Bizarre Webcomic

“Alfred,” said Batman to Alfred. He was not looking at Alfred, and yet you could tell he was talking to him because there was no one else in the room. “I’m going out.”

Alfred seemed rather alarmed. “But Master Bruce–!”

Batman turned around, stopping Alfred with his stare. “The cowl is on. Bruce Wayne is not here.”

Alfred sighed, then resumed being alarmed. “But Batman–!”

“Don’t get too familiar. I’m still your employer.”

“But Master Batman! You can’t go out!”

Batman gritted his teeth. Sometimes he wondered how it was possible for Alfred to know him for so long, and yet understanding him so little. The truth is, nobody could understand. “Don’t tell me what to do, Alfred. You are not my father. My father is dead, killed by criminals. So now I avenge his death by dressing like a bat.”

“No, I meant you can’t go out because you don’t have your trousers on.”

Batman glanced downwards, looking for his pants. They weren’t there.

“They’re still in the dryer,” Alfred continued. “If you give me a minute I’ll bring the iron and–”

“I knew that. I’m going out anyway. Prepare the car.”

“Yes, sir. The Aston Martin, sir?”

“No, the OTHER car…”

“Sir, the Chevrolet is at the shop.”

“No! No! The OTHER car!” Alfred stared at him, blankly. “The one shaped like bat!!”

“Ohhhhh…” Alfred nodded. “I don’t really think of it as a car. It’s more of a novelty item.”

“Shut up and do what I say,” Batman said, using his special voice. He usually reserved it for criminals, but Alfred was being pretty criminal-like today, what with all the hurtful remarks.

*****

“YOU ARE GOING TO DIE. TRY TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU,” said the lowlife criminal to the lady he was holding at gunpoint. The lady wondered if it was a good time to break wind, then decided it was always a good time to break wind. The lowlife criminal noticed, but being a gentleman, he didn’t mention anything.

“Not on my watch,” came a voice from behind. The criminal turned around upon hearing the word ‘watch’, since that was what he specialized on (it was the lady’s ROLEX what caught his attention, but he was soon disappointed to find out it was an imitation).

Batman stood directly behind the lowlife criminal, his cape opened to reveal the chequered boxers and pale legs undernearth. The lowlife criminal started rolling on the floor, laughing. The lady would have joined him, but she was feeling rather self-conscious, having just pooped herself a little.

Batman looked at the criminal, puzzled. “What is wrong with him?” he wondered. “Must be Joker gas.”

“…he’s dressed like a bat…” the lowlife criminal remarked, his eyes beginning to tear up from laughing too much. Batman’s eyes did the same, for completely different reasons.