"Good news, my dear!" announced Jonathan Crane, as he opened the door to his home. "Jervis took me to see the man who sold him his hookah, and he had a supply of marijuana he was willing to sell for a small fee."
"Oh, that is good news!" said Emilia, coming over to greet him with a kiss. "It would have been disappointing to avoid illegal drugs when we're meant to be acting like teenagers – that should ideally be the highlight of the weekend."
"Here it is," said Crane, handing her a small packet of leaves.
"Oh. What are we meant to do with that?" asked Emilia, puzzled.
"I think we're meant to roll it and smoke it like cigarettes," said Crane.
"In just regular paper?" asked Emilia. "Or is there some kind of special smoking paper we have to get?"
"I have no idea, my love," he replied. "We'll have to look it up on the internet."
"I was under the impression it would be in some kind of edible form. Like a brownie," said Emilia. "Is inhaling something like that into your lungs really safe?"
"I think it's the nicotine that's the danger in smoking," said Crane. "I don't think this has nicotine in it – the man in the shop said it was 100% marijuana from a perfectly legal dispensary in another state."
"Well, we shall also have to look up how to imbibe it on the internet," said Emilia. "Honestly, I'm sure teenagers don't need to do that when confronted with weed for the first time. Why is it just us? As adults, we should theoretically know more than them, and I'm sure most adults know how to do this."
"I think there are essential peer to peer conversations and experiences we must have missed out on," sighed Crane. "It's almost like missing a developmental stage, isn't it? But I suppose that's the point of this exercise – to go through that developmental stage belatedly."
"Well, never mind – we'll worry about the weed later," said Emilia. "We're saving that for last, after all. First up on our agenda is shoplifting alcohol from a local convenience store."
"It does seem to rather defeat the point of having an irresponsible weekend if we have an agenda for it," commented Crane. "I don't think rebellions often come with schedules."
"Maybe they'd be more efficient if they did," retorted Emilia. "Mind you, it also seems to defeat the point of shoplifting alcohol, since we're old enough to buy it, but this is a psychological experiment above all, so practicalities don't really enter into it."
"Quite right," agreed Crane. "All right, let's head out."
"Are you wearing that?" asked Emilia, looking at him.
"Yes, why not?" he asked, looking down at his regular brown slacks, turtleneck, and jacket.
"It just doesn't scream teenager to me," she said. "You might have dressed that way as a teenager, and I suspect you did, but we're meant to be embracing the stereotype of rebellion."
"I don't think I have anything particularly rebellious in my closet," retorted Crane.
"I know, that's why I bought you something," she said, heading into the bedroom.
Crane stared at the outfit laid out on the bed in horror, an outfit that consisted of black skinny jeans, a tight, ripped black shirt with netted sleeves, and black lipstick and eyeliner, and immediately announced, "I'm not wearing that."
"We're meant to be rebelling against the comfortable and the familiar," retorted Emilia. "And this is definitely that for you. Don't worry – I didn't leave myself out of the discomfort stakes," she added, heading over to her closet.
"I have no idea how to put on eyeliner, and neither do you," snapped Crane, as he reached for the makeup.
"We'll have to look that up on the internet as well – there are all kinds of tutorial videos online, don't worry," said Emilia. "I can't wait to see you all decked out for melodrama, my little emo."
"And your uncomfortable outfit would be?" asked Crane with a sigh, as he began to change reluctantly.
"This," said Emilia, emerging from her closet suddenly in a crop top, and shorts the length of panties, with a thong peering out over them.
Crane's jaw dropped. "You're not going outside in that!" he exclaimed.
"Why not?" she asked, innocently.
"Because it's so…so…so…revealing," he stammered.
"Yes, and incredibly tight," sighed Emilia. "But are you more worried about what people will think, or that you won't be able to control yourself in public?"
"Emilia, you can't be comfortable…" began Crane.
"Yes, the whole point of this exercise is to break us out of our comfort zones, Jonathan," she interrupted. "Now you're not my father, and I'm not your daughter, and even if that were the case, you would not be dictating what I'm wearing, understood?"
"You don't think our daughters will try and wear anything like that when they're teenagers, do you?" asked Crane.
"I certainly hope not," she retorted. "But if that's the worst thing they do as teenagers, we'll count our blessings. Now come on, get changed and we'll do your makeup. I think it's something to do with my morbid personality, but I do find the deathly look rather attractive. I should have been born in the 1840s when the tuberculosis victim look was all the rage."
