Warning: Rude language
The Tee-shirts used here as a plot device are real ones my brother, unfortunately, found in a tourist shop on 8th Avenue in New York City while visiting me a few months ago. He purchased them for his twenty-something sons, finding one just as rude for my own son.
Brothers…
In Questionable Taste
It started a few weeks before with Dick's seventeenth birthday. The Titans had given him a small party at the Tower with the expected pizza, some contraband six packs of beer and broken curfews—all harmless in themselves. It was when Alfred went down into the cave to pick up the rank workout clothing, heading them towards the laundry, that the problem began…
"Master Bruce, may I ask if you have any information regarding this item?" Alfred was holding the offending garment, a rather limp and well used black tee-shirt with white lettering on the front.
The Master didn't bother to look up from the computer monitor. "It looks and smells like one of Dick's tee-shirts."
"Yes, obviously. The question at hand is where he might have gotten such a thing, and furthermore, why. I don't suppose you might have any information on that matter?"
Not quite sighing with annoyance at being disturbed, Bruce turned his head enough to actually look at the offending pile of fabric. Taking it from Alfred's gloved hands, he held it up enough to read the offending message. Even Bruce was slightly taken aback; there; writ large and bold was the enduring legend "Fuck the Fucking Fuckers".
As Alfred would say, 'Indeed'. "Well, it does have nice alliteration." No answer other than a raised eyebrow. "I'll speak to him about it."
"At least."
"Explanation?" Bruce indicated the tee, now draped over a chair near the main computer console in the cave.
The young man had just come downstairs, still wearing his leather jacket and carrying his helmet. He gave the offending object a cursory glance and turned to remove the jacket, tossing it over the shirt. "It was a birthday present from Roy."
Of course it was.
"I assume you have the sense to not wear that outside of this house."
"Sure, whatever. What's on for tonight?"
Bruce was satisfied with the answer, his attention back on the computer monitor as he filled Robin in on the evening's agenda. "You have time to finish your homework; go on upstairs and I'll call you when I'm ready."
An hour later Dick followed as Alfred came down to the cave, another black tee shirt in hand. Wordlessly, he held it out so the white lettering could be read:
Fuck Broadway Fuck traffic Fuck tourists Fuck landlords Fuck taxis Fuck Trucks Fuck schools Fuck pedestrians Fuck planes Fuck taxes fuck coffee Fuck crosswalks Fuck Port Authority Fuck computers Fuck buildings Fuck sewers Fuck LIRR Fuck New Jersey Fuck newspapers Fuck dogs Fuck airports Fuck grocery stores Fuck traffic lights Fuck buses Fuck locks Fuck pigeons….
"Dick?"
"Roy."
"...If you don't mind, perhaps Alfred might purchase your wardrobe from now on."
3/8/08