His beads of sweat were as ample as stars in the sky. It was the kind of sweat that only comes during times of nervousness so intense, that it takes all the will power one can muster not to cry.
That’s the kind of night this was. His hands began to shake, in spite of his better judgement, like a diabetic in need of his shot. He slicked the stray strands of his curly brown hair away from his forehead. He stepped to the machine that had killed many a man better than he. He clicked the switch on the underside of the handle, and the silence of safety was gone.
The first shot was fired. He gave the audience in front of him a little greeting. He didn’t hear a response; so he had to assume to he didn’t hit his mark. He reloaded. It went like that for a little while. His actions were precise and very rehearsed. He heard some soft laughter from the other side and felt small relief. They were human, after all.
When asked, most veterans would tell you that it is a hard road to run, but if they were asked to do it all over again, they would. They also say, most don’t make it through their first encounter. All it takes is one mistake, one slip in the set plans for the shit to hit the fan, so to speak.
When he made that mistake it did, indeed, hit the fan. He suddenly realized he should have taken Uncle Sam’s advice and joined the army.
“The clerk looks the man straight in eye and says…” the most intense embarrassment he had ever felt in all his twenty-two years washed over him like a geyser, “…uh, … actually, I don’t remember exactly what he said.” He gave out a very nervous chuckle.
The audience didn’t return it.
He wanted to die. That was pure and simple. Death would have been so warmly and happily accepted at that moment. There are few professions with more emotional turmoil than that of a stand-up comedian.
They began to yell at him with every vulgar word that had ever been uttered by man. Those who had empty bottles to throw did. He edged his way off the stage. A bottle with a full sip of beer remaining in it left a drunken man’s hand and crashed upon the back of the comedian’s head. He let out a yelp, and tumbled down the three steps of the stage.
He looked up to see a large hand reaching towards him. It was the club’s star comic. He helped him up and asked him if he was okay. The embarrassed man looked into his eyes and saw what all humans hate to see for themselves. It was pity. It would remind him of when he was in school and would be picked on. Some pretty girl would help him get up after the other kids had pushed him down. He would look into the girl’s eyes and see pity, and he would hate himself over it. No man likes pity, apart from spoiled little rich boys.
He assured the man that he was fine. He brushed himself off and grabbed his hat off the rack behind him. The smell of cigar smoke filled his nostrils, and he turned around.
The club manager was standing in front of him with an angry look across his round face.
"What the hell happened out there?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Brokaw, it won't happen again."
"See to it that it doesn't. If you were being paid, I'd fire you. I don't need bad acts clouding the set list."
"Yes, sir."
The rank Mr. Brokaw turned and walked back into his office. It was only then that the comedian began to think of things that he should have said to him.
He walked out the door of the club and headed for his car. He heard laughter to his side. It was warm and friendly. He started towards the group of kids that were in a circle laughing, and decided to maybe try and make a few friends.
As he got closer, he noticed that they would look over at him for a moment, return to the circle then laugh again. Relaxation hit him like an ice bullet. They were laughing at him. The butt of another joke.
Returning to his car, he buried his head in his hands on the roof of the car. The sigh he let out would have depressed an angel. He felt inside of jacket pocket and pulled out the jewelry box that had been sitting there for a month now.
"Jeannie..."
He smiled. If she would say yes, it would make it all worth while. Being the pessimist he was, he realized she probably wouldn't say yes, anyway.
He got in his car and turned the key. The rusting automobile gave a cry of resistance and then started. He drove off in a puff of exhaust.
As he drove home he fiddled with the radio stations.
The beautiful music flooded the inside of the car, and for a brief moment, he was happy.
The song reminded him of Jeannie. His life would be complete with her, even though he knew he didn't deserve her.
He would never be enough. He would always be worthless. He looked out his side window and noticed he was on the bridge.
He pulled over and looked over the edge. The crashing water below beckoned to him.
He looked out over the city and made a face. Gotham was a hellhole. There were no values anymore. It seemed that was represented when the Waynes were shot and killed when he was a kid. He remembered the entire city was depressed. They were Gotham's Kennedys. What kind of person killed such wonderful people?
