We're having a brief diversion today because this just unexpectedly brought an image to mind...
Stepping lightly "Batbutler!" "My name is Alfred, Sir. Not Batbutler." The tall, saturnine man in the black tuxedo set a long-stemmed crystal glass down on the table next to his billionaire boss. "Might one enquire why one's employer is wearing a tutu? And ballet slippers?" Alfred's voice was suave and not even remotely condescending. "I have to step so lightly around you! I can never tell when you're upset or when you're amused." "I am perpetually amused, Sir," said Alfred. "It comes with being British. We look at the world, and well, it's either laugh or cry. Sir." He arched an eyebrow. "I didn't listen to that. I am going undercover tonight, Batbutler, at the Bolshoi Ballet where Molly Golightly will be performing. I have a strong suspicion that she is actually La Gazza Ladra." "The jewel-thief, Sir? She will have a lot of targets here in Gotham." "Batboy! I know that Albert--" "Alfred, Sir. Like the Italian way of eating." "-- I'm not stupid. What?" "My name's not Batboy," said Robin, appearing in the doorway. He too was dressed to perform in the ballet, wearing sheer silk tights and a leotard, though to Alfred's eyes the only difference to his normal costume was this was less gaudy. "It's Robin. Only it's not that either, that's just what you insist on calling me instead of my real name." "You have a real name? Actually, nix that, I don't care. Alfred, what did you just say?" "The Italian way of eating, Sir: al freddo." "Isn't that al fresco?" "Not since Mr. Freeze took up residence in Rome, Sir." "Which you helped him do," said Robin. He pirouetted. "Do I look suitable, Al?" "Alfred, young Sir," said the butler with ponderous gravitas. "You look very nubile." "I banished Mr. Freeze from Gotham, batboy!" "You had the opportunity to put him jail, batorphan!" Robin's eyes flashed with anger. "But you let him go because you like to toy with people instead of letting them get resolution in their lives. You're a psychiatrists wet dream, you know? Your parents are dead, dead as doornails whatever that means. Stop living in the past and start doing your job instead of playing catch-and-release. Or at least let them rest of us do your damn job!" "Language, batboy!" "I swear like a sailor when you're not around, batty!" "Speaking of which," said Alfred gravely, "do I need to show anyone out, young Sir?" Robin blushed. "Two hundred bucks," he said, sounding almost shy. "Make sure they've not stolen anything." "Very good, young Sir," said Alfred. As he walked off the sounds of a long-hashed-over argument escalated behind him.
Greg - well, I was trying to help prompt the story along. I should probably stop doing that, seeing as you're quite adept (and practiced) at making my prompts work with whatever you're working on anyway.
And this... well, it certainly is an enjoyable diversion away from the bats I had been expecting to read about. All three of these guys brought a smile to my face :D
2 comments:
We're having a brief diversion today because this just unexpectedly brought an image to mind...
Stepping lightly
"Batbutler!"
"My name is Alfred, Sir. Not Batbutler." The tall, saturnine man in the black tuxedo set a long-stemmed crystal glass down on the table next to his billionaire boss. "Might one enquire why one's employer is wearing a tutu? And ballet slippers?" Alfred's voice was suave and not even remotely condescending.
"I have to step so lightly around you! I can never tell when you're upset or when you're amused."
"I am perpetually amused, Sir," said Alfred. "It comes with being British. We look at the world, and well, it's either laugh or cry. Sir." He arched an eyebrow.
"I didn't listen to that. I am going undercover tonight, Batbutler, at the Bolshoi Ballet where Molly Golightly will be performing. I have a strong suspicion that she is actually La Gazza Ladra."
"The jewel-thief, Sir? She will have a lot of targets here in Gotham."
"Batboy! I know that Albert--"
"Alfred, Sir. Like the Italian way of eating."
"-- I'm not stupid. What?"
"My name's not Batboy," said Robin, appearing in the doorway. He too was dressed to perform in the ballet, wearing sheer silk tights and a leotard, though to Alfred's eyes the only difference to his normal costume was this was less gaudy. "It's Robin. Only it's not that either, that's just what you insist on calling me instead of my real name."
"You have a real name? Actually, nix that, I don't care. Alfred, what did you just say?"
"The Italian way of eating, Sir: al freddo."
"Isn't that al fresco?"
"Not since Mr. Freeze took up residence in Rome, Sir."
"Which you helped him do," said Robin. He pirouetted. "Do I look suitable, Al?"
"Alfred, young Sir," said the butler with ponderous gravitas. "You look very nubile."
"I banished Mr. Freeze from Gotham, batboy!"
"You had the opportunity to put him jail, batorphan!" Robin's eyes flashed with anger. "But you let him go because you like to toy with people instead of letting them get resolution in their lives. You're a psychiatrists wet dream, you know? Your parents are dead, dead as doornails whatever that means. Stop living in the past and start doing your job instead of playing catch-and-release. Or at least let them rest of us do your damn job!"
"Language, batboy!"
"I swear like a sailor when you're not around, batty!"
"Speaking of which," said Alfred gravely, "do I need to show anyone out, young Sir?"
Robin blushed. "Two hundred bucks," he said, sounding almost shy. "Make sure they've not stolen anything."
"Very good, young Sir," said Alfred. As he walked off the sounds of a long-hashed-over argument escalated behind him.
Greg - well, I was trying to help prompt the story along. I should probably stop doing that, seeing as you're quite adept (and practiced) at making my prompts work with whatever you're working on anyway.
And this... well, it certainly is an enjoyable diversion away from the bats I had been expecting to read about. All three of these guys brought a smile to my face :D
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