Acrophobia Minima

This could get complicated.
This could get complicated.

GEORGE: PLEASE, MATE, YOU’VE GOT TO GET UP.
ME: What are you…it’s six AM, what are you doing? Get off my pillow.
GEORGE: PLEASE! IT’S AN EMERGENCY.
ME: *grabs shoes*

ME: *shivering* What the everliving…
FRED: OH, THANK HEAVENS. EVEN TEA DOESN’T WORK.
tinyBATMAN: AUGH! ARRRRGH! ARRGH!
ME: *stares*
FRED: I’VE EVEN TRIED TEA WITH LEMON
GEORGE: RUINED A GOOD BANGERS AND MASH, HE DID.
ME: I…um…
tinyBATMAN: BAAAAAAAAANE!

ME: Okay, help me out, why is he on the roof?
GEORGE: BECAUSE HE’S BATMAN?
FRED: I TOLD GEORGE TO WATCH FOR THE IVY, THERE’S A PATCH OF IT NEXT DOOR–
GEORGE: AND THEN HE YELLS “POISON IVY”–
tinyBATMAN: WHERE? WHERE IS SHE? BAAAAAAANE!
ME: Oh, boy.
FRED: THAT’S NOT THE REAL PROBLEM, THOUGH.
tinyBATMAN: IIIIIIIIVY! BAAAAAAAANE!
ME: Good Lord, he’s loud. *grabs tinyBATMAN* Ouch! Motherfucker!
GEORGE: WHAT HAPPENED?
FRED: *in tones of awe and dismay* HE BIT HER.

ME: *hunching in a huddle with two Aussie ceramic squirrels, shaking my wounded hand* Okay, so he threw his lovely sausage breakfast on the floor and climbed screaming up to the roof, but that’s not the real problem? Help me out.
tinyBATMAN: *hyperventilates*
GEORGE: GO ON, TELL HER. *starts to giggle*
ME: If this is a prank, you little gob–
FRED: IT’S A SECRET. HE TOLD US IN CONFIDENCE. I CAN’T IN GOOD CONSCIENCE–
ME: Oh, for God’s sake.
tinyBATMAN: *whimpers* Baaaaaane…
GEORGE: *still giggling* HE’S AFRAID OF HEIGHTS.
ME:

We put tinyBatman back to bed, and Fred was all for tying him down, but George ran over to Emphysema Joe, who dipped into his Secret Stash of SuperStrong BatGreenā„¢ and things quieted a bit. Fred’s looking a little ragged from all this, and I suggested we find a full-time minder for poor tinyBatman.

George suggested a friend of his named Selina, but I nixed THAT idea right quick. We’ll see.