Beware of the Farmyard!

Author's Note: No sooner than I finish writing one story, I start writing another one! This idea had been buzzing around in my head for quite some time, so I just had to write this down. After a drama, I wanted to return back to comedy. As you all know, none of the characters belong to me but to DC Comics and Warner Bros. If there are no other questions, then on with the show!

Any corny story would start off "it was a dark night…..". The fact that this was a dark night when it happened must not surprise you. Many strange things happen during the night only to find out what they truly are at daytime. It is usually the case when the things at night look terrible, and at day time are not so bad. In this case it was opposite: from night was neutral and at day it was worse.

You don't understand? Better start telling the story then.

One of the most feared criminals of Gotham was the Scarecrow. This is no pun: he was able to produce a specific Fear Gas that awoke one of the most disliked emotions in people and that was none other than obviously Fear.

He decided to for once rob a prestigious chemical factory which was not located in Gotham. Its headquarters were in one of the Southern states (I don't think telling you which one it was matters) and Scarecrow had decided to locate that specific one. He could have chosen any other, but this was the one he chose.

It went off better than expected: the robbery was completed and the Scarecrow was able to get away in his helicopter. His thugs who assisted him in the operation were not so lucky and were easily caught by the security. The Scarecrow had cackled with glee as his helicopter flew away into the moonlight darkness of the night.

However, he noticed that he was running out of fuel. He mentally cursed his stupid buffoons who hadn't filled the tank with the sufficient amount for him to get back to Gotham. He just had to rest somewhere for the night. But where? There was just an empty land below him.

Suddenly, he spotted down on earth an isolated farmhouse. Deciding that something was better than nothing, the Scarecrow controlled the helicpoter to get down.

As the helicopter settled down, it raised a lot of dust from the soil. Any farmer who lived here would have rushed out and demanded what was going on here. But nobody came. As the Scarecrow stepped out of the helicopter, he noticed someone was already there on the front porch of the house and was standing there calmly as if nothing happened.

Scarecrow could just make out the man, because the light from the inside the house silhouetted him: he was a tell man, dressed in the pilgrim farmer's suit and looked as if he was cut out straight from the colonial times. He was the traditional small town farmer, and Scarecrow wondered if they still existed.

'Good evening, stranger,' he said calmly in his southern accent.

Scarecrow was dumbfounded at seeing how this man coolly greeted him. He mumbled out a sheepish,' Good evening.'

'Well, well, what might ya be doin' at such a heavy night?' the farmer continued.

The Scarecrow straightened up and answered,' I doubt if you know who I am but I can inform you that if you do not give me shelter here you will deeply regret it.'

The only thing that the farmer said was,' You ain't from here, ain't ya?'

When the Scarecrow was about to make a threat, the farmer turned around and motioned for him to come in. Scarecrow went up after him and got inside. It was the typical traditional house made of logs and the old-fashioned furniture that you would only find in an antique shop.

'Hang on a sec, I know you. You're that stranger that the folks up north call "Scarecrow" right?' he eyes brightened.

Scarecrow took a good look at the farmer. His hair was pale and had glowing, almost preacher-like eyes and weather-beaten long face.

'Yes, I am he,' the Scarecrow said.

The farmer laughed,' Take off that sack. You look like a coon that has been skinned. Ya know that we ain't like those fancy folks up north.'

Scarecrow was suspicious by this request. However, he quickly calculated that the farmer was just a simple person who wouldn't know of harm, so he could just as well do it. If the farmer tried to do something, he would find himself gassed: the Scarecrow developed an immunity to it.

The Scarecrow took off his sackcloth in front of the farmer.

'Boy, ya sure are mighty skinny,' the farmer laughed again,' but I'll give you some nice food to fill ya up and then give our guest's bed to sleep. But first thing's first: what's your name, stranger?'

Scarecrow was surprised by the farmer's hospitality and answered this directly put question - after all, he was only a peasant,' Jonathan Crane. And you?'

The farmer nodded wisely,' Jonathan Crane. I like good ol' Biblical names- none of those fancy new ones. You can call me what everyone else called me in town: Farmer Brown.'

The name was familiar, but Crane couldn't remember what it was. He politely refused dinner and he was led by the host up to his room which was covered in cobwebs as if no one had been in there for a long time. There was a single bed on the side covered with a white sheet and a bedstead next to it. On the small table he noticed a large black leather book on which in gold letters was printed: "The Bible".

