong when they went into the jungles to meditate and find god. If only they had had the foresight and the knowledge of putting up some loudspeakers and a dance floor with some DJ playing some hip number with some Mandakini dancing in front of him, he would have attained nirvana or moksha sooner. Alas, those sadhus wasted their lifetimes living in the jungle, meditating atop a rock, unfortunately getting their butts bitten by red ants or suffering some other ghastly fate. Amateurs, I tell you. The modern day Babas have perfected the art of religion down to a science. And that science is pretty much evident right here in Delhi with the World Culture Festival. Or #WCF, if you please. Yup. It's the age of twitter/facebook/instagram religion where your karma gets counted with #es!

Beat that, you sadhus of yore!

RIP, little birds of Okhla Bird Sanctuary and Yamuna floodplains.

The death of a bookstore... or the death of a city

A city is not just buildings and people. A city is the words that it speaks and reads. For any city worth its name, it is an extremely sad day when a book shop has to down its shutters and walk into the sunset while shaking off the dust of the collected books off its hands.

The day a bookshop closes is the day a city's soul dies. There are no tears, no mournful songs are sung, the funeral is held with the flick of a switch that plunges the entire shop into darkness.

The darkness, I presume, hides the pain of each letter printed in a book. The darkness hides the fact that the city betrayed those words and left them to die.

In Gurgaon, I have seen more book shops shutting down than I would be comfortable with. The first one was Crossword at 32nd milestone which shut down and went out without so much as a whisper.

Then came Books and Beyond. A favourite haunt for me, my wife and my son, Anhad, who had become good friends with the manager. Quill and Canvas, in Galleria, shut down soon after that. Thankfully, it was just relocating.

The latest, a place where I have spent hours with my family browsing through books and music and toys, is Landmark. Yesterday, when I walked into the store, there was a smell of desperation, a smell of despondency in the store which lay almost half empty.

My initial reaction was that they must have organised something here that's why most of the stuff had been moved around. But then, screaming loudly in their silence were the empty racks, an employee sitting on the floor stacking playstation games into a carton, a woman sitting on a console table that once housed the PS3 where my son used to play games, empty racks moved into a corner ready to be moved out of the shop and bare wall clips from which once hung an array of headphones and other assorted gadgets.

I love the smell of books. Anhad loves flipping through old books and even before he starts reading a book, he raises it to his nose and inhales long and deep. I once asked him why he did that. He told me, "It is perhaps the sweetest, most comforting smell in the world after the smell of rain".

I asked an employee and he said that the store was shutting down. I asked him when. He just said, "Soon. Maybe March".

I grew up surrounded by books. I can't sleep if I don't read a book. I buy books as if I am afraid that if I don't buy them I will never get them. I have a morbid fear of running out of books to read. I hoard books and I am proud of it.

Never in my life have I ever felt more sadness than yesterday.

Death is never a happy sight, no matter how heroic, brave or tragic or unfortunate it is. Death is death. Death is the final release of a soul from this mortal life for us living beings. But how do books die? How does the written word die?

Somewhere, a promising new author is sitting and writing his first words on a computer. Will he be able to finish his book before the bookshops all die? Will digital have the same charm and appeal as the paper? I don't know. But what I do know is that for a city to give up reading, is for a city to stop breathing.

I have a dream. One day, when I am old and retired and have nothing to do, I will open a bookshop. I'll probably call it, "The most comfortable place on earth" or maybe, "The last bookstore ever" and I, surrounded by all the books of the world, shall sit in that shop, which according to my dream, is on a solitary beach or maybe a floating bookshop which floats around on the waters of the world for all eternity.

Then, maybe, just maybe, I won't have the morbid fear of words dying or of running out of books to read.

The Problems of Being Ravan

This is a humour piece. No offence is intended against any person living, dead or fictitious. No offence or disrespect is intended towards the disabled or those born with certain disabilities/deformities. Please read it as it is meant to be... a humour piece, nothing else.

Circa: A long long long long time ago.
Scene: The finale of the Ramayana. Lord Ram and Ravan are locked in their epic battle and both of them have shot off more than half their arrows with little to show. Ravan has had a couple of his heads knocked off and is finding it increasingly difficult to defeat Ram.

Lord Ram: Give up, Ravan.
Ravan: Nothing doing! In fact, actually, I am going to do something.

