Men of Silver
“Jeez Louise, think you could turn the heat up in here? It’s freezing," Bruce Wayne grumbled,
wrapping his old cape around his shoulders.
Clark Kent yawned. He’d heard this gripe from his former team
mate before, “How many times do I have to tell you, you old bat, there isn’t a
thermostat in the Fortress. You always
underdress. Put on my slippers. They’ll warm you up.”
Bruce starred at his host, the prior Man of Steel and leaned
forward in his own recliner.
The awkward silence and eventual one word answered that
followed said it all, “Who?”
Agitated, Clark stripped off his identity suppressing
bi-focals and rubbed his less than super-eyes.
“What do you mean, ‘who’?
I didn’t say anything that required a ‘who’ for an answer. What are you
now, a damned owl? ”
Confused, Bruce pointed a finger at himself.
“No Clark. I’m Batman. Remember?” he sucked his dentures,
“It’s okay. I forget who I am sometimes too. Luckily, someone stitched my name
in my underwear,” he said, still pointing to his chest.
Clark patted his addled friend’s hand and sighed.
“Yes, Bruce. I know you all too well. We’ve fought many
battles together. Remember the epic war with Darkseid? You were magnificent in
that encounter. By the way, I ran into Darkseid at the Justice League
Retirement Community. He’s still a prick but with the glaucoma and
osteoarthritis, his once forbidding Omega Beams are only good for warming his
cocoa. Plus, it’s hard to get around in
a nano-second when you’re riding a hover-round.”
Bruce laughed. Clark missed
listening to his old comrade’s laugh. He enjoyed reminiscing about the good old
days where the good guys always vanquished the bad guys.
Bruce eagerly chimed in.
“Oh and you know who else is still hot?” he solicited with a
bony elbow to Clark’s weakening arm- apparently not hearing any of the
conversation.
“Lois Lane
“I think it’s time for you to go home, Batboy.”
Bruce slowly rose from his chair.
“Wow, time sure flies. Tell Alfred to bring the Batmobile
around.”
“Alfred’s dead, Bruce. He’s been dead for over 20 years,”
Clark snipped, no longer in the mood to circle the planet known as memory lane.
“I think he’s stealing my silverware,” Bruce hissed, shaking
a gloved finger in Clark ’s face, “I know he’s
been hiding my things. Yesterday, I found my codpiece in the breadbox. I should
fire him.”
Ushering Bruce out the fortress door, Clark rolled his eyes
which accidently set fire to couch. After a wicked coughing spell brought on by
emphysema, the Man of Steel finally managed to blow out the flames with his icy
breath.
“Damn cataracts,” Clark griped.
Knowing his old friend would need assistance traveling home
he enlisted a fellow superhero to be his traveling companion. Clark pulled
Bruce close and practically screamed in his ear.
“Bruce, Alan is going to take you home. You remember Alan
Scott? A.K.A Green Lantern?”
Alan offered an outstretched hand, “Good to see you Bruce.
It’s been too long.”
“Oh Alan, Alan Scott. Rumor has it you’re now one of those
queers, right?”
“I had to have this discussion with Robin so I’m going to
have it with you too. I just need to get one thing straight…ME. Got it?”
Alan bit his lip. The likes of the Joker and Penguin had
been his arch nemesis in the past but now the villains resided within him disguised
as years of concussions and the ravages of dementia. He was then and now
the Dark Knight. He forced an awkward smile.
“Good, now take me home. I’m freezing my bat balls off. Clark,
why don’t you turn on the heat? Your Fortress is as cold as the White Witches
tit,” he snickered.
Alan shot Superman a befuddled look. Clark waved and shuffled back inside. Patting Green
Lantern’s shoulder, Bruce grinned and shouted, “Up, up and away!”
And with a single invocation to the Earth and a lick of green
flame both Batman and Green Lantern were gone.
“That was my line…I think.”
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