“Thanks for inviting me.”  I clop into the Justice League’s voluminous conference chamber, looking appreciatively around as I halt before their iconic round table.  “Never thought you’d approve me for membership.”

“I didn’t,” Batman grunts.  “The others outvoted me six to one.  I have no idea why—inventing a martial art with your oversized penis hardly qualifies as a power or ability.  Fucking Diana,” he hisses, clenching his fists and bowing his head.  “Why can’t she see me for the alpha that I am?” 

I put my hands on my hips and chuckle good-naturedly.  “SOMEone woke up smelling the wrong end of the taint.  Wonder Woman insisted, huh?  Yeah, she’s hired me in the past—Man Whore’s gotta Man Whore, know w’um saying?”

“No, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Batman replies curtly.  “Now that I’ve given you the requisite tour, are we done with the questions?  Should’ve checked the goddamn roster—if I knew your onboarding was scheduled for today, I would’ve freed Joker so I could’ve gotten out of duty.”

I hold up my hands in a calm-your-tits gesture.  “Easy there, Buttfuck.  Just because I’m new—”

“It’s BATMAN.”

“—doesn’t mean you have to get all pissy with me.  Also, I’ve still got questions.  The main one being:  if you’re so rich, why not funnel all of your resources into charities and grants, instead of investing a giant chunk of it into nonlethal weaponry that never serves as a lasting solution, it only indulges your masochistic fantasy of inflicting massive amounts of pain on—”

He clutches his head in rage and frustration.  “AAAAGHH!  I’VE SAID IT A MILLION FUCKING TIMES—IT’S HOW I RESOLVE MY PERSONAL TRAUMA AND SIMULTANEOUSLY INSPIRE OTHERS TO BECOME VENGEANCE-DRIVEN BADASSES!  GOD!  WHY IS THAT SO HARD FOR YOU TO UNDER-FUCKING-STAND?”  He runs to the wall and barrages it with punches.  Tears of fury leak out of his mask. 

Time to get out of here.  Dude’s a nut, but he’s also a 99^th degree black belt in tons of martial arts.  “Uh, I think I’m done with the tour.”  An object on his chair catches my eye.  “Wait—you left something on your seat.”  I pick it up and turn it over.  It looks like matte black underwear, with a hardened bulge right in the middle.  “Wait…”  My eyes widen in dawning surprise.  “Is this a CODPIECE?  It all makes sense!  Unchecked aggression, small penis rage…”

He abruptly stops punching, swivels in place, and lasers in on me with a horrified gaze.  “No one can know!”  His mouth peels back in a murderous snarl.  “Gonna tear off your head and shit in the stump!”

FUCK.  No options left.  So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash. 

My wiener retracts from my sock, uncoils from my thigh, and rips free of my pants.  Guess the magic flash un-circumcised my foreskin, ’cause its smeg-filled cavity is ready for battle.  Right in the middle of Batman’s charge, my womb-hammer plops down onto his head—ka-SHLOOP—and deluges his face with a shitstorm of Gross.

“IT KILLS, IT KILLS!”  He thrashes from side to side, wrestling frantically with my prehensile anteater.  “DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, IT HURTS MY WILL TO LIVE!”  It’s like he’s wearing a disgustingly veiny, super-wrinkly version of an old-school diving helmet.  Only instead of air, he’s breathing in the world’s worst penis-cheese.  “HLGHGHHHBBHBBTT!!!”

A second later, he passes out and slumps to the floor. 

Diana walks in.  She eyes me, eyes him, then responds with a nonchalant shrug.  “Had it coming.  Come on, Kent—make your wiener revert back to normal.  I’ve got plans.”

“Yeah?”  I raise an eyebrow. 

“You, me, Selina, and Lois.  Let’s go.”  She beckons with a hand and starts walking out.

Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

Has Bruce given in to his simmering penis-envy, and pointed the entirety of it in your direction?  Never fear!  Buy my books, weaponize your genitals, and force him to question his shitty life choices!

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