"It's fortunate for me you weren't," retorted Crane.
"Maybe less fortunate when I subject you to eyeliner," she said with a smile.
"My dear, I will suffer through anything for you," he said. "But I can tell you already that I look forward to this weekend being over – I'm too old to be this uncomfortable for any length of time."
"Mmm, but you're so cute when you're uncomfortable," she said, kissing him. "Now let's get you gothed up."
…
"People are staring, and no wonder," muttered Crane under his breath. "I feel utterly ridiculous."
"How do you think I feel?" asked Emilia. "And I'm certain they're staring more at me. Anyway, as a man who regularly wears costumes, you should be used to being stared at by now," she added, as she opened the door to the convenience store and entered. "And to looking ridiculous."
"My costume was personally designed and tailored by an expensive French designer," retorted Crane. "This outfit was designed and tailored by clearly a blind madman."
"I won't take that personally, my darling," said Emilia, as they headed over to the liquor aisle. The store was mostly empty – a few customers perused the shelves, and the clerk behind the counter spared them a brief glance before returning his attention to his phone.
"All right – he's distracted," said Emilia, as she put down her purse and reached for a bottle of vodka. She pretended to examine the label as she slowly and carefully brought the bottle down to her purse…
The bell over the door rang as another customer entered the store. A customer who instantly pulled out a gun and drew it on the clerk, shouting, "Empty the cash register now! And don't try anything funny!"
"Oh God, armed robbery is not the distraction we need," muttered Crane. "I should teach that pathetic little punk a lesson in fear…"
"Jonathan, no," said Emilia, laying her hand on his. "He's got a gun, and you don't. And I know you didn't bring your fear gas, because you can't hide anything in that outfit, so just let it go."
"But we're meant to be rebelling…" began Crane.
"Yes," interrupted Emilia. "And rebelling in this case means not reacting in this situation. Remember, you're a teenage outcast who believes that the world is against him, so you have no inclination to help the world. You should applaud that young man and his brave stand against an uncaring society."
Crane sighed but reluctantly ignored the robbery, taking another bottle of vodka from the shelf…
Something suddenly smashed through the glass window of the convenience store, a black shape which seized the robber around the throat, shoving him down on the counter.
"Don't worry, citizen, order and justice have arrived," said the figure in a gravelly voice, nodding at the clerk. "And order and justice are about to beat the crap outta you, kid," he added, glaring at the robber.
"Uh…Batman?" asked the clerk, studying the figure in confusion.
"That's right, I'm Batman," retorted the figure. "Otherwise known as your worst nightmare, punk," he growled, lifting the robber up by his collar.
"You don't really…look like Batman," said the clerk, slowly.
"Yes, I do!" shouted the figure, rounding on him. "I've got the cape and the cowl and the belt and the voice! I look just like Batman!"
"You're just a little…thinner than I expected," said the clerk.
"And you're wearing makeup," voiced the robber. "You think I'm scared of some guy wearing makeup?"
"You think this is makeup?" growled the figure. "Batman doesn't wear makeup! Aside from the mask, this is my natural goddamn face!"
"But nobody naturally has skin that white and lipstick…" began the clerk, and then he paled as white as the man's face. "Oh my God, the Joker!" he gasped.
"No, I'm Batman!" shouted Joker. "Batman, Batman, Batman!" he shouted, slamming the robber's face repeatedly against the counter. "Batman! Joker wouldn't be breaking up a robbery, would he?! Joker would be joining in, and taking the cash himself! But I'm not gonna do that, because I'm Batman! Now give back what he gave you!" he demanded, hauling the robber to his feet. "Go on, hand it over and I'll break your fingers!"
"Don't you mean...or you'll break my fingers?" gasped the robber, as he handed the cash back to the clerk.
"No," retorted Joker, seizing the robber's hand and placing it on the counter, and then smashing his fingers individually with a Batarang as the man howled and writhed in pain.
"Now I'm gonna tie you up here and leave you for the cops," continued Joker, pulling out his grappling hook. "They should be on their way since the clerk here pressed the silent alarm. If I was Joker, I wouldn't leave you to them - I'd kill you after thinking up a suitable punchline, like 'kids these days are nothing but an inconvenience!' Get it, because it's a convenience store? But I don't explain jokes, and I don't make jokes because I'm Batman!"
