The strangest story ever told. Soccer mom style.
Yes, I am not dead. Yes, I am an ass. Yes, most of the Second speedster sucks, and Starling of Gotham needs work. But I will say this. FML. And school, sorry mom for the language, but fuck pretty much everything. :) So I was exploring the deep web, then decided to shake myself loose via Urban Dict. Yeah. I clicked the random word button, and SOCCER MOMS was the topic! I went through eight pages trying to pick what I liked. And lo and behold, This piece of glorious bullshit was born.
Disclaimer: I don't fucking own Batman or visiting characters. If I did.. Some bullshitty sentence about something being different.. Sorry for mistakes, I'm currently Betaless.. But..
enjoy! :3
Jason tactfully walked out from behind a red curtain, eyeing the audience with an smirk.
"Welcome to the show." He snickered, pressing a button on a small remote as he picked up a microphone and stepped off to the side.
The curtains rose with a flourish. The show had begun.
"Soccer Moms." Jason's voice echoed through the speakers as Dick appeared behind a cardboard cutout of a car about to his hip level. Dick was sitting awkwardly in a rusty metal child's wagon, which creaked along under the weight of the 200 pound acrobat.
The fat suit and leggings he wore, not to mention the sports bra and wig, made the young man look strikingly accurate.
Dick exaggerated his movements, sipping loudly on a Starbucks and yapping into a cell phone.
"Any Parent, generally female, who seeks to impose their ethical and moral standards upon the rest of the world, justifying the suppression of all other views by claiming it is for the protection of their children." Jason read off of a paper Tim had printed.
Tim popped up from behind Dick, having been crouched behind him in the wagon, pushing it along with a rubber baton. He adjusted his boobs and blew kisses with one hand out of the second 'car window,' mentally cursing himself.
"Soccer moms believe that they are all great parents, despite their inability or unwillingness to take responsibility for their children."
The 'Car' with its two lovely passengers squeaked up to the next prop halfway across the stage. A mini crosswalk had been constructed, along with a pole and traffic lights.
Damian growled inwardly and ducked out from behind the curtain, slouching his shoulders as he walked (sulked) down the fake sidewalk, dressed like an Emo teenager.
The makeup was aggravating him. The fact that Drake put it on him did not help. He blew the wig hair out of his eyes and looked both ways before beginning to cross the 'street,' upon affirming that the little man was green.
"That bitch in the SUV who almost ran you over this morning because you had the nerve to try to cross her street at a crosswalk-"
Damian let out a screech as the wagon picked up speed, (Thanks to Tim's feverish muttering and straining arms) and came barreling towards him.
"When the little "walk" man was CLEARLY green, despite the fact that she had over one hundred feet to slow her fat ass down before crowding you out of the lane, which she wanted to use to make a right turn without signaling." Jason sputtered away from the microphone, his face red with silent laughter.
The emo punk dove out of the way as Dick quickly yanked the second side of the 'Car' up, and Tim slammed the baton in front of the back wheel, forcing the squealing wagon to turn right and make a U turn.
"Don't worry, she didn't see you: she was on her cell phone talking to some other soccer mom slut, and is therefore incapable of perceiving, acknowledging or responding to any outside influence or displaying any semblance of situational awareness that might prevent her from running you over."
Dick proceeded to throw his Starbucks out of the nonexistent sunroof, (There was no roof) and scream into his Iphone, "OH MY GAWD CINDY, THIS FROZEN LATTE IS ALL WRONG. THE PUMPKIN SPICE NEEDS TO BE YEAR ROUND."
"In fact, even though the law guarantees you the right of way as a pedestrian, you should always yield to the soccer mom or in general the dodge driver or SUV driver, so her fat kid can in fact get to soccer practice five seconds sooner: she needs the exercise." Jason rolled onto the floor backstage. Who came up with this shit? This was awesome!
Tim's smaller fat suit jiggled as he pumped the car off the stage to prepare for the next scene.
The curtains closed. "ACT ONE IS OVER. MILL ABOUT!"
Dick jumped off the wagon, stretching. "Ugh, Timmy, remind me never to be a Soccer mom again. And who wrote those cards for Jay? I remember them being cleaner.." He readjusted his wig and slurped down some water, before ending the phone call to Bruce on his phone.