He decided not to jump. Maybe someday he would have the courage. Maybe someday he would be happy. Maybe someday he would have a lovely family.
It was a possibility.
But, then again, what isn't?
II.
In college, he was the top in his class. When it came to chemistry, he was practically an open book.
He interned at the Ace Chemical Plant. He followed around one of the leading chemists, filing, fetching coffee, and basically just looking over his shoulder. He kept his mouth shut most of the time, and the chemist liked it that way. He didn’t like the idea that he had some stupid kid following him around all the time.
One day, he gave him a copy of equations he had done on a new experiment. Curious as he was, the young lad decided to look them over. Right away, he found a flaw in the chemist’s logic. When he presented the problem to him, he was fired on the spot, of course.
The next day, he received a call from the Ace Plant offices. They said that they were very sorry for the injustice, and although they weren’t going to give him back his internship, there was a much better job waiting for him as soon as he graduated college.
That was three years ago. He had now sat at this desk for two months. He had dreamed of being like the chemist, and making a difference in the world of science.
Truth is, he was doing just about the same thing he did as an intern, only he didn’t follow anyone around. He just filed at his desk. He knew that he had to climb the corporate ladder, and the money that had come in the last two months was very decent.
It just wasn’t fulfilling. He longed for importance. He had been a shadow his whole life. All he needed was a little more practice and the comedian gig would come through. He was sure of it.
He had a few vials of test substances for reference while he typed. A new wave of emotion swept him. Hatred. He hated this job. He absolutely loathed it. An awkward grin graced his lips. His brow furrowed. His hand effortlessly knocked over a beaker half-filled with iodine. It fell upon the carpet under his feet and spread.
“What the hell were you thinking?” A gruff, aged voice boomed behind him. He recognized it immediately. It was the chemist. The one who fired him three years ago.
“I suppose I was thinking about how much I wanted to knock that beaker over. It was a New Year’s resolution of mine to always follow through with my plans, “ his grin and relaxed eyes remained fixed.
“I don’t believe you realize who you’re talking to, young man.”
“With all due respect, sir, I do believe you’ve got your head right up your big fat ass. I quit.”
He smiled his smile, and waited for the chemist to apologize, to offer him a better salary, to give him a better job, perhaps.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
The smile left and gave way to an expression of surprise. Just like that? Why was he so easy to get cast aside? Was he so close to nothing?
Fifteen minutes later he was packing all his personal belongings from his desk into a small cardboard box; a paperweight, a picture of Jeannie, and a small framed poster that read “You Don’t Have to Be Crazy to Work Here… But It Helps!”
He did, however, manage to defy authority one more time before he left. He let the door hit him on the way out.
Once again, he found himself with his back against his car fighting tears.
“What the hell was I thinking?”
He had just thrown away his paycheck. What’s more, he couldn’t remember exactly why he did it. He just seemed to snap for a moment. No matter, he though to himself, the stand-up gig will come through.
I’ll be fine.
Once again he felt the shape of the jewelry box through his pocket. Once he again he found himself smiling.
We’ll be fine.
Tonight was the night.
III.
As he opened the door to the apartment building, an odious smell immediately filled his nostrils. He most certainly did not want to bring Jeannie here tonight. He had made reservations at the Four Seasons for them to dine. Until then he had to wait.
He hung his coat on the hook beside the door and placed his box of belongings that he had taken from his work desk and put them on the coffee table. He saw a mug sitting on the table and developed a craving for the brewed beverage. He looked down into the mug and saw the crusty ring from a far-previous cup of coffee sitting at the bottom of the cup. On instinct he walked over to the sink to wash it out. He turned the knob of the faucet, and the disappointment of realization struck him. The water had been the delightful shad of mud for the past 3 days. No coffee today. “That’s probably why I wanted so badly, at least the shower still runs fine.” he said aloud to himself.
-You have two messages In Answering Box-
The answering machine beckoned from the next room with a blinking red light.
“This is Dr. Parker. Ace Chemicals. You can pick up your last paycheck on Friday. And, frankly, Mr. - -“
-Next Message-
“Hi, honey. It’s, Jeannie. I’ll need you pick me up ten minutes late. I’m not gonna get out of class until a little later than I thought. Ok, I better get to the art studio. Love you, bye.”
