Batman wants me to write about him.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask.
“Just anything,” he replies.
And then he looks over my shoulder and says “Oh, don’t write that!”
But I tell him he deserves it. And he does, really, for the previous transgression of captioning photos “You should take a photo and put it on Twitter.” and the like.
He is currently playing on his DS, swearing angrily at Yoshi and Mario. He wants me to clarify that it’s actually “Yoshi as Mario.”
I remember now – he did mention earlier that Yoshi was wearing a Mario hat. His beeps and boops are interposed by “YEAH!” “GET THE FUCK AWAY, YOU FUCKING SHITHEAD! THAT’S MY FUCKING SILVER STAR! I NEED THAT!”
Then he made me read all of this back to him, after complaining, “but I’M the one who puts real people in my writing!”
“I do need it, though! I need five of them! I’ve only got three, and I don’t know where one is, it’s tormenting me.”
“I just don’t know how this fits into your personal brand. No, make sure that you write that, because I feel like it fits well into this character that you’re creating.”
So, things about Batman, this character I’m creating.
He’s a real swell writer. A published poet, as he likes to point out. He’s hilarious, mostly. Except when he’s driving me round the twist. His favourite hobby is convincing me that he doesn’t understand pop culture references that I make. Straight-up lying. The frequency has died down, but that just means I’m less likely to see it happening.
He has a great beard. And some questionable rapping abilities. He’s pretty good at Mario, too – or dedicated, anyway. His car has a broken window and he has several Fringe awards. He owns more Popular Penguins than I do, and also has a copy of Sarah Laing’s The Fall of Light, which impressed me.
Despite his Mario commentary (“oh MAN, it’s LITERALLY raining bombs on me. I don’t know what that means, but it’s probably a really potent metaphor”), he’s really very eloquent. When he wants to be. But you probably knew that. He loves Doctor Who. You also probably knew that. I felt as though I’d passed an important test (spoiler alert – I probably did) when I managed to successfully name the actors of all of the (TV) doctors of days gone by.
He says “hey, Merf” (but spells it “Murf”) whenever I mention my sister. He just looked at the screen and did it then. Like his words are automatically eaten up by my computer screen or phone and end up relaying a message out to Waterview.
Now he is pointedly saying things that are beyond dreadful, grinning (I can see him in the glow from our screens (and following up with “I’m just saying these things so that you won’t write them.”
He knows how to play this game. (And Mario. He found all the stars.)