<Poof> Ravan disappears in a blinding flash of light. Lord Ram blinded by the flash, manages to perceive that his enemy has managed to open a time vortex and disappear. Furious, he jumps in after Ravan.

<Poof> Ravan appears in modern day India at a government office in Delhi where people are lined up in a queue waiting for their turn to peek through the 3"x3" window and utter some gibberish that results in them getting some money. Wondering what it's all about Ravan asks the next man.

Ravan: What's up, dude? Why are you all standing in line here?
Man (takes one long look at Ravan and his eight remaining heads and eyes his sword suspiciously): Get in line!
R: What for?
M: To get your benefits. Have you filled up the form?
R: What form?
M: The form that will get you the disability pension. Or don't you want it?
R: Why should I want a disability pension?
M: Umm... ok, physical deformity pension?
R: What physical deformity?
M: Don't you have like, some extra heads, y'know?
R: Foolish man. Those are not extra heads. They are useful heads. How else do you think I am known to be so well-read? Each head has a brain that has read a lot of different things.
M (shrugging): Your wish, though I seriously suggest you fill up that form and get in line. I think the end of the line is outside that door.
R: OK. I shall fill it up and stand in line, only to gather a new experience.

Just then <poof> Lord Ram appears out of the time warp.

Lord Ram: Running away, eh, Ravan? But you can't escape me! Today you shall meet your destiny.
R: Ram, I seriously am not in the mood for any more fighting. I am busy.
LR: And why are you not in the mood to fight?
R: Because you called Rajinikanth over such a trivial matter. We could have sorted it out between ourselves. Why did you have to get him involved?
LR: Hah. Crying foul now, are you? Serves you right. Good shall defeat evil! And what are you doing with that paper? Is that some new evil plot you are hatching on it?
R: No, it's a disability pension form.
LR: Disability pension form? What in heaven's name do YOU need a disability pension form for?
R: To get a disability pension!
LR: What do you mean disability?
R: I've like, got y'know, like ten, sorry, now, eight heads?
LR: So, how does that make you disabled?
R: Hush, these days it's called physical handicap or deformity, if you please.
LR: Really? So, how does that make you disabled?
R: You know everytime I have to go through a door? Well, I can't just walk through it. I have to siddle past the doors sideways, like a crab, y'know. It can be very tiring. I asked the royal architect to break the doors and build new ones so that I could just walk through them. Do you know what he did? He told me to get my heads examined and to keep the best one. The rest, he said, should be discarded!
LR: Really? He said that? Tsk, I can imagine.
R: What's worse is when I am laying with one of my numerous wives.
LR: How is that worse?
R: You know, while I am hard at work trying to do what's right, the rest of the heads will start peeking and start whistling or giving directions or start taking some other wife's name. It's a real put-off and a head in the wrong place. Can you imagine, I can't even do a proper 69 with any of my wives! I need to call in 9 others so that each head is satisfied!
LR: Tsk, I pity you. You carry on standing in the line to collect your disability pension. I'll just scoot on, collect Sita and hike it back to Ayodhya. What say?
R: Yeah, and I would like it very much if you would ask Hanuman to stop burning my castles for fun. Oh and while you are at it, would you like to go around Lanka and see the sights and sounds of the place? There's some beautiful beaches we have back home. Let me know if you like it. I am putting in place a tourism plan for the island and would like some feedback.
LR: Sure. Is there some special package you are offering?
R: Heck, dude, I am standing in line here for a disability pension and you want a special package? Not fair, y'know. Now sod off and let me collect my pension.

A Fictitious Dialogue between Superman and Batman IV or The non-existent love life of Superman

Scene: Superman sitting in his Fortress of Solitude looking all grim and sad. Batman walks in looking as pleased as a Panda whose stuffed himself with some nice juicy bamboo shoots.