-End of Messages-
He smiled. Jeannie had entered college late. She graduated in a few months. They had dated since high school. High School. God, it all seemed like so long ago. He realized how unique that was. Most high school relationships are considered sacred if they last a month.
He showered and shaved. As the stubble of three days washed down the sink’s drain, he looked into his own eyes and felt that brief flash of ego that all men feel for a half second every time they shave and comb. He flexed and made a few faces in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom to open his closet.
He dressed in a green three-piece suit and a green bow tie. Of course didn’t know that. He was, indeed, very colorblind. Jeannie always teased him for that. He figured once (if) they were married, she would label all his clothing with notes that said “Red”, “Green”, “Flannel”, and so forth. Or perhaps just enjoy seeing him make an ass of himself as he wore a bright orange suit with a blue tie to jury duty.
“All in good time,” he said aloud to himself, again.
A few splashes of cologne, and he was out the door. For the first time today, there was a pleasant smile on his face. That ended abruptly.
“You got the rent?”
He turned to see old Mrs. Burkiss, the building owner.
“Err… no, not yet, Mrs. Burkiss, sorry.”
“Well you damn well better get on top of it.”
“Yes ma’am.”
On the way to Jeannie’s, he decided not to think about the rent for right now. That was a bridge he’d burn when he came to it. Finance was all of a sudden frightening. Nothing he had was up to standard. His Buick sputtered in confirmation.
One thing at a time. Pace yourself.
At the apartment complex Jeannie where lived, he parked and unbuckled his seatbelt to get out. The car door opened on the passenger side.
“Oh, hi honey, I didn’t see you out there, I –“
That was not Jeannie.
“Shut you mouth, stickman!”
A man with a knife and a pair of pantyhose over his head faced him.
“Look... I- - I don’t ha - - have any money. Oh God, please!”
“Man, are you gonna cry? Shit, I love it when they do that. Come on, pissy-pants, why don’t you- - URK!”
The door behind the criminal opened and he toppled to the pavement. The frightened man looked down at him and then up to see Jeannie, as a masonry brick dropped from her hand.
“Jerk.”
He just looked up at her with his eyes as wide as saucers.
She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and smiled.
“Hi honey. We ready to go?”
They arrived at the Four Seasons a little late, for obvious reasons.
“A pretty eventful evening so far. Let’s see what surprises dinner has in store for us, shall we?” he joked.
“Yes, let’s. I’m famished.”
He gave the man his last name and told him party of two.
“No- - I’m afraid you’re table is no longer available sir.”
“Pardon?”
“We have a policy of waiting for a table occupants for approximately 10 minutes before no longer holding them under reservation.”
“Listen, sir, you have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“Nor do I care, sir. Please remove yourself and try to keep a schedule next time.”
“Listen, you pompous, windy, son of a-...”
“Come on, hon, don’t make a fuss,” Jeannie grabbed his arm. He pulled away.
“Like hell, I won’t!”
“Dear… please.”
He raised his pointed index finger one more time as if to say something, but let out a frustrated breath.
“Come on. Let’s go, Jeannie.”
“Well, there’s not much else open this time of night in Gotham in ways of food.”
“Oh, wait! There’s something!”
“…. I guess we’re out of choices.”
They must have been the two best-dressed customers that Burger King had seen in quite some time.
As they sat with their fast food, they didn’t speak much. He decided to leave the ring in his pocket. Well, maybe, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should…
“Will you marry me?” Jeannie spoke up.
“What?”
“I want us to get married.”
He laughed. He took the ring box opened it and slid it over to her across the table.
“That’s funny. I was fixing to ask you the same thing.”
They both laughed till they were almost in tears. Then they stood and embraced. The kiss that soon followed gave the drunken teenagers behind them quite a show.
IV.
“No.”
“But, I- -“
“Oh, shut up, man! I’m tired of it! Every time you screw up, you give me some sob story. Uh-uh. This time, you’ve blown it.”
“Sir, please, this is my only source of income right now; I need this. Stand-up is the only thing I’m good at!”
“I’m not gonna even dignify that with a response.”
