Date: Sun, 15 Dec 1996 01:50:17 -0600 From: Danny Lloyd Subject: Re: INT: Bat Time CatWoman wrote: >"Just *great*," Catwoman growled. She was thinking of seriously going >alone when a car pulled into the drive way. There was no mistaking of >the owner's car. > >"Holy riddles," Robin said. "The Riddler." > >"Who's the Riddler?" the lady asked. > >"One of the sinister people I was talking about earlier," Catwoman >explained. "He likes to give the birdies a hard time with riddles >to his capers. Purrsonally, I prefer a more direct approach." > >"What's he doing at the Joker's?" Batman asked, giving Catwoman a mean >look, she only smiled innocently at him. > >"Isn't it obvious, Batbrain?" Catwoman hissed. "They're up to >something devious. But the more important questions are: Where's >Two-Face and what are they up to?" > >*I believe I can help with one of your questions, cat lady* Rhyannon's >voice rang inside everyone's head. *I can pick up the voices of this >Joker and Riddler persons. It might give us a clue as to what they >are planning.* > >"Purrfect," Catwoman purred. > >"I still say my plan would have been better," Robin said. > >"Think again," Catwoman unsheathed her claws. > >The Lady thought to Rhyannon, *Don't these people have odd names?* > >*True,* Rhyannon thought back. *But it's their planet. Who are >we to argue?* > >The Lady shrugged and Rhyannon turned her horn to the Joker's hideout >and begin to listen in... > >...to be continued... --------- "And then we take the boot to the place in the fog." The Joker's voice was unmistakable, except to Ryannon, who nevertheless did take note of its high-pitched, hysterical manner. "And we'll crawl in the wallsay and do the hoochie-coochie, and then we grab the other boot, but not until we first stop the bus." Ryannon appeared confused, but continued listening. Another voice now, perhaps the Riddler, "Yes, and we'll lead the way to the other side, as this side is lost forever." "Great," the Joker said, "its all decided. We'll meet back here during the first moon of the last swoon." Ryannon, assuming this was an unfamiliar earth dialect, related everything word for word. "Holy 'Crook's Code'," Robin said. "It changes all the time. Even Bat Man and I don't know its meaning." "Ah, that may be so, dear Robin," Bat Man interjected, "but we do have one clue." "What's that, moron?" Cat Woman asked. "The Joker spoke in Crook's Code, but the I bet the Riddler spoke in his usual riddling way. I'm sure of it. He loves to do that, you know." "Ah," the Lady on the Unicorn said. "All we have to do is deduce his meaning, then be on our way to find those we seek." "We'll lead the way to the other side, as this side is lost forever." Robin scratched his head, "what could it mean, Bat Man." "You got me kid," Bat Man said, but then caught himself, not wanting to appear dumb to the others. "That is to say, 'you got mekid'. Mekid. Its an old dutch term meaning 'to have the awareness needed to ask the most important question." And he definately had that awareness, right? He asked the most important question. Right? You see?" "Give it up, Batty Man," Cat Woman snickered. "You're just making yourself look even worse." "I'll show you the Dutch-English dictionary, sometime, Cat Woman," Bat Man said, "but in the meantime, what do *you* think the Riddler's statement means?" "Kitty Litter if I know," she said. Her eyes caught Bat Man's. His caught hers. They smiled at each other as the others stood very quietly, watching, unsure of what to think. The Gotham City wind sent a gentle whisper through the alley in which they stood. And the afternoon sun seemed to cast a soft spotlight on the man and woman dressed in tights, as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. Robin scratrched his head as he looked up, noticing not a cloud in the wide, blue, crystal-clear sky. -to be continued- --------------------- Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curious volume of E-MAIL while I nodded nearly napping I realized sumpin was hap'nin My computer began tapping, sorta rapping, rapping like it never did before Tis some virus entreating entrance to my hard drive's store Some late-night virus entreating entrance to my hard drive's store Will I e-mail nevermore? Ah distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December and my dying 486 wrought its ghost upon the floor Eagerly I wished the morrow Plainly I will need to borrow from someone surcease of sorrow through the loaning of one more rare and radiant 'pooter' that the salesmen name a 'loaner' nameless here till I get to the store