Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom Batman!
I was also joking about going outside and hugging somebody. We haven't actually fixed every social ill so if you try that, you might get shot in the face.
Time to take Course #5! It's a mystery story called "The Guest" and it's copyright Trixie Belden!
Trixie Belden had her arms full of lesbian pornography when she rang the doorbell of the Madame's House.
"Well, hi!" said Honey Wheeler, Trixie's teenaged lover, who opened the door. She took the pornography from Trixie's arms and casually slid the back of her hand across Trixie's breasts as she did so. The way Trixie's nipple instantly grew hard against her skin made Honey's labia swell. "What's up? You look like a traveling library."
"I had to do a paper about the European history of same sex pornography, and Jim loaned these to me," Trixie said as she wiped her hands diligently on the front of her skirt. "Is the pervert home? I promised I'd return them when I finished."
Before Honey could kiss Trixie open mouthed, a slim dark-haired man came down the stairs. He paused when Honey turned toward him, blushing.
"Trixie, this is our guest, Mr. Ivannascrewu," Honey said.
The man pulled his penis out of his pants. It was misshapen and semi-erect. Trixie grimaced, looked at Honey, and mouthed, "What the fuck?"
"Mr. Ivannascrewu met our friends, the Bronsons, in Paris," Honey explained to Trixie's satisfaction. She'd heard about Paris! Ooh la la! "They asked him to call my parents." Trixie looked confused and horny because Honey's statement didn't make sense and she was exuding a delicious, pre-intimate scent which Trixie was all too familiar with.
"And I am most happy to oblige," said the man about the call to the parents which still didn't seem to make any sense and Trixie was really hoping Honey would explain better. Or maybe Honey would just shove her tongue up Trixie's womanly font of sensual aromas and Trixie could just forget about this weirdness.
The man spoke again in a strong accent: "Mrs. Wheeler was so kind to ask me to stay here in this beautiful place. I travel much on business, and one gets tired of hotels. But brothels? Oh! Oh! My penis stiffens at the very thought!" I noticed, thought Trixie as she felt her breakfast working its way back up her gullet.
"The Madame's House is beautiful," Trixie agreed. "Is your home in Paris?" Trixie wasn't even aware that she'd pulled out her pad and pencil and was taking notes. Always the consummate (and consummating!) detective!
"It is now, but it was not always so," Mr. Ivannascrewu told her. "I was born in Romania, in a village in the Carpathian Mountains."
"The Carpathians?" Trixie brightened up and Honey Wheeler realized she might as well put away her metaphorical dick. She knew when Trixie's mind had gone from clit tickling to full blown detectivating! "Isn't Dracula's castle in the Carpathians?"
"Dracula?" For an instant, the guest looked around for a place to flee. Then he laughed. "Ah, yes. The vampire count that is totally not me that some so-clever person totally made up because he isn't real and isn't here or anything so silly. His penis was totally straight, did you know that? I think I may have possibly heard of this 'Draguler,' was it? Sometimes in Europe, they still show the motion pictures in the theaters. But if you will excuse me, please? I am keeping Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler tied up. Ha ha. Figuratively, of course!"
Mr. Ivannascrewu put his penis away and went into the blowing room. A moment later, Trixie heard him fucking Honey's parents.
"Honey!" Trixie said in low, sexy tones. "I think your mother should telephone the Bronsons right away and ask how well they know that man's penis. I think he's a fake!"
Why did Trixie suspect Wheelers' guest?
Trixie probably suspected the guest was a bloodsucking vampire because his shirt was covered in blood and gore and because he lisped (although I forgot to write the lisp into his dialogue) and he was steaming from the sunlight coming in the windows. None of the things I mentioned were also mentioned in the story though so I don't know how Trixie figured out the guy was a vampire. I think I finally failed a class! I'd better read the answer!
Any true Romanian would know that Count Dracula was a real person who lived in the Carpathians centuries ago, and that he was not simply a character in a book and a motion picture.
Wait. What? That's how she figured out that this guy was a confidence man from New Jersey?! I guess what this course is teaching me is that I shouldn't base my suspicions on facts but on my own gut instincts after which I can make up facts to show how my gut instincts weren't just gut instincts but based in some kind of logical deduction of the facts presented. I think Trixie just got lucky this time! She probably, intuitively, realized his accent was completely bogus and he sounded more like some guy from the Jersey Shore than a real, honest-to-goodness vampire like he was pretending to not be! Even though I didn't solve this mystery, I think I learned an important lesson about fingering any old suspect for a crime no matter what the evidence shows. Sometimes you'll get lucky! And sometimes it won't matter because who cares if you caught the right person as long as the public thinks you did! I'm going to be a great detective in no time!
Anyway, on to Arkham Manor and another mystery to solve!
Why is this guy Meek in The Joker's cell?! Oh yeah! Because Batman couldn't take him to the cops so he shoved him in The Joker's cell and then told the media to make a big deal about how some guy was in The Joker's cell. I think it was supposed to scare Mister Meek and not actually get him killed. But if he does die, I think it's Batman's fault, right?
While Meek flips the fuck out because he knows The Joker is about to kill him, Batman confronts The Spelunker inside the wall and says, "Let's get this over with! We don't have many pages left before Convergence!"
Batman defeats the Spelunker and kicks him through the outside wall of Arkham Manor and into the snow so that the other inmates can watch him beat the guy's ass from their windows. Batman asks him who he is but the guy bites his own tongue off. I guess we'll just have to go with calling him the Spelunker!
From his DNA? Did he leave it all over the inside of the walls? Was he, in fact, the SPERMLUNKER?!
Batman does some detective work which is mostly composed of going to the boy's home address and picking the lock on the front door. Inside he finds blood spattered family photos! That can't be good!
Arkham Manor #5 Rating: No change. I should hire somebody to do this part of the review where I actually sometimes review the comic instead of saying stupid things about it. I could pay them in warm fuzzies although I'm better at giving cold pricklies. But at least when people finish reading one of my commentaries, they'll get to read a nice little synopsis that tells them how they should have felt reading the comic book instead of some nonsense like what you're currently reading now. How else are people going to know if they enjoyed Arkham Manor if a professional critic like me doesn't tell them? Oh! Maybe I think I just figured out exactly how I should end these commentaries! Let's try it:
"You liked this comic book a lot for its offbeat art and the whimsical nature of the portrayal of some of the Arkhamites. You thought it wrapped up a little too quickly with an underwhelming final boss battle but soon realized that Batman struggles far too often for the sake of fake tension when in reality he should subdue most criminals easily. You were satisfied and appreciative of the tale told so far. It didn't make you feel stupid the way Catwoman does and it didn't make you feel angry the way Deathstroke does. After setting it down and reflecting, you felt like you had a belly full of warm semen. I mean pudding. And it was delicious. The semen not the pudding."
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