“Sir, I need to make a paycheck. I’ll do anything.”
The fat comedy-club owner looked up at him. In the dim lights of his office, our failed comedian could not see into his eyes.
“Anything?”
He nervously nodded his head wishing he could see his eyes.
--
His knuckles were white as he clenched onto the steering wheel. Fright. Yes, that was indeed the emotion going through him. Shame accompanied it. He had been nothing but one disappointment after another ever since they had married.
They had gotten married 7 month prior to this moment. That, in itself, would not have proposed such a problem. One month after the ceremony, Jeannie told him something.
--
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?!? How are you sure?”
“Well, obviously the first sign was I missed my…”
“OK, ok, yeah, go on.” There are some things guys just can’t stand to hear about.
“So I decided to take a pregnancy test and… well…”
--
She was pregnant. They hadn’t meant for it to happen, but that obviously didn’t matter now.
He had began to ponder how he was going to support Jeannie and himself, but now he had to worry about a third mouth to feed. In all logical terms, he was screwed.
--
The moment he got out his car, a thunderclap boomed. In response, an instant downpour fell upon him. He looked at his soaked coat sleeve.
“Yeah, well, it fucking figures.”
--
As he walked up the stairs he smelled the scent of hair perm solution. It was Mrs. Burkiss. She held her ugly one-eyed cat, Lenin, in her arms.
“Well?”
“No, Mrs. Burkiss, I don’t have it.”
“Well, I guessed as much. I hear Jeannie’s pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe your bitch should have kept her legs shut! Then, maybe, you wouldn’t be in such a situation. Would you?”
“Now you listen here, you shriveled old- -!”
“Two months.”
“Two months?”
“Two months. At the end of which, you and your whore are out.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Your eviction notice. I’d start smoothing out a place in the alley to sleep, if I were you.”
And just like that she was gone. The apartment was gone. They were gone.
He climbed the stairs, and took hold of the doorknob. He was overcome with fear, but especially anger. He took a deep breath and swore not to take anything out on Jeannie. He turned the knob, took a deep breath, thought a quick prayer, and opened the door.
--
Jeannie was sitting at the dining table. She had the laundry hung out to dry behind her, over the sink area. He looked at the cheap fan blowing towards her. She had constantly felt extremely hot since 4 months into the pregnancy. He took off his hat and held it behind his back. She looked up at him with a tired look on her face.
“Well? How did it go? Did they like your act?”
He walked over to the table and put his jacket on the chair. “Well, they, uh… they said they might call me,” he let out a grunt of frustration, “I dunno, I, I got nervous and messed up a punchline.
She sighed. “Oh.”
He turned and got right in her face, rage had overcome his eyes.
“What do you mean, ‘Oh.’?”
I… I didn’t mean anything!…”
“Yes you did. The way you said it: ‘Oh.’ Like that.
“Jesus, all I said was…”
“You said ‘Oh’, as in ‘Oh, so you didn’t get the job?’ as in ‘Oh, so how are we supposed to feed the baby?’ You think I’m not worried about that?”
He turned away from her; the grief was beginning to overcome him. “You think, you think I don’t care, that it’s all a big joke to me or something. Jeez, I have to go, I have to and stand up there, and nobody laughs, and you think, you think I…”
His lips quivered. His eyes glazed. He gave up. The tears came. He turned and fell to his knees and cried in this lap of his wife like an infant.
“Oh God.” His voice shook horribly.
“Oh baby…”
“Oh God, I’m sorry…” He tried to sniff the tears away.
“I don’t mean to take it out on you. You’re suh-suffering enough, being to married to a loser.”
“Honey, that’s not…”
He cut her off. “It’s true. I can’t support you. Oh Jeannie, what are we going to do?” He rose out her lap and wiped his eyes. He walked to the window and looked out onto the Gotham streets, and let out a groan.
“It’ll be okay. Junior won’t be here for another three months, and I think Mrs. Burkiss will let the rent go a little longer. She feels sorry for me.”
He cast his eyes back, not wanting to face her. He decided not to tell her just now.
