The Bat

I had a dream that lead up to the following Batman “Fashion”story idea that you see below.
So, without further delay....

Bruce Wayne’s parents never died. He grew up being a spoiled brat that forsake his parents and moved out in his teens to a nearby cave he happened upon. He was always a fan of clothing and moved in that direction. His critical eye for detail, vivid imagination and didactic memory helped him in his pursuit to be the best designer in Gotham city. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps. He wanted his only son to carry on the Wayne name with pride. Thomas was married to his work and more times than usual he ignored his wife and son, thus giving Bruce father issues and making him always seeking approval from older, stronger male figures of authority.

Bruce was kicked out of all of his prep schools but when his father threatened him with military school, he stopped rebelling so much. He didn’t become a model student but moved like a phantom in his parent’s life. He came home during vacation and holidays but never stayed in the Wayne Mansion. He lived in the “Bat-Cave” as his mother called it.

After he graduated he went to fashion school and studied under a famous European Clothing Designer Rahz. Under Rahz's tutelage Bruce becomes his best student and his first clothing show under the Rahz's clothing line "Embre" is the best in decades.

There was  a fight  with Rahz and Bruce. Rahz would move out of the limelight and let Bruce be his successor. He helps Bruce still when he faces tough choices in life.

A rival fashion designer Dent, crassly called two face because he has bell’s palsy that has paralyzed the left side of his face which causes his face to frown/grimace on that side. Dent’s is obsessed with duality of things. He refers to himself as “we” like the editorial or royal “we” when he is interviewed by reporters. He secretly loves the sympathy he gets because of his face and would never say it out loud.

Bruce and Dent are at a Fashion show and the death of one of Wayne's models occurs.

Bruce is placed in a role that he is uncomfortable with. He must find the killer among the fashion designers there at the show.

There are no weapons or fighting involved. No gadgets or Bat-mobiles either. Bruce does wear something on his face in honor of Rahz to show his allegiance to Embre clothing line.  

Bruce has to use his wits and mind to figure out who is the killer.

The boy named Regal

His parents raised him to believe he was a 1986 Buick Regal.
As a child, he knew something was off by that rational. Instead of playing with other
children they were more interested in his 0 to 60 time, his handling and his rpms.
"But I look like other children." He would tell them desperately. Just trying to
get them to listen him.
"No." They would say.
"We bought you at the Steinberg dealership on highway 710. You were a lease with an
option to buy."
They were very adamant about getting rid of all thought in his head that he was a human.
They referred to Doctor checkups and physicals as tuneups. They kept a log of how far he could
walk before having to eat or drink using a pedometer. They were worried about mpg he showed, compared to the mpg that his warranty had said.

He was denied any kind of processed junk food for fear it would make him miss fire or have issues with ignition. They were also worried about taking him out on "joy rides". His father insisted he stay in the garage and made him use skin care products every day.
Later in life he'll be the first human to identify as an Autosexual, and
will be brought up on vehicular sodomy charges on a 2003 Toyota Prius.

(This mini story came from hearing a child in a supermarket making revving noises instead of talking to his parents when they asked him what he wanted to eat.)

Autumn's Child

I really feel lost without fall. I walk around in a
somnambulistic daze in this thick, unyielding, torridity.
I sit here in the dark this morning, typing this with the
air turned to 70 degrees.

I Don't want to venture forth into the day because my world
will come to an end once I open the door and feel the desperate heat greet me in breathtaking gusts and humidity worse enough to make you wish you could grow gills and breathe like a fish.

I feel absolutely, romantically charged. Like a lover in an airport, peering over the heads of people looking for your face, just waiting for that connection again, that spark to come back. I bite my lip, waiting impatiently for September 22, just to see your face again. Just writing this down makes me feel giddy. I can't wait to feel you in my hair, vellicate my face and hear you run in the fragile branches of the trees. I miss you so much.

picture by me

The towheaded boy and the whale.

And this towheaded boy, he would grow up to hate and fear the thought of whales. Creatures of epic proportion that loved to loiter around boats filled with people, their high pitched whines and clicks that you can feel within your very bones.

It's rather sad that this boy hasn't watched Moby Dick yet, and become really disturbed by the thought of Gregory Peck's Captain Ahab, dead and tangled up in the harpoon ropes that were wrapped around the Ivory nightmare.

He hasn't been scared by the scene where Ahab's lifeless body appears to move and gesture causing a crew member to shout, "Do you see? Do you see? Ahab beckons, he's dead but he beckons!" He hasn't been thinking about that wrathful leviathan when he was little and how it would terrify him at night when he tried to sleep!

Cut to now, he's older and those thoughts have no hold of him anymore, or so he thinks.The fear breaks the surface again when he's looking at pictures of a diver admiring a pod of sleeping sperm whales. He gets a cold feeling in his stomach, and he feels suddenly sick and his heart beats faster.

Then he realizes that it's not all whales that scare him, it's just these abominations. These alien looking, mistakes of nature.

He knows it all stems from Moby Dick. But you have to admit. They are creepy!
(also it stems from an adult telling him when he was very young that a man was swallowed up by a whale and was rescued. The rescued man's skin was all sort of odd colors due to almost being digested by the whale's stomach acid.)

Here's the chilling clip from Moby Dick
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLTlfljynV4

Here's the link to the legend of the man being eaten by a whale.
http://www.ycaol.com/swallowed.htm

Frank Doubleday dream

I had a dream the other night that I worked in an Arby’s restaurant with group of guys and one of them was the actor Frank Doubleday. The place reminded me of a ship and we were her crew with a living quarters attached to the back and we were not allowed to leave unless told that we could by the manager.

Frank Doubleday as Romero in Escape from New York

I guess Frank worked there too, even though I never saw him working. But then again, I didn’t do any work either. He appeared just like he did in the 80’s slightly longish dirty blonde hair and he was wearing a tan suit, white shirt and blue tie. He was setting on an old beat up copper colored couch, saying, “I’m afraid no