Bad news

(Note: I wrote this straight after I read the news.  I’m ashamed of my reaction now, but I want to publish it because it demonstrates just how much of an arsehole I can truly be.  Also, it explains the next thing I’m publishing.)

Bad news should always come with a warning so you don’t feel so damn stupid afterwards.  I did all the normal, morning things.  Like brushing my teeth (back-forth, back-forth, rinse, spit), filling the kettle, grilling a teacake– a bleedin’ teacake.  Then stumbling into the lounge with my little plate, with its little buttered breakfast and my little mug of coffee and turning on the goddamn computer like everything was o-freaking-kay.

But it wasn’t, was it?  That had happened.  And the screen was glowing in my face with those bloody words shining out in reverse across my spam-shiny forehead. 

And I’m sinking, sinking way down, dissipating, water leeching into me and I’m dissolving into it.  I’m losing myself in the osmosis of reality that eats away at me till I am all disappeared.

My opinion, my belief, my hopes and dreams are nought in this universe, existing only in my head.  I mean nothing.  I am nothing…

‘So I’m Ben Affleck now.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know – he might do a good job of it.  They see something in him.’

‘Yes, yes of course.  It will probably turn out for the best.’

The way I stare into my breakfast tells him I don’t believe that at all.

‘Say – shall we ask them to get Bale back?’

I snort.  ‘No, ta.’

‘Or Clooney?  Ole’ George again?’

‘Yeah – and the other bloke, what was his name?’

‘Chris O’Donnell,’ he replies.  He remembers all the things I don’t. 

‘Look’, he says – ‘this news doesn’t mean anything.  Not to me anyway.  It really doesn’t matter.’

Exploding now: ‘But it does mean something!’ I shout.  ‘You are out there, every night risking your life for us.  You have to wear this,’ I say, lifting his cape, ‘so that no-one else has to.  You have sacrificed everything just so we can sleep safe at night.  And what do we give you in return?  Ben Affleck, Batman!  BEN….AFFLECK!’

Batman now - ‘What’s the poor guy ever done to you?  Does he really deserve this vitriol?  No, no-one does.  So let’s just reel in the crazy for a moment and calm down, shall we?  And yes – this is actually me saying that, so if I think you’re acting deranged it must be bad.  Calm down.’

I look at him now.   It’s the first time I’ve felt able to meet his gaze since he arrived.  He looks…he looks Batman.  Non-plussed.  Does he not get it?

‘But he isn’t you, Batman.  He isn’t you.’

He shifts round on the sofa.  He’s thinking he can talk some sense into me.  Good luck with that today.  ‘Joe, who the heck is?’

Urgh.

‘And besides, when was the last time you bothered to go to the movies?  Or watched a blu-ray of a movie?  Exactly.  I have watched more films than you.  Me - The Batman, who barely has time to poop, has watched more movies than you.’

Urgh.

‘So, not only do you have no right to an opinion of a man whose work you have never watched, but also you should reserve your judgement for when you actually see this new film.  But, oh! - I almost forgot!  YOU DON’T WATCH MOVIES ANYWAY…!’

Urgh.

‘Forget about it.  Eventually we’ll put Operation Mr. Freeze into action.  Remember that one we talked about?’

‘Yup.’

‘We place you into cryogenic stasis and wake you up when technology has progressed to the point where dead actors can be recreated perfectly on screen.  And we’ll cast our Batman film with Jack Palance as the Joker, Robert Mitchum as Two-Face.  Ava Gardner as Catwoman and me played by Gregory Peck.  Perfect, huh? ’

‘A teacake?  What was I thinking?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Oh nothing.  Yes, perfect.’

‘Right!’ he stands, unfurling like a big, black umbrella you’d find handy in monsoon season.  ‘I have to go.  Now, are you going to work on your dissertation today because that’s the important thing?’

‘I promise – absolutely.’

And he’s gone.