'Sorry 'bout this Mr. Crane,' apologized Farmer Brown, his voice not wavering,' it's just that the last time this room was used was when my uncle's dead body was put in here before the burial next day. Since then, nobody dared to come up here- says that his ghost haunts this place, but that's all jabber.'

Crane nodded, an uncomfortable feeling in his throat.

'Good night,' said Farmer Brown somberly before he closed the door behind him.

Crane took slow steps to the bed and the floorboards creaked beneath him. Dust particles rose in protest for this being used after such a long time. He got under the covers, and blew out the candle which was his only light. Since this was in the countryside and there are no city lights, it was pitch black and silent as the grave. Crane held out his hand right in front of him and he couldn't even see it. He turned over to the side and the last thing he heard before he went to sleep was the soft wheezy blowing of the wind outside.

ZzzzZZZZZzzzzz

The next morning he was awoken. The door slammed open and inside came in Farmer Brown.

'Get up, you can't 'spect to sleep for the entire day!' exclaimed he.

'What time is it?' asked Crane, wondering if it was midday already.

'It's seven o'clock!' said the farmer as if it was something horrifyingly late.

'In the morning?' asked Crane, making sure he heard correctly.

'Of course! We folks down here get up at five to milk the cows, not like your folks up north,' Farmer Brown said this as if it was a golden rule.

'Alright then,' said Crane, getting up.

'Now you come down here for a fine breakfast meal and then help me around the farm a bit.'

'Help you around the farm!' exclaimed Crane preposterously.

'Nothin' much,' shrugged Farmer Brown, 'just the same ol' easy stacking of hay. Plain simple for a partner like you.'

Before Crane could answer, the farmer left the room. Deciding that it was best not to argue, for he would need the food for his strength and he would finish off the farmer later, Crane came down for breakfast. On the table he found huge legs of something that looked suspiciously like overgrown chicken legs and a large bucket of milk he was supposed to drink from.

Finishing off his breakfast somehow, he went out of the house. What met his eyes first was a large farmyard with huge cows grazing the few blades of grass beneath, large chickens that pecked the soil furiously beneath them and a sizeable goat tied to a nearby post chewing on something. In the distance could be seen fields of wheat and corn.

'So, you're the Scarecrow, eh?' asked Farmer Brown's voice behind him, that almost made him jump,' I do guess that we have a theme in common. Tell me, what brand of corn you think best? Those puny northern ones or fine gold southern ones?'

'I do not specialize in agricultural products,' answered Crane curtly.

'Then why the heck you call yourself "Scarecrow" then?' asked the farmer absurdly.

'It is associated with my school days,' replied Crane.

'They kept a scarecrow in their playground?'

Crane gave up from trying to tell him. It was no use. Farmer Brown found something else to talk about, for it could be seen by his eyes that gave an unsettling glow.

'Come, it's high time you met my daughter,' Brown went forward to the barn.

Daughter? Crane didn't know that the farmer didn't live alone.

'Honey, would you come out here for a sec?' called Brown into the darkness of the barn.

Almost immediately out strode a strong-looking, healthy country girl. She had clever-looking blue eyes and long blonde hair was tied into a pony tail that fell down her back. She wore a provokingly stereotypical short white shirt and blue shorts. She had a smile that looked so much like a smirk on her face.

'This is Amy Lou, my daughter,' he introduced her,' Amy honey, this man is Mr. Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as that Scarecrow we hear a lot 'bout in the papers.'

'Howdy there!' she greeted.

'Hello.' He answered, wondering why on earth was he feeling embaressed.

'Amy here will show you how to take the eggs from those chickens,' Farmer Brown explained, 'they are a bit….. violent towards strangers.'

'I should be leaving,' Crane explained,' the police could be here and-'

'Whoa son! No police gets here,' Farmer Brown said firmly,' ever. 'Sides, you won't be leaving us like this are you?'

Somehow, Crane found himself unable to refuse Brown's requests. It was as if this farmer had a hypnotic hold over him.

The next few minutes later Crane found himself in the chicken coop and was carefully picking out the eggs while the chickens weren't present. Amy Lou was right beside him.

'Just be careful with these eggs,' she talked in her country accent,' don't want no accidents with these fine eggs here.'

'I'm perfectly in control, thank you,' he said briskly.

'You're a Yankee?' she asked curiously,' 'Cause you've got this mighty fine talk.'

He didn't know that southerners still used the word "Yankee". He thought it was rubbed out ever since the Civil War happened and joined the two sides together.

Crane dropped an egg accidentally because leaning onto a particular nest on the perch made him lose his balance. Remembering her information about not dropping the eggs, he automatically gave an apology. He rarely apologized, but since he was residing on someone who has given him food and shelter, an apology ought to be in order.

