A/N Friends little sister just had to do one of these, and their adopted, so I just got to thinking about these guys. Yeah, that's how much I'm entertained by my life. Also been reading alot of Douglas Adams and Neil Gaimen lately, so it's gonna be along those lines...as if you care...also kind of changed the ages...
Alfred Pennyworth stood in the center of the office, feeling more then a bit irritated.
A women with slightly less then sunny desposition chattered on the school's telephone, which Alfred was sure she hadn't payed for on her own. Another women who reminded him of a chicken with an eagle's beak looked a him down her long nose, tapping her equally long finger nails against the placid metal desk.
"He'll be right out." she said off-handedly, as though she hadn't repeated the same phrase not five minutes ago. Alfred stared.
The 'he' in question, for those concerned, would be a young Richard Grayson, otherwise known as Dick, Robin, Nightwing, The Boy Wonder, or, if your the sort, that strange boy with colorful underwear. Of course, that would be years from this moment that Alfred Pennyworth finds himself in. No, this moment, that is, he is Richard 'Dick' Grayson, third grader at Gotham Elementary School, collector of oddly shaped erasers and ex-circus freak who was the last living person able to do the quadruple somersault. Not to brag.
The man Alfred Pennyworth was, in fact, this boy's butler, which would explain his stiff disposition and rather uncomfortable looking suit.
Dick came out of the principal's office, his cheeks flushed and his teeth clenched, followed by the assumed principal, abviously feeling better about himself then a public school principal should. As Dick stomped next to Alfred, the chubby man extended a fat hand towards the butler, who carefully avoided it. He began to say something--an introduction, Alfred was sure--but he thoroughly ignored it, excusing himself and the 3rd grader without much as a single glance towards the glaring secretaries.
Once they were outside of the rather dull building, Dick asked, "Don't you wanna hear what I did?"
"That all depends, doesn't it." replied Alfred.
Dick thought about it. "What?"
Alfred did not reply. They walked to the car--sleek, compared to the other rusted, grime encrusted mini-vans and SUVs--and Alfred opened the door, and the boy slid in. They drove.
Alfred let the silence remain. It was a long drive, as the boy insisted he couldn't attend the local prep school because--and these are Richard's word's, I assure you-- "All the gay kids go there". This left a considerable amount of milage between his elemntary of choice and Wayne Manor, also leaving plenty of time for silence.
"Do you want me to tell you what I did?" asked Dick.
"If you'd like."
Dick, even though Alfred couldn't see it, was fidgeting. "I punched Tom Wilks in the face. He was bleeding."
Alfred, despite himself, snorted. "Was he? From the nose, I assume?"
Dick seemed startled, "Uh...yeah."
"And is there a reason you punched Tom Wilks in the nose?"
The boy paused, "...he's a jerk."
Alfred smirked, "That wouldn't hold up very well in court, now would it?"
Dick seemed puzzled.
"Our teacher gave us a piece of paper and said we had to draw our family tree."
By now, Alfred knew where this was going. Still, he listened.
"And the only other family I had was my mom's brother but he died a real long time ago. So I drew my mom and my dad's faces, but they didn't really look alot like them 'cause I can't really remember what they look like..." He stopped, waiting for Alfred to comment. He didn't, just kept on his driving and stared intently at the road even though his was only car on the spiraling road.
"...so then," Dick continued, "I started drawing a bunch of clowns and Monster, the lion that had a cage next to our old trailer, and I colored then all with red and blue and stuff, even though everyone else were using brown..." I leaned over in the seats, trying to make out Alfred's face. He kept it stoic.
Dick went on, "Then Cindy, this girl who sits next to me, she's all like, 'what type of tree is that?' and I told her it was the kind you find in the circus, because all the trees I ever saw had balloons and stuff in them," he paused. Alfred remained silent."
"Then she asked why I'd draw a tree from the circus, and I said it was 'cause that's where I used to live. Then Tom Wilks, he says that only freaks live in the circus, and I said that I wasn't a freak, then he said I was if I lived in the circus, and that only freaks go to the circus cause no one else wants them. I told him he was stupid, and he said my mom was stupid," he paused, "which was wierd 'cause I don't think he ever met my mom."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Alfred raised his eyebrow, "And then..."
If he had to, he would have sworn he saw Dick Grayson roll his eyes and slack in the leather seat, muttering, "...and then I punched him in the face..."
Things remained quite. "Is that all?" asked Alfred.
Dick bit his lip, "I'm not a freak, right Alfred?"
Alfred turned the wheel of the car, "No, not at all." Of course, this was being compared to a man who spent his nights dressed as a bat.
"I don't think my parents were freaks, right?"
Alfred thought, "I'm sure they were perfectly nice poeple, Master Richard."
"Seriously," said the 3rd grader, "they weren't freaks."
"I never said they were."
Another silence.
"Am I in trouble?"
Alfred smirked, just a bit, "We'll talk about it when we get home."
As he drove, he thought about the family tree with all the different colors on it, and thought about the boy punching one of these classmates and suddenly, Alfred was slightly less irritated.
NO POINT!