Batman: Yo, Supes, what's up? Why the long face? Why so serious, to quote the Joker?
Superman: I am sad, that's why the long face and, incidentally, I was born with a long face, unlike yours!
B: Bah, you've got no sense of humour. What's bothering you now?
S: Um... nothing.
B: C'mon, Supes, I know there's something bothering you. Tell me, what unfortunate philosophical dilemma have you encountered now?
S: It's just... no, never mind.
B: Tell me, Supie.
S: It's Hugh Hefner.
B: Heff? That old rabbit? What about him? Has he discovered one of your weaknesses?
S: No, nothing like that. It's just that I am jealous of him.
B: Jealous? Of an old man? Why? He's got nothing on you!
S: Actually, he does. He's almost 80, dying and yet he's got rooms full of naked girls falling all over him because they want to be with him. While I, with all my superpowers and all, am stuck with Lois.
B: But, Supes, Lois is a nice girl. She'll probably want to marry you and have kids with you... super kids.
S: No, she doesn't. She thinks one super jackass is enough for the world. Anyway, she doesn't want kids who are stronger than her.
B: Hmmm... that would be a problem. Listen, I gotta go.
S: (perking up a bit) Why do you have to go now? Is there something I can do? Beat up a supervillain or someone?
B: Nah. I got a date with this hot blonde chick. Don't tell Rachel, by the way. She thinks I am somewhere in northern Europe on some business, while she's at her sister's place babysitting her twins.
S: (With his jaw dropping to the ground and creating a crack in the earth) You've got a date with a blonde chick? Now, I am becoming jealous of you!
B: What for? Okay, tell me what happened with Hugh.

Batman: Tell me, Superman, What was Rachel doing at the
Playboy mansion?

Superman: I told you, she was having fun, just like you
last weekend! What do you want? A video recording?
Ask Spiderman for that. He's got lots of those and her's!

S: You know, early today morning, I was flying around town making sure there was no crime happening when I flew over the Playboy mansion and I nearly fell out of the sky. There were all these girls there in the mansion partying in the lawn around the pool. They were all looking so beautiful. All those tiny bikinis, nice taut bodies. Man, the things I could have done with all of them.
B: Well, Playboy mansion is known for that kind of thing. In fact, I have a key to the house. I can go there any time. I was there just last weekend and boy, did I have fun.
S: Hugh gave you a key? Why hasn't he given me one? You are making me feel worse.
B: Oh sorry. Listen, I'll leave you to your devices (looking around the empty Fortress) and well, let you sort it out yourself. (Thinking, thank god, he hasn't said a word about Rachel!)
S: Rachel was there.
B: Where?
S: Playboy mansion. She's not at her sister's place looking after her twins.
B: Huh! How do you know?
S: I flew over it, remember? And with my super eyesight, I can see better than you can at any given time and anywhere even in your darkest batcave.
B: What was she doing there?
S: Who?
B: Rachel, who else?
S: Same thing that you did last weekend.
B: What do you mean?
S: Having fun!
B: What kind of fun?
S: The usual kind.
B: (Getting exasperated now) You aren't making any sense, Superman. Tell me exactly what did you see?
S: Exactly what I saw was your girl, Rachel, having fun at the Playboy mansion.
B: Aaarrgghh... what exactly was she doing?
S: I told you, she was having fun!
B: Tell me, Superman, what was Rachel doing at the Playboy Mansion?
S: I told you, she was having fun, just like you last weekend. What do you want? A video recording? Ask Spiderman for that. He's got lots of those and her's!

Batman flings himself at Superman to hit him, only to be blown back by a blast of cold air from Superman.

A Fictitious Dialogue between Superman and Batman III or The love life of Superman

(If any Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman, Mary Jane or Rachel lovers are hurt by this, be cool, guys, it's just fiction!)

Scene: Superman sitting in his Fortress of Solitude looking all grim and sad.

<Enter> Batman with his usual flourish and penchant for theatricality.

Superman: You know something? For all your finesse and all your gadgets and all, you are too loud. I could hear you coming from miles away.

Batman: That’s because you have super-hearing. A normal human wouldn’t have heard it. You are an alien freak.

S: True.

B: So what’s wrong today? And before you begin, I warn you, don’t you go anywhere near Rachel. Last night I was about to motorboat her when I remembered our talk and ended up going limp on her. I doubt I’ll be seeing her sometime soon.

S: Yeah, I know. I heard Rachel scream and kick you in the head. I had a good laugh.

B: Supes, you are ruining my love life. I can understand you have problems, but that doesn’t mean that you have to make my life miserable.

S: Sorry. I didn’t mean to, but well...

B: So, tell me what’s bothering you now?

S: Spiderman was here just a while ago.

B: Yeah, I know. I saw him limping out of here. He looked as if he had been run over by a lawn mower. What happened?

S: I had to beat him up.

B: You? Why?

S: Because of Mary Jane.