'Naw, that ain't nothin'. You mighty funny, Mister Crane,' she giggled.

'It's actually "Professor",' he corrected.

This interested her a lot. 'Really?' she asked in fascination, 'You use fancy northern language, Mr. Crane. You really a professor? Like teacher?'

'Well, something like that, only in a high position,' he said, feeling flattered. Not many people in Arkham gave a high view that he was a Professor.

He had to leave and help Brown with the re-arranging of hay. It turned out to be not hard work, but there was so much that it could make easily one tired. Crane noticed that Amy Lou had not kept her eyes off him all the time, expect when she had to go back inside to made lunch.

Lunch had come, and they had come back inside to eat. Amy Lou had prepared the table and made a special meal: radish soup. Before eating, Farmer Brown said a prayer in "grace of the good Lord". After all this, Jonathan Crane was feeling just like his favorite character Icabod Crane from the story "Legend of the Sleepy Hollow" back in the 18th century.

After saying grace, Crane took a good look at his soup. Huge chunks of genetically modified radish floated about in his greenish-colored water. It tasted good, yet this mutation did not feel right.

'We don't talk during our meal, but I'll make an exception today because we have a guest,' said Brown,' what was your job?'

'He's a Professor, pap, you know, like those who teach in fancy schools?' Amy Lou informed eagerly.

'I was a leading Professor of Subliminal Psychology at Gotham University. I specialised in the study of fear and how it affects individuals,' Crane said.

'From such a long name I can tell that it is a mighty hard and important job,' Brown said nobly,' so, what foolish thing you done to lose it?'

Crane felt as if they were asking too many questions, but he patiently answered,' I did some extreme experiments on my student volunteers.'

'Uh-huh.'

'It was difficult to become a professor,' Crane went on,' after I received my doctorate-'

'You ain't just any old teacher! Pap, he's a doctor!' Amy squealed excitedly.

'Not really a doctor in the sense-'

'I knew he just wasn't any old country boy!' Amy went on happily.

'Country boy? My girl, I grew up in a city…..' Crane felt insulted.

'But ya just have some country blood in you!' Amy accused,' Pap, don't he look like that ol' Billy?'

'He sure does.' Observed Brown.

'But Billy ain't that smart like him, ain't he?' Amy Lou asked.

'He sure ain't.' Brown's eyes glowed more eerily by the minute as if he had noticed something interesting in Crane.

Crane couldn't stand it anymore. He had been questioned and worked on a farm run by a strange farmer and his country daughter and he should be going.

'Excuse me,' he said and went out.

Outside he checked the helicopter. It was no use: the fuel had completely run out and the only way he was probably going to get to Gotham was if he came to a nearby town and waited for the bus to take him there. He would just have to demand Farmer Brown to take him there, no matter what way. At this perfect timing, Farmer Brown went out.

'Take me to the nearest town there is around here,' Crane demanded.

Brown stared hard into the distance as if he was thinking deeply. As if he came to a decision, he clicked hie tongue and shook his head,' Can't do that doc. My cart broke down a month ago and I don't own none of that new-made modern stuff such as cars.'

'Then how do you get your supplies?' questioned Crane.

'Make 'em meself.' The farmer answered.

'The chemicals for blowing up your animals?' asked Crane suspiciously, 'For that you will need to have access to a town with a chemist shop.'

'How do you know I use chemicals on ma creatures?' it was Brown's turn to be suspicious.

'Even a fool will be able to notice that,' Crane said coolly,' besides, I use chemicals myself. I do know that agricultural products are being "pumped up" with chemicals that if the public knew what they are won't dare touch it.'

'You know how to heal my cornstalks?' Brown asked.

'As I said, I do not specialize in agriculture. You'd better ask one of my inmates in Arkham, Poison Ivy. She practically thrives on plant ecology,' Crane said.

Farmer shook his hand in disgust,' Don't want no gal inspectin' my cornstalks. It's a man's job, and no lady from up north will put her nose where it don't belong.'

Crane tried to come back to the point,' How do you expect me to get to a town when there is no transport?'

'I didn't 'spect for you to leave us, but since ya really want to……' Brown was making up another difficult decision,' can you ride a horse, partner?'

Crane couldn't help but wince at this heavy southern accent that reminded anyone of the Wild West which was thankfully long gone. When he replied that he could try, Brown smiled and said that they could do it in the morning.

Crane couldn't remember if he had ever been this docile with a "hostage".