The poor man was probably traumatized, not knowing what and why his son was screaming about Starbucks.
Tim rolled his eyes, passing some props for the next scene to him. "It was Damian. The kid was loving it."
Dick grinned. "Awww, they were bonding!" The 26 and 1/4 year old prepped his hair with a grin. "Nice to know their not killing each other."
They took their places. The curtain went up.
"A usually white, lower middle-classed woman." Jason began, as Dick waddled through the aisles of the 'supermarket' they had thrown together. Tim followed short, carrying a basket and wearing a dress that constricted his oxygen.
" She drives an SUV. Her kids are her "little angels" and are more important than anything or anyone else in the world and deserve to play game demos or do anything else more than everyone."
Damian waddled out onto the stage, dressed as a boy, wearing a fatsuit, nikes, and skinny jeans that bulged dangerously. He and Tim glared at each other, letting their arms sissy fight while they mentally plotted ways to render someone unconscious so the show could end.
"She doesn't let her "little angels" watch TV with "naughty words" such as crap, pussywillow, and pants."
'Mama Dicks' eyes popped dramatically as Damian uttered a slew of curses. "Mothertrucking Cat poop eating dummyhead!"
She turned on her little angels (shits) and started screaming at them while Jason went on.
"Her kids aren't allowed to go on the internet because it's all about sex, raping little children, buying useless crap, and getting scammed. She strictly enforces the ESRB ratings systems; by that I mean makes up her own: EC = 10 and under, E = 11 and up, T and above = "Not in my house."
Tim held up a Movie and presented it to Mama Dick, who shook her head while holding out a chubby manicured finger as though to say 'No' as she yapped to her friends.
Tim wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. He swallowed his pride, (Thanked his lucky stars for voice modifiers) and threw the movie in the ground angrily, stomping about in his Mary Jane shoes and screaming.
"I WANTED ITTTTT! IT JUST CAME OOOOHHUUUTTTTT!" He wailed, flopping on his back and kicking his legs.
Mama Dick sweetly hit the off button on her phone, before bending to Tim's level, which left her looking like she was squatting to take a shit.
"NO! ITS EVIL!" Damian, who was behind Dick (poor lad) and picked up the movie to studied the Title.
'Carebears go to Israel.' He awkwardly threw the movie behind him.
"Movies: PG and under = Only movies you can see). Anything that doesn't say they're Christian is automatically Satanic; this includes 99.998% of music." Jason snickered.
Mama Dick stood and turned around, yapping into her phone once more. She held up a CD case, her fake teeth shining. "Look! Kids Bob #347!"
"Her children participate in as many after-school activities as possible and are usually at day camp during the summer."
The trio sashayed, trudged and was dragged over to the counter, where poor Stephanie had been enlisted as role of cashier. (Guess who did which) hehheh..
"Soccer moms are usually seen screaming at people, getting into car accidents, and breaking copies of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City and refusing to pay for them."
Mama Dick threw her purchases on the counter, along with her cardboard credit card and other random items in her purse.
Steph stared straight ahead and began to 'scan items,' trying note to laugh.
Mama Dick picked up a game and dropped it with disgust, stomping on it with her 7" stilettos.
Grand Theft Auto lay on the ground, its components shattered.
Mama Dick girded her loins (and fat rolls) up for battle, tossing her Sports water bottle (covered in lipstick) and stack of receipts over at her angelic brats.
"HOW DARE YOU SELL THIS IN A VIDEO GAME STORE! WHERES THE MANAGER!"
"Soccer moms are responsible for almost every act of censorship, and almost every frivolous safety "feature" or warning label seen on products today."
Stephanie screamed back, "I AM THE MANAGER, BITCH. AND I HEAR ENOUGH WHINING FROM OTHER WITCHES LIKE YOU, SO PAY FOR YOUR SHIT OR GET OUT."
Stephanie was wearing a push-up bra, and a very low cut shirt. Tim stopped wailing and stood up, trying his best to look girlishly cute. Damian's eyes bulged as they were fixed to her chest. Damn. And she had a mouth too.