"O…K…thank you…Batman," stammered the clerk.
"Just doing my job, citizen," said Joker, as he secured the rope around the robber. "Or my hobby, I guess – I don't get paid for this, though I damn well should. I never appreciated before just how busy Bats is all the time – there's just so much crime in this town! If it keeps up at this rate, honestly, I'm just gonna have to start shooting people. And I hate that, and Batsy hates that, but what are you gonna do?" he sighed. "Anyway, I'm off to go bring the brutal fist of justice to more criminal scum…"
He trailed off when he noticed Crane and Emilia staring at him. "Wow, would you look at that!" he said, beaming. "From Scarecrow to just The Crow! And me without my camera! You'd think he'd have one in one of these utility belt pockets! And I know I've said this many times before, but your wife is way too hot for you, Craney."
"Thank you, Joker…" began Crane.
"Batman!" interrupted Joker. "Why is that so hard for everyone?! Why else would I be dressed like this and running around like a lunatic if I wasn't Batman?!"
"I don't…know," stammered Crane. "Anyway…Batman…we'll just be going…"
"Oh yeah, off to do some rebelling, no doubt!" chuckled Joker. "I guess you're dressed for it, and you know I believe in dressing the part!"
"Always nice to see you…" said Crane, trying to shuffle past him out of the convenience store.
"You'd better be paying for that alcohol," interrupted Joker, grabbing his arm. "And the bottle stashed in your wife's purse. It would be a shame if I had to make an example of you like I did of this punk, wouldn't it?" he asked, his hand tightening on Crane's wrist.
"Yes, we were just paying for it, Batman," interrupted Emilia, putting her bottle on the counter. "Go on, Jonathan, add yours."
"That'll be…$30.67," stammered the clerk, ringing up the alcohol.
"You know, I've just realized that I left my wallet at home," said Crane. "So we'll just forget about the alcohol, thank you…"
"I'll get it," interrupted Joker. "You can owe me," he added, reaching into his utility belt and pulling out a credit card. "It's a Bat-credit card," he added, handing it to the clerk. "Never leave the Cave without it. And if you get the reference, I'm sorry."
"Thank…thank you, Batman," stammered the clerk, swiping the card and handing it back.
"You didn't card me," said Joker, frowning at him. "How do you know I'm old enough to buy alcohol without checking my ID? Or the ID of these freaks – they look like teenagers, don't they?"
"Erm…" began the clerk. "Not really…"
"It's a violation of the law – you're meant to check the ID of anyone who looks under 21," interrupted Joker. "And that's definitely me. All right, come over here so I can tie you up next to this robber – the cops can take you away too," he sighed. "So many criminals in this town, I tell ya!"
"Are you…kidding?" stammered the clerk, staring at him.
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" demanded Joker. "Batman doesn't kid! Get over here before I drag you over the counter and beat you around the head a few times just because I feel like it, because I'm Batman!"
"We'll leave you to your…work," said Emilia, as Joker handcuffed the clerk next to the robber. "Come along, Jonathan, let's go."
"We should have stood up to him," growled Crane as they left the store. "We're meant to be rebelling, for God's sake! We should have told him we were shoplifting and not given a damn what he or anyone else thinks…"
"I've no desire to be beaten up today or any other day, thank you," retorted Emilia. "Especially since Joker as Batman seems even more sadistic than usual, and that's saying something. It's interesting though, isn't it, that he sees Batman as the more violent of the two of them?"
"I think he sees Batman more as unthinking aggression, and he's not wrong about that," sighed Crane. "While I believe he considers himself more the intellectual thug, if such a thing isn't an oxymoron. He excuses the violence he commits as a joke, while he can't see Batman having any such excuse, and therefore sees him as simply a heavy-handed brute. Which again, is not entirely unfair. I just hope Batman gets back soon to put an end to this nonsense."
"Agreed," sighed Emilia. "But hopefully Joker won't spoil our weekend anymore. Come on, let's go drink vodka in the car and make out in the backseat," she said, taking his hand. "We can still do those teenage things even though the shoplifting failed."
"Yes, and there's nothing illegal in that, so hopefully he'll leave us alone," agreed Crane, as they headed for the car. "And hopefully next time we try something illegal, fake Batman won't be there to stop us."
His hopes were going to be halfway disappointed.