Night had come and Crane pardoned himself from Brown and his daughter for he was going to sleep. Only Farmer Brown and Amy Lou sat outside on the porch and watched the night sky covered in hundreds of twinkling stars.

'They sure do sparkle nice up there, don't they pap?' Amy breathed.

'Sure do.' Said Brown.

'Don't ya think that Mr. Crane wasn't here by accident?' Amy asked eagerly.

'I think that the mighty hand of the Good Lord sent 'im down here,' Brown turned his eyes towards the heavens,' and I think we mighty need him too. He knows stuff 'bout those chemicals and sure knows tips on making our cattle grow bigger.'

'He ain't that bad-looking either,' Amy commented shyly,' OK, he has some strange face and he's real skinny, but we'll soon fill 'im up with some of our fine food. But he real smart, pap. He ain't like these country boys from down here but has mighty learnin' from up north. We need 'im pap.'

'Ya like 'im don't ya?' teased Brown,' Ya know darn too well he too old enough for you.'

'Yeah, but imagine having kids down 'ere. We'll name one after you, we'll have an entire family business and ya know that you won't live forever. I'm also getting old, and I need to have kids 'fore I leave this world too,' Amy dreamed on.

'Well, can't go 'gainst me daughter's feelin's so I'll let ya go ahead an' get your man,' Brown gave in,' 'cause he's a man we need that's reponsible runnin' this farm.'

'Thanks pap!' Amy Lou hugged him gleefully.

The night went on and morning came. Crane was once against awoken and he reluctantly left the bed. However, this was a good morning for this was the last day he was going to spend here. Tonight, he will be at Gotham!

He was ritually collecting eggs in the chicken coop when Amy Lou had made her move.

She stood up to him and boldly spoke,' Mr. Crane, ya ever think of settlin' down?'

Crane shuddered and answered, 'No.'

'Ya know Mister Crane, I don' think ya all handsome and nice but I like that you're real smart.' Amy Lou grabbed his hand in an unnaturally tight grip for her,' Ya could come with me and make a family. I'm already becoming old.'

He was too shocked to speak but then he got a grip on himself and said,' Miss Amy Lou-'

'Ya's already callin' me "Miss" !' she cried excitedly.

'You are really too young for me. How old are you?'

'Twenty three.' She said promptly.

'There. And you say that you are too old,' he scoffed.

She looked up at him with her blue eyes and said,' I'm a virgin.'

'That's….. flattering,' Crane choked out, for he was rarely faced with a girl offering herself so freely, especially one that wore such provocative clothes.

She gave a charming smile and said, 'Let's have some fun then, eh? But don't tell pap: he'll be hollerin' about this to everyone.'

Wondering who else lives around here except these two, Crane tried to pull away from her,' You are not for me.'

'Whaddya mean?' she asked naively.

'Not only that you are too young for me, but you do not have the same…..'Crane struggled for the right words,'education.'

'Ya mean that ya don't like 'cause ya think I'm stupid?' she snarled, becoming something slightly more than offended,' ya think that some gal up north is smarter than me 'cause she went to some fancy big school and talks better than meself?'

'I cannot settle down!' yelled Crane, finally reaching the end of his limits,' I am the Scarecrow! I am the Master of Fear! I cannot have children like this! I studied and taught in a University! I will not live with a country girl and raise an entire farm of genetically modified poultry!'

Amy Lou was silent. It looked as if something horrible was going to burst out from her mouth: curses, scolding, words of hate and anger…… he wished that would have happened. Instead, she calmed down, forced a big, simple smile and gave him a bone-crushing hug making him gasp for breath.

'You ain't goin' nowhere!' she whispered huskily,' No one gets my man!'

He forced himself out of her grasp and ran outside. He was immediately met by Farmer Brown who had his arms behind his back. He was observing the entire situation calmly.

'Mr. Brown!' Crane huffed,' Tell your inexperienced daughter not to throw herself at strangers who are much older than she!'

'Don't talk like that about my gal. She done knows well what she wants and she darn gonna get it,' Brown said coldly,' don' tell me that after ya finished ruttin' with her that you gonna get away with it.'

'I didn't do anything with her!' Crane raised his voice to a higher hysterical pitch, which made Brown smile. Brown retreived his hands in front of him and Crane saw what he was holding behind his back: an antique hunting rifle.

'Didn't wanna come to this,' he cocked his rifle,' but something's gotta give.'

