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!
FRED: I’VE EVEN TRIED TEA WITH LEMON—
GEORGE: RUINED A GOOD BANGERS AND MASH, HE DID.
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.
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.
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 BatGreen™ 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.