Holy Spandex, Batman!
By Idhrenniel
Chapter 1
Has it ever occurred to anyone that those superhero cartoons are seriously unrealistic? Well, other than the fact that they're fictional, of course. But honestly. No one looks that impeccably dressed in real life. Not Batman, or Superman, or anyone.
And no, I'm not talking about normal suits that these people might wear while they're in alter-ego mode. I'm talking about their super-suits—of the erm… spandex variety. Sorry, folks. But modern men do not run around busy cities dressed in spandex jumpsuits, let alone use them while they're going bungee jumping, or car chasing, or having a flying spree or whatever.
Cartoons make it look easy. Whatever our dear heroic heroes are doing, their outfits always cling perfectly to their super-abs as if they're posing for a perpetual photo shoot. If real people wear spandex, it always clings in the wrong places, or looks like pajamas, or doesn't fit. And most importantly, it never fails to make real people look unbearably stupid.
That's why I'd rather dress up as the Joker. Yeah, so he's got the most insane makeup job known to mankind, but do you realize how fun it is to wear it while making funny faces in the mirror? It's pretty priceless. And if you'll take the time to notice that the Joker's outfit is entirely spandex-less…
But that's not the only thing here. My friend Ellie and I found out that in honor of the now Batman movie, (which by the way is quite spandex-less in its own right,) the store Hot Topic's giving a ten percent discount to anyone who shows up dressed as the Joker. And since we love Hot Topic just as much as we love adventure movies, Ellie's sportingly agreed to help me come up with a seriously kick-ass costume.
The only problem is that she'll probably be spending a ton more than what we'll actually end up saving on our purchase.
"God, Dauntra, will you hold still for one freakin minute?" Ellie's hovering over me as I sit in our newly proclaimed 'makeup chair,' balancing a rather large tray of white powder in one hand and a brush in the other. "Here."
I flinch as… well… whatever she was using… collides with my face and invades my lungs, and I give a loud cough. "Are you done yet?"
Ellie brandishes an intimidating stick of eyeliner. "Not so fast, buddy, you still have a whole layer to go. Now look up."
I won't go into too much detail about this particular makeup process, but I will have you know that my friend has been performing classical ballet for most of her life. So not only can she kick herself in the head with relative ease, but when it comes to stage makeup like this, she's seriously hard core. Putting it mildly.
So about an hour, and twenty pounds worth of eye shadow, eyeliner, lipstick, prosthetics, and powder later, I'm getting green hair dye squirted all over my head before being forced into the trademark outfit.
Ellie's obviously pleased with her handiwork. "Now remember how they mentioned in the movie that the Joker's clothing was all custom-made? Well I analyzed all the promo pictures and the trailer and sewed every little thing by hand just for the sake of authenticity."
I give her a sidelong glance. "Should I be worried?"
She smiles sheepishly. "I don't think so…"
"Whatever." I trot over to the floor length mirror to stare at my new image. Ellie's done such a good job that I'm afraid I'll wet myself if I even try to make a scary face right now. Creepy. But there's just one thing…
"You're too short," Ellie says, sauntering over to stand behind me. "You sure you don't want some stilts or something?"
I give her my best death glare, which is much easier to do in my current getup. "Excuse me? I'm twenty!"
"A very immature twenty. And no offense, but the real Joker is a lot taller than five foot one."
"You mean the actor."
She gives a short laugh. "Right. But still—"
"Are you certain that I shouldn't be worried about you?"
"Okay, okay." Ellie begins digging through her closet. "Never mind."
I sink back into the chair. "Um… Ellie? What are you doing, exactly?"
My friend glances over her shoulder. "Well I'm not letting you have all the fun. I'm coming in costume too."
"You can't possibly have had enough time to make two Joker suits."
"Who said I was dressing like him? That's your job, Dauntra. I'm doing my own thing."
It turns out that Ellie's 'own thing' consists of a dark jumpsuit, overcoat, and boots with streaks of her hair bleached dead white. "If anyone asks," she whispers as the two of us climb into her rusty purple VW Beetle, "I'm Rogue from X-Men."
"You know that's not going to get you the discount, right?"
"Dauntra, the looks on those poor shoppers' faces when they clap eyes on us is priceless enough for me." Ellie starts the engine, and we speed out of the driveway at about sixty miles an hour. "Come on, clown prince of crime. Let's see how many Dark Knight T-shirts we can afford with that discount."