Here’s a little piece which I wrote for my Wroclaw Writing Group.
And for once, it’s got nothing to do with Brexit, so I thought I’d share it with you
Batman shook his flask vigorously and tucked it into his tool bag. A reassuring slosh told him that he wouldn’t have to face the long tram ride later without adequate fortification.
No Bat Mobile for him tonight.
‘Bloody humid, isn’t it?’ he remarked to Captain America. ‘Storm coming, I’d say.’
His moody, grim-faced companion ignored him, marching like a marionette away from the building site, the detritus of one dull day fading towards the dawn of another. Spores from the blossom trees danced on a warm spring wind like snowflakes, dying on his broad shoulders.
Batman said, ‘Fancy a beer?’
‘Fucked if I don’t,’ replied the Captain.
In they went, as they did every day.
‘What’ll it be?’ asked Wonder Woman, from behind the bar.
‘The usual,’ Batman replied, ‘Oh, and one for Superman. He’ll be here in a minute … caught in traffic.
And so it began.
The pointless banter.
The prelude to a rambling static that might someday, as if by magic, morph onto something of greater consequence: an actual meaningful conversation.
‘How long d’you think this job’ll last?’ Batman asked.
‘Maybe another three seasons,’ said Superman, taking his seat at the bar. ‘Depends, though, how long they allow Spiderman to fuck around with the cranes,’ he added, draining half his glass with one super gulp. ‘He’ll come to a sticky end, you know … get it?’
They did, but none of them found it funny.
Although Wonder Woman, polishing a glass, and wondering if Superman was actually that super, snickered politely. Wouldn’t you like to find out, thought Superman, who could actually read minds, but seldom found anything of any use.
‘I’ve got a question for your guys,’ said Batman.
They waited, pondering: Could. This. Be. The. Breakthrough Moment?
At length he continued.
‘We all have super powers, right?’
No one contradicted this.
‘Well … what is your favorite invention of … like … all time?
Finally Captain America spoke.
‘You are right, my friend, of course we all have extensive super powers. But there is no doubt in my mind,’ he said, ‘that the greatest invention over the last fifty years is Viagra. Forget going to the moon, smart phones, heart transplants… Viagra, and perhaps a back pocket full of boyish good looks – in other words, a fat wallet – is the way to go for us super senior citizens.’
‘Dear God,’ said Wonder Woman, the colour of her face matching her tunic.
Batman and Superman finished their pints, the moment passed and silence – as was normal – once again prevailed.