B: Who Mary Jane?

S: Spiderman’s girl.

B: Oh yeah. Ugly chick that. Nothing like my Rachel.

S: That’s what you think. Ask him.

B: Let’s not go there. So what about Mary Jane?

S: I got drunk last night.

B: And why did you get drunk?

S: You know how I’ve got this super soft corner for Wonder Woman and how badly I want to get in those tight latex panties of hers?

B: Yeah. I know.

S: Well, I decided to do something about it and asked her out. She refused, saying she couldn’t go out with me. When I asked her why, she replied, “Because we are Super Friends”. Man, was I heartbroken. So I went to the pub to get drunk and hopefully pick up a chick who would help me take my mind of my problems.

B: So? What’s that got to do with MJ?

S: Actually, I was not in my Superman suit and was at this pub on the 40^th floor of a high-rise building. Nice place. Great views of Metropolis all around. You should go there some time.

B: Ok. You went to a pub, got drunk, so?

S: Actually, MJ was there and well, we got talking.

B: So, did you bring her home? Is that why Spiderman was here?

S: No, no. I didn’t bring her home. I was having beer and she asked me if it was nice. I told her it was fantastic. I also told her it was so fantastic that after downing one beer, I can fly. She didn’t believe me. So, I downed one beer and stepped to the window and jumped. I took two rounds of the building and came back. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

B: So?

S: The stupid woman had her beer and went and jumped out of the window. There’s an MJ-sized blood stain on the road there now, not to mention a two-foot deep pit. Apparently, she bounced a couple of feet when she hit the road. And she was screaming, “I am flying. I am flying. I am flying.”

B: So... she’s dead, is it? You killed her.

S: No, I didn’t kill her. I just didn’t save her. There’s a difference.

B: Well, you did tell her that the beer could make you fly.

S: Dude, beer or no beer, I can fly. I am Superman. She wasn’t. And I specifically said I can fly, not she could fly.

B: Oh boy. So what did Spiderman say when he was here?

S: He wanted to know why I did it.

B: And?

S: I told him that I thought he needed saving, so well, there it was. Anyway, Spidey had earlier cribbed to me that she’s only great to look at; otherwise, she’s got a fused bulb for brains. And she’s hardly any good in bed; actually he used the word “web”.

B: Oh boy. So what did he do?

S: He tried to hit me.

B: Really? Fat lot of good it must have done him.

S: Yeah, he broke his hand. Anyway, he tried to hit me a number of times and ended up hurting himself.

B: So how did you get him to go home?

S: Oh simple, I showed him some of Rachel’s nude pics and told him she was looking for a boyfriend.

B: WHAT?? Where did you get the pics?

S: That’s for me to know and you to find out.

B: Superman, I am gonna kill you.

<Sounds of Batman hitting Superman and each time crying out in pain.>

A Fictitious Dialogue Between Superman and Batman - ii OR The Pleasures of Being Batman

(If any Superman or Batman lovers are hurt by this, be cool, guys, it's just fiction!)

Opening scene: Superman (all dressed up with nowhere to go and looking all haggard with a month-old beard, unkempt hair, blood shot eyes and wearing a clothes peg on his nose and ear plugs in his ears) sitting on a chair in a dark room in his flat, shivering and crying. Batman is standing beside him and looking around at Superman's Fortress of Solitude.

