Jonathan Crane wandered down the street, a muffin clutched in one gloved hand.
It was the weekend. All of his henchman had taken off, and Scarecrow had been forced to carry out quotidian tasks, such as getting food, himself. Feeling in the mood for a muffin, he had wandered over to the nearest bakery, sprayed the occupants with fear gas, and helped himself to some of the delectable baked goods while the others ran around in a panicked frenzy, illusions swirling around their toxin-fogged brains.
Once he had stepped outside and walked a safe distance away from any residual fumes, he tugged off his mask and took a bite out of the muffin.
Eugh...apple cinnamon. He threw it off to the side and dug around in the bag for another. Raisin bran…boring, that got tossed too. Oooh, banana coconut crunch! Taking a bite out of the superior muffin, Crane continued on his way back to the hideout.
Suddenly, he was aware of footsteps behind him.
Scarecrow sighed. Couldn't a genius go out to get a few muffins without being disturbed?
Turning to look at the mugger, he contemplated being nice and telling the man to bugger off. But the apple cinnamon muffin had left quite a sour taste in his mouth…besides, there were never too many times you could test a toxin.
Extending his gloved fingers, he released the mechanism, sending noxious fumes of toxic gas at the would-be mugger, using his other hand to tug his mask back on.
The man stopped dead in his tracks and swayed slightly, his eyes widening in terror.
"There, that should teach you to harass brilliant minds," Crane admonished, then turned to go.
The man screeched. "Noooo…nooo, too many..I don't…understand..STOP! Make sense damn you!"
Crane turned back. Interesting. He had expected a simple phobia like arachnophobia, or aquaphobia, or acrophobia. This was strange though. He watched the man totter around, stricken with fear.
"So…many…syllables! I can't bear…they're all around me! Why would someone come up with such nonsense! Speak English! Nooooooooo…not a seven syllable word! Nooo..NOOOOO!"
Crane stared, disbelieving. Then he began to laugh.
It was not a pleasant sound, blaring harshly through the silence around them. It was deep, and reverberated against the walls and sidewalks. The would-be mugger cringed.
Crane laughed until his side hurt, then clutched it with the hand that had been holding a muffin (he had dropped it about 15 seconds into the laughing), and laughed some more.
Finally, after about a minute, he stopped.
Still shaking with mirth, he regarded his muffin lying lost and alone on the cold, wet sidewalk. He shrugged, a bit disappointed to lose the muffin, but knowing he had others in the bag.
He started off again, leaving the criminal/victim behind him, wailing more about long words floating around his head.
After all, he thought to himself, it isn't every day you encounter someone with hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.