Sensing danger, Crane held out his hand in front of him. Thankfully he always wore his scarecrow costume and he would easily sent a jet spray of his fear gas,' Try to handle this!' he cried triumphantly, only to his dismay to see that nothing came out. He checked his sleeve to see what was wrong, when Amy came out.

'I fixed it while you were asleep,' she said lightly,' our food really knocks ya out, ya knew that Mr. Crane?'

There was barely a way out. On one hand was desperate Amy Lou who wanted to keep him, and on the other was Farmer Brown with his threatening rifle.

'Go get 'im honey.' Said Brown.

It was then Crane immediately made a choice. He rushed towards the stables.

'Stop, you critter!' Farmer Brow roared behind him, and not far away from him a bullet whizzed by.

He didn't stop. He ran inside and to his amazing luck saw that Brown was riding one of the horses today, so it was fully saddled and bridled. Crane had a bit of experience with horses himself, so quickly clambered on it. He gave a swift kick, and the horse neighed wildly and rushed out of the stable. It charged past Farmer Brown and his daughter and the rider went off into the horizon.

'We gotta get 'im pap!' Amy cried.

'Not before you milk our cows Bluebell and Daisy,' growled Farmer Brown.

'But I did that this mornin' !' she grumbled.

'Fine then. Go and saddle up Alabama and Three-Toe.' Brown ordered.

Before long, the duo were perched on their trusty steeds, and with a 'Giddy up there!' from Farmer Brown they galloped off and were gaining distance that Crane had passed.

Crane had arrived at a town and he noticed where there was a bus station and a ticket booth. He got off the horse and ran towards the booth. He got a ticket for Gotham (which was luckily arriving any minute then) and all he had to do was wait.

The bus arrived, and before Crane could step on it, a familiar 'Yahoo!' was heard from the distance. To his shock he saw Farmer Brown with the lead of Amy Lou charging up to the bus station. She was swinging a giant lasso over her head.

Crane quickly got inside and the lasso missed him. The bus went of in the nick of time as Amy Lou and her father ran beside it. It soon gained speed and went off into distance, leaving the flustered farmer and his run-down daughter behind.

The bus traveled for a long time. Its conditions were poor: the seats were disheveled and people from the surrounding villages were carrying different farm animals in their laps. None of this mattered to Jonathan Crane because he rejoiced from being away from the farmer.

It was well into the night when the bus arrived in Gotham. Jonathan Crane checked his watch for he had a meeting today with the rest of the Rogues in Penguin's Iceberg Lounge and he was well over half an hour late.

He got off the bus and stared off into the distance. Gotham! Home to criminals and glowing night lights and not to some farm animals. He was glad to be back. However, he noticed a certain shadow behind the corner of a building that was the only thing that made him afraid. He knew who it was: Batman! Batman must have heard of the robbing of the chemical factory and was going to capture Crane.

Hoping that he wasn't spotted yet, Crane called for a taxi. One stopped and picked him up. Crane stared into the cab driver's mirror during the ride. The shadow that swung from one building to another told him that they haven't lost him yet. However, Crane was oddly not in the mood for a chase.

At arriving at his destination, Crane rushed out of the taxi and ran into the Iceberg Lounge. He ran through the restaurant and downstairs where the meetings were held. He barged into the room where all the rogues were holding the meeting and he cut in mid of Penguin's speech.

'Scarecrow! Where were you? We gave up that you were going to come!' Penguin exclaimed.

'I was chased by Farmer Brown and his daughter,' Scarecrow panted.

'So? What's wrong with that?' asked Riddler, rolling his eyes.

'And why do you smell of horses?' sniffed Poison Ivy.

'I almost forgot: Batman is on my tail so you'd better finish this off now,' Crane added as if this wasn't such an important thing now. Not as important as getting off that farm…..

'Idiot! Why didn't you tell us that first?' growled angrily Two-Face, cocking his gun, 'Instead you blab about some nutcase farmer, while we all can be brought back to Arkham now!'

The windows crashed and it was too late. Batman barged in with his sidekick Robin and they beat up half of the rogues that sat there. After a fight, when there was no other chance to give up, Batman offered them to surrender.

'Wait a minute,' Two-Face said, and he flipped his coin. When it landed, he took a good look at it and nodded,' Right.' Then, without warning, he jumped on Crane, 'I'm going to kill you, you imbecilic sack of straw!'

By the end of the night, everyone was put back in Arkham, either with minor injuries or heavy ones.

THE END

Author's Note: That's it folks! I bet Farmer Brown and his daughter were a bit too OC, but I really wanted to put strain on their country accents here. Hope it was OK, and I would really appreciate a nice review if you can give me one………