"Movies and games that contain strong language, graphic violence, strong language, or references to the occult are banned on behalf of soccer moms-"
Mama Dick covered her children's ears. "HOW DARE YOU TALK LIKE THAT AROUND MY BABIES!" She screeched.
"Because they cannot be bothered to pay attention to what their children are watching or playing."
Mama Dick flipped Stephanie off and hoisted Damian over her shoulder and Tim under her arm, stomping out of the store angrily. The curtain closed for several moments, before opening and revealing their car in a parking lot.
"They are the reason that the rear windows of certain vehicles, the Ford Taurus for example, can only be rolled down approximately 12 inches (or .3 meters), and there is no option to allow you to disable this safety feature.'"
Mama Dick squeezed herself into the car, as Tim backed it out with his rubber baton while contemplating if it would be wrong to hit his 'Little brother' on the head with it, as Damian sat uncomfortably in his lap.
The fatsuits. Ohh god.
"They are the reason that bags of peanuts say "Warning: May contain nuts." That's intelligent."
Mama Dick's car roared out of the parking out and off the stage. The curtain went down.
"Act 2 has ended! If you're offended It's your fault!"
Backstage...
Tim shoved the twelve year old off of him, trying not to think of how light the child weighed, even with the fatsuit.
Mama Dick snickered as he watched Jason clamber into a fatsuit and shoved leggings and a tight shirt on. Makeup and a wig later, Mama JJ was ready.
"Aww, you look so cute with your rolls. Now wheres Roy?" Dick grinned, turning.
Roy and Wally faced him, both glowering in fatsuits and leggings.
"Is this necessary?" Wally choked out, poking at his rubbery arms.
"Yes. Tim and Dami can't be Soccer moms, their busy being my kids!"
Damian shot him a death glare. "Tt. I would rather wear a second fatsuit than have to sit in Drakes lap again." He spat the last words with venom.
Tim glowered at him. "I am not putting on more makeup. This is constricting enough." The teen crossed his arms, which was rather difficult considering he had balloons, a bra and body-tight shirt.
Jason scowled at the youngest. A little revenge couldn't hurt..
"I'll take demon-brat. C'mon, Honey, time to change your wig." He grabbed the boys arm and dragged him to the dressing table, with the latter struggling and kicking the whole way.
"ReLEASE ME, todd. I am not anyone's CHILD." Damian sputtered as he struggled to escape the vise-like chubby arms of his 'older brother.'
Jason yanked a blonde wig on the boy and shoved a teddy bear and mini Starbucks into his hand, with a Bluetooth in his ear.
The four Soccer moms prepared to go onstage, with Jason carrying a struggling Damian.
The curtain went up. Act three had begun.
"They name their children via cheap baby books, or just drop them down the stairs to see what noise they make." Tim snickered inwardly, taking place as the narrator.
Mama Dick sashayed over to a metal café table, with an umbrella put up. Mama JJ, Cindy (Wally) and Klop (Roy) were already there.
Damian was sitting on Mama JJ's lap, miming talking into his Bluetooth and playing games on Mama JJ's phone. Someone kill me now..
Cindy slurped her frozen latte with vigor, talking vividly with Klop. "Klop, yesterday I saw a Mexican cutting Crissies lawn. Like, we need to do something about this."
"The soccer moms of River Place subdivision gathered at Starbucks to discuss the growing problem of suspicious-looking Hispanic lawn crews prowling up and down their streets."
Klop adjusted his boobs and tapped his fake nails on the metal tabletop. "I know, What if we talk to the HOA? This issue needs to be addressed!"
Cindy nodded vigorously, applying several sloppy coats of lipstick. "Good idea! Maybe we can make a rule requiring all Hispanics who come to our neighborhood be required to pass a background check."
Everyone cheered and toasted Cindy with their Lattes.
"The main identifications of Soccer Mom's are a huge coffee, those stupid short jackets that are meant for chicks in their 20's, an attitude of entitlement and bitchness, and an SUV that rivals the fuel consumption and handling of a tank."