Batman: Superman?
Superman: -- (no answer)
Batman (moves closer to Superman and pull out his ear plugs): Superman?
Superman (jumping up and grabbing the ear plugs from Batman): Don't touch those. Those are the only thing that are keeping me sane.
B: Yeah, I know all about you and your problems. Can you hear me, though, with those ear plugs?
S: Yeah, I can. Super hearing, you know.
B: Can you hear the rest of the world also?
S: Yeah, I can. Super hearing, you know.
B: Then those ear plugs aren't any good, are they?
S: No, they aren't. Super hearing, you know.
B: Dude, listen. Why can't you be like me? All cool, y'know.
S: What do you mean?
B: I mean look at me. I also have an equal sized pad and my pad has so much more character to it. Your's, well, this fortress needs some drastic changes. Be like the bat, dude, cool!!!
S: What do you mean, be cool like you? I am cool, only I'm getting tired of some of these superpowers.
B: Dude, I hate to rain down on your parade, but tell me something. The only thing you have going for you is the fact that you can fly, isn't it?
S: Yes.
B: Well, birds can fly, too. As can some other superheroes and some of your villains. But well, let's look at what all's cool about me and uncool about you, shall we?
S: Bruce, I am so cool that everything here is made of ice. Can you get any cooler than that?
B: Sigh. Supes, you know nothing about being cool, do you? I mean... look at this place. It's just icicles standing or hanging or lying at different angles. There are no hidden, surprising corners. Nor do you have any gadgets like me.
S: What do you mean gadgets? I don't need gadgets. I am strong, I can fly, I have x-ray vision, super hearing and super sense of smell.
B: Dude, you are so out of sync with the people. No wonder the only person you've managed to get close to is Lois.
S: What do you mean?
B: You know to be a superhero is like being a brand. There's things that every superhero needs in order to get close to the masses... to make them love you.
S: Like?
B: You gotta have a nice cool ride with lots of buttons and flashy lights in it. So that the next time you rescue someone, and take them somewhere in your car, they can look at all those lights and keep wondering, "wow, this guy's sure got a lot of stuff in his car." Take, for example, my Batmobile. It's good looking, black as night, has lots of fun stuff, basically it's every male's wish come true. Every male in the world has wished for a car like this at one point in his brief, boring life. Now, when they see my Batmobile, imagine what they think. I've got a Batmobile. What've you got?
S (mumbles): Subway!
B: See? Subway's not cool, dude. You gotta have a fantastic ride. After all, the ride is important if you want some action with a chick, right?
S: Well, I can see why. I took this girl out flying after I rescued her. And well, she was so scared of heights, she shit in her pants. I had to spend the whole weekend washing my costume to get the stench out of it. Y'know... wash, blow dry it, wash, blow dry it... still smells, sometimes.
B: You've got issues, dude.
S: I know. ok. That's a car. What else?
B: You've got to stay cool... like really cool cool, as in keep your temper in check.
S: But I am always cool.
B: No you are not. Sometimes you get angry and well, you do a Hulk. Oh boy, now that's a superhero with some issues. And when he changes into that Green beast, the only thing he can say is, "Grrrrrr" and break things up, other than jumping about like a kangaroo.
S: He won't like it if he got to know you called him a kangaroo.
B: Yeah, don't tell him that. He's likely to go "Grrrrr" and start pounding my ass all over the place. And I love my ass... and Robin's... and Rachel's...
S: Yeah, I know, smelly, loud farts Rachel.
B: Now, don't start that. We've already been through that and you know I didn't like it.
S: Ok.
B: Third thing that you gotta do is you gotta learn how to relax.
S: Ok. How am I supposed to relax? Yoga?
B: Nope. Look at me. When I get tense, I go on a murdering spree.
S: Murdering spree?
B: Yeah, I play Call of Duty: Black Ops or God of War. Man, those two games are fantastic. Those two games let you do to the bad guys what you can't do in real life. I mean how many people have you killed in real life?
S: One only, actually, and that too I was forced.
B: You need to be able to approach people in your costume without the girls thinking you are looking through their clothes.
S: I can't help it. I see a nice curvy chick and boom, my x-ray vision kicks in and well... there it is, Superman junior at attention.
B: See? That's what I am talking about. Fooling the people while making them think that you are helping them. See my mask? I got an x-ray scanner built into it. The chicks don't know. They think I am blind as a bat and come close to me... giving me better views of their bodies through their clothes.
S: You are no better off than me!
B: Dude, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
S: I guess you are right.
B: You gotta have fancy gadgets in your fortress, dude, like I have in my batcave. I mean look at this place. This place is so full of empty space. You can build a home theatre in here... set up a nice music surround sound system, a dance floor, some secret passages... all the rest of the superheroes can come party at your pad here. And oh yeah, you gotta have a secret makeout room... you can bring Wonder Woman here some days and well, make the beast with two backs.
S: You all will probably end up cutting up the walls to get some ice for your drinks. But that bit about Wonder Woman sounds interesting.
B: Think about the possibilities, dude.
S: Maybe I'll bring Rachel over, one day. I love the way she swings her ass when she walks.
B: Don't do that, dude.
S: Oh yeah, now I get it... Rachel AND Wonder Woman, a menage a trois... goody.
B: (lunging at Superman to hit him) Claaaaaaaaarkkkk.... stop it...