Dick Grayson, former circus acrobat, ex-boy wonder, and the masked man of mystery known as Nightwing, entered Wayne Manor cautiously. No one there, not even Alfred. No notes, no signs of struggle and abduction, just...Nothing.
He scouted the manor's first floor, ending up in front of the old grandfather clock. Twisting the dial to 10:47, he pulled the hidden door open, and stared down the dark passageway. Some kind of...Noises...were coming from down there. If it were any place but the Batcave, he might have thought they were the sounds of hysterical laughter, but no. The only thing that could make Bruce laugh was a good dose of the Joker's...
Oh God! The Joker! He's found out Bruce's secret identity, ambushed him in the cave, and now he's dying of laughing gas! And Alfred's in there with him! The conclusion sprang to mind immediately as the only logical one, and Dick sped down the narrow stairway as fast as he could. He had to save Bruce! And Alfred!
Down into the stygian gloom he went, following the laughter to its source, which seemed to be Batman's main control center, where the massive Bat-Computer was mounted on a huge sawed-off stalagmite. Flickering lights from the huge display screen played on the stalactites and rock curtains as Dick headed up to where the howls of merriment emerged. What he saw when he got there fairly took his breath away.
There was Alfred, smiling as he stood behind Batman's chair. And there was Batman, in his chair, howling with the kind of laughter that only demented men and demon-possessed clowns emitted. There was no Joker in sight, nor was there any other super-villain in evidence. Then, Dick registered what was on the screen, and it all became clear.
"There are those who call me...Tim." Thundered the towering, flame-hurling sorcerer on the giant screen. Batman burst into fresh gales of hilarity. When King Arthur started stammering out his plea for help, the Dark Knight fell, gasping, out of his chair. the line 'A GRAIL?!!??!' set him to rolling helplessly, clutching in vain at the armrest of his chair. Dick simply could not believe the evidence of his eyes.
"Alfred?"
The dignified old man turned. "Good day, Master Richard. What brings you here?"
"Well, I wanted to go over some case files with Bruce, but...What in God's name is going on here?" The Killer Bunny Rabbit slew three of the Knights of the Round Table, and Batman, having risen to a near-standing position, dropped to his hands and knees, then hit his forehead on the ground as he clutched at his sides.
"Ah, you mean Master Bruce. Well, I had recently purchased the recently released DVD editions of the Monty Python's Flying Circus television series, an old favorite of mine, and it came out that Master Bruce was entirely unfamiliar with them." The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch was hurled. Batman lay gasping and sobbing, ribs aching as he laughed some more.
"Well, Master Richard, I could not let this ignorance pass, so I showed him a few episodes. I may say, sir, that I have never, in all these years, seen Master Bruce laugh so much, not since he was a small boy. Well, he has now seen every episode, and has started on the films." Batman resumed his seat, only to be leveled again as the animator suffered a fatal heart attack, and the cartoon peril was no more.
"Wow, Alfred, that's...That's incredible."
"Indeed, sir."
"But, aren't you afraid he'll hurt himself?"
"In fact, I did try to raise that point with him, while he was mid-way through the second season."
"And?"
"Well sir, he took one of the samurai swords in the display case, and swore that if I tried to stop him, he'd kill me. I decided to let the matter rest."
"Good thinking Alfred."
"Indeed sir."
The guardian of the Bridge of Eternal Peril went flying into the abyss at that point, and the only sound audible were the sobs of mirth coming from the prostrate vigilante.
The End
He scouted the manor's first floor, ending up in front of the old grandfather clock. Twisting the dial to 10:47, he pulled the hidden door open, and stared down the dark passageway. Some kind of...Noises...were coming from down there. If it were any place but the Batcave, he might have thought they were the sounds of hysterical laughter, but no. The only thing that could make Bruce laugh was a good dose of the Joker's...
Oh God! The Joker! He's found out Bruce's secret identity, ambushed him in the cave, and now he's dying of laughing gas! And Alfred's in there with him! The conclusion sprang to mind immediately as the only logical one, and Dick sped down the narrow stairway as fast as he could. He had to save Bruce! And Alfred!
Down into the stygian gloom he went, following the laughter to its source, which seemed to be Batman's main control center, where the massive Bat-Computer was mounted on a huge sawed-off stalagmite. Flickering lights from the huge display screen played on the stalactites and rock curtains as Dick headed up to where the howls of merriment emerged. What he saw when he got there fairly took his breath away.
There was Alfred, smiling as he stood behind Batman's chair. And there was Batman, in his chair, howling with the kind of laughter that only demented men and demon-possessed clowns emitted. There was no Joker in sight, nor was there any other super-villain in evidence. Then, Dick registered what was on the screen, and it all became clear.
"There are those who call me...Tim." Thundered the towering, flame-hurling sorcerer on the giant screen. Batman burst into fresh gales of hilarity. When King Arthur started stammering out his plea for help, the Dark Knight fell, gasping, out of his chair. the line 'A GRAIL?!!??!' set him to rolling helplessly, clutching in vain at the armrest of his chair. Dick simply could not believe the evidence of his eyes.
"Alfred?"
The dignified old man turned. "Good day, Master Richard. What brings you here?"
"Well, I wanted to go over some case files with Bruce, but...What in God's name is going on here?" The Killer Bunny Rabbit slew three of the Knights of the Round Table, and Batman, having risen to a near-standing position, dropped to his hands and knees, then hit his forehead on the ground as he clutched at his sides.
"Ah, you mean Master Bruce. Well, I had recently purchased the recently released DVD editions of the Monty Python's Flying Circus television series, an old favorite of mine, and it came out that Master Bruce was entirely unfamiliar with them." The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch was hurled. Batman lay gasping and sobbing, ribs aching as he laughed some more.
"Well, Master Richard, I could not let this ignorance pass, so I showed him a few episodes. I may say, sir, that I have never, in all these years, seen Master Bruce laugh so much, not since he was a small boy. Well, he has now seen every episode, and has started on the films." Batman resumed his seat, only to be leveled again as the animator suffered a fatal heart attack, and the cartoon peril was no more.
"Wow, Alfred, that's...That's incredible."
"Indeed, sir."
"But, aren't you afraid he'll hurt himself?"
"In fact, I did try to raise that point with him, while he was mid-way through the second season."
"And?"
"Well sir, he took one of the samurai swords in the display case, and swore that if I tried to stop him, he'd kill me. I decided to let the matter rest."
"Good thinking Alfred."
"Indeed sir."
The guardian of the Bridge of Eternal Peril went flying into the abyss at that point, and the only sound audible were the sobs of mirth coming from the prostrate vigilante.
The End