Mama Dick started screeching at the Waiter. (Stephanie wearing a wig and outfit)
"YOU FORGOT TO ADD MOCHA TO MY HALF-CAF, SPLENDA, MOCHA PEPPERMINT LATTE! AND YOU FORGOT TO SMILE! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE AND I WANT A REFUND AND DID YOU KNOW MY KIDS ARE HONOR STUDENTS AT CHRISTIAN CUDDLES MIDD-"
Mama JJ cut her off, sweetly dropping Damian on the ground. "I know what I'd like to order. Listen, listen, this is what I want. I want a tall, skinny, sugar-free, decaf, soy vanilla Latte, extra hot, whipped cream, double sleeve, no cup."
The waitress looked shocked. Mama JJ merely turned to her sulking 'daughter' on the ground. "And what would you like, Sugah Bear?"
All Damian wanted was to throw Todd into a fire. And laugh. And nachos. But he was 'Sugah Bear,' and his reward for putting up with this garbage was significantly better than throwing Todd into a fire, unfortunately.
He was definitely grateful for voice modifiers. "I wanna... WATER AND A DONUT." He snapped 'Donut' as 'douughnurt."
Mama JJ slapped the back of her head, causing his (her) face to collide with her fat rolls.
Klop choked on his Starbucks as the demon righted itself and glowered at her 'mommy.'
"And for you?" Steph asked 'Cindy. Cindy eyed her cleavage as she was bent over toward him.
Her Bat-glare screamed back, 'You are fucking married. Do you think Artemis would appreciate knowing this?'
He (she) gulped (understanding perfectly) and coughed. "I would like.. A venti, half-whole milk, one quarter 1%, one quarter non-fat, extra hot, split quad shots, 1 1/2 shots decaf, 2 1/2 shots regular, no foam latte, with whip, 2 packets of splenda, 1 sugar in the raw, a touch of vanilla syrup and 3 short sprinkles of cinnamon."
Sugah Bear choked on his douuuughnurt. Mama JJ slapped him roughly on the back, hoisting the 'girl' back on his lap.
Steph had given up on taking the orders and threw her pad and pencil on the ground, then stomped off whilst flipping a very rude hand gesture.
"I QUIT, these damn TROPHY WIVES ARE KILLING ME. BOSS!" She screamed out, stomping offstage.
The four Soccer moms made faces of horror. Mama JJ, in a moment of God-given inspiration, shoved Sugah Bears water down 'her' back. The demonic soaking child turned and dug his three inch fake nails into Mama JJ'S face, knocking them both over, and popping one of Mama JJ's balloon boobs, eliciting a scream from Cindy.
Everyone spoke (Squawked) at once.
"What the HELL, Dick!"
"I am going to MURDER YOU, TODD."
"Now now, demon, Mama says your grounded!"
"FUCK YOU!"
Cindy stamped her feet like a child. "I didn't get what I wanted!" Klop rolled his(her) eyes and threw a cup of water at her.
Wally (Cindy)s eyes burned. Literally. "WHY DIDNT WE USE WATERPROOF BLACK GOOP!"
Klop shoved Cindy. Cindy blindly lashed out, knocking Klop into Mama Dick. Mama Dick fell back in her massive fatsuit and tried to regain her balance by grabbing the table.
The table toppled on top of Mama Dick, narrowly missing Mama JJ's head as Sugah bear shoved bits of donut into his ears.
Tim ran onstage, his previous costume gone. "What the hell, guys!"
Klop's head was stuck in-between the bars underneath the table, and he struggled fruitlessly, throwing whatever he could reach at Mama Dick.
"This is all YOUR fault, Asshole! Why'd I let you guys drag me into this!?"
Sugah bear was flung across the room, crashing into Tim. Jason staggered to his feet, spitting out a tooth and blinking away glaze.
"Get off of me.." Tim muttered, shoving the damp Sugah bear off of him.
The Batcave stairway door crashed open.
Bruce stared at his children, and others.
"What the.."
And that's how it would up in video. The end.
Yeah.. It Takes too fucking long to get it in bold at the bottom for me, That and fanfiction Doc Manager is an Asshole to trying to do this on an iPad (iPaid too much) Soo this might be continued, GO TRUMP and hail america or whatever.
Much love and Cookies..
Cookiepiano (::)(::)