“She hates me. She comes out into the hallway to scowl at me every time I go upstairs. This house stinks of cat litter and old people. I’ve got to get you out of here before the baby comes.” He didn’t want to lie, but he already dug a hole, mine as well jump in it.
“I just want enough money to get set up in a decent neighborhood.” A frustrated laugh escaped his lips. “There are girls on the street who earn that in a weekend without having to tell a single joke.”
A beautiful, angelic sound arose behind him. He turned to listen to Jeannie’s laughter. She reached her hand out to him.
“Honey, don’t worry. Not about any of it. I still love you, y’know? Job or no job, you’re good in the sack…” She pulled him in close to her “...and you know how to make me laugh.”
Before the night was over he proved how good he was on both accounts.
V.
GIANT HUMAN-BAT WALKING GOTHAM STREETS?’
‘Cat Burglars, Drug Lords, Rapists, and Money Launderers. All have a late motif in their life. They’ve all tangled with Gotham’s most debated subject in the news this past month, the Bat-Man.
No one but criminals has yet to see the enigmatic 6 ft. Bat. This fact leads most experts to believe he is nothing more than a rumor. Police Lieutenant Gordon confirmed that investigations were indeed underway to uncover the truth of the matter, however...’
--
“Nonsense.”
“What, hon?”
He took another sip of his coffee and put the newspaper on the table. “Oh, this whole ‘Bat-Man’ thing. It’s just something criminals came up with so they could plead insanity after they were in court. Anything to make a buck, I suppose.”
“Oh, now, where have I heard that before?”
“Hey, call me crazy, but I think there’s a subtle difference. Do I sell cocaine and pimp the girls out on the street to support you? …Hmm. Now there’s an idea.”
She let out a chuckle and went back to reading her book. They spent most of their mornings talking here at the breakfast table anymore. He looked at his watch. 8:45 A.M.
Not taking her eyes from the book, she spoke up again. “I bought a baby-bottle warmer last night, I hope you don’t mind. I’ll test it out later today. Did the club owner ever call you like he said he would?”
“No, and I’m beginning to wonder.” It wasn’t a lie. The owner did say he was going to call him, even though he was told he would never be able to take the stage again. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had in mind, but it was bound to be better than nothing, wasn’t it?
The phone rang.
Jeannie looked up and her eyes lit with excitement. “Oh! Do you think it might be him?”
He raised his eyebrows and backed his chair to get up. “Here’s hopin’.”
“Hello?”
“It’s Brokaw, from the Fog”
“Oh, hello! I’ve been looking forward to your call Mr. Brok—“
“Yeah, yeah, look, you still up for makin’ some dough?”
“Yessir.”
“At any cost?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Err… define ‘any cost’.”
“How do you feel about breaking the law.”
“Sir, I don’t think time in jail is going to improve my situation much.”
“Don’t be a puss, man. We have ways of making sure no one will connect you with the crime.”
“Uh, I don’t think- -“
“You want your wife and kid to starve, man?”
“I… I- - ...no.”
“Good, now I want you to meet us down at Luskey’s Grill at noon.”
--
“Well? Was it him?”
“Yes. He wants to meet me for lunch today.”
“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Lord, I hope so.”
VI.
The law.
He had never broken it. Not in the intensity that he was sure the club owner was expecting, anyway. This was going to be something big. You don’t call someone with an intense amount of secrecy to arrange a meeting to make a plan to steal a candy bar from the local 7-Eleven.
But then there was Jeannie. No more decision-making. Start the car.
--
He walked into Luskey’s Grill. He looked around. This was not a family eatery. A man with a broken bloody nose twitched on the floor. A drunken woman flashed the bartender and was offered a free beer. A decent man walking in here was just asking to be robbed. It was a good thing he didn’t have any money. He scanned the room with his eyes and spotted the fat club owner at a table with another man, who was unfamiliar. The club owner waved him over.
“Glad to see you came out. I half expected you to turn tail and run. This is my friend and colleague, you can call him Spider.” He motioned towards the man sitting next to him. He was tall and thin and sported a pin-stripe mustache.
“Spider?”
Spider offered his hand to be shaken. “A name I earned in my younger days. Pleased to meet you, my friend.”
“Hello.” He stammered. He was pretty frightened with it all. “N—Now, Mr. Brokaw…”
“Call me Joe,” the club owner offered.
“Uh, Joe, what exactly are, uh, are we planning on… y’know, doing?”
“We’ll get to that later, have a bite to eat.” He indicated a basket of crawfish setting in the middle of the table. “We took the liberty of ordering you a drink.” There was a glass of beer sitting on the table in front of him.
Spider put a cigarette in his mouth and raised his hands up to light it. “Now…” he exhaled a puff of smoke, “…I understand you used to work down at Ace Chemical Processing?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the security like over there?”
“Pretty much non-existent. I, I mean they have a few cameras, yeah, b-but nothing major.”
Joe and Spider looked at each other and smiled.
“Heh. Cool.”
He began to understand where this conversation was going.
“So h-how much am I going to get out of this?” he asked very shakily.
Joe spoke up, “The job? If it all goes to plan, we split whatever we get into thirds. Even-Steven.”
That sounded good. Real good.
“I just need the extra cash for a booster. After that I can set my family up real nice. Y’see… Y’see, I have to prove myself as a husband, and, and as a father! I mean, I, well, I wouldn’t be doing this sort of thing if, if it wasn’t something important.” He took a drink and reached for a crawfish.
“It’s like, I began as a lab assistant, right? Was a good job. Real good job. So, what I did, I quit to become a comedian. I was so sure. So sure I had talent.”
Spider and Joe listened to his story, pretending to be interested.
“But…” he let a small chuckle, “…well, look at me. I guess my talents didn’t lie in that direction. So, you see, like, if I just do this one big crime…”
Spider’s eyes got real wide. “Hey, jeez, man, be cool. People in this place got ears, y’know?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t usually drink lunchtimes…” He watched as Spider pulled a bag from under the table, but continued talking, “It’s just, if you’re sure we can get away with this thing and that nobody will know I was involved…”
Joe began pulling the legs out of a fresh crawfish. “Don’t worry, friend. We’ll take care of you.”
Spider got the bag in his lap and started fishing around in it.
When he was done shelling the crawfish, Joe shoved it in his mouth, probably in hopes of shutting him up. “We need your help getting through that chemical plant where you worked to the playing card company next door. We really appreciate your expertise.”
Spider evidently found what he was looking for in the bag, as he then spoke up, “So, like, to absolutely guarantee nobody connects you with the robbery…” He opened the bag and showed off it’s contents. “…You’ll be wearing this.”
In the bag there was what looked like an upside down red glass bucket, only rounded off on the end, not flat.
“Wearing…?” He looked at the oddly familiar glass hood. B-but there are no eye-slits. I won’t be able to see.”
Spider smiled, “There’s these lenses o’ red two-way mirror glass set into it. Pretty smart stuff, right?”
Then it was all too clear where he had seen the mask before. “I, I dunno. That mask… isn’t it the one that Red Hood guy wears who raided that ice company last month?”
Spider rolled his eyes, “Smarten up. There ain’t no “Red Hood.” There’s just a bunch of guys. And a mask.”
Joe broke in, “Right! It doesn’t matter who’s under the hood. We just sort of let the most valued member of the mob wear it for, uh, additional anonymity.”
Spider shook his head, “Sure! The most valued member. That’s you man.”
The looked at each other and gave a low snicker under their breath, making him uneasy. He made a half-hearted attempt at backing out.
“Ahhh, look, really, I don’t know… that chemical plant’s so grim and ugly. That’s partly why I quit.”
Spider didn’t care, “But you said there’s minimal security, man.”
“Listen, do you want to raise your kid in poverty?”
He jumped to defend himself, “No, no of course not. You’re right. I mean it’s just this once, then I can switch neighborhoods and start a proper life…”
“That’s the attitude! So… next Friday night, at eleven?”
He gave out a sigh and slapped his hands on his legs. “Sure. Why not?” He laughed “Friday it is! And then, starting from Saturday morning, I’ll be rich. Oh man, I can’t imagine it. My life’s going to be completely changed.
“Nothing’s going to be the same…
“…Not ever again.”
--
He excused himself and drove home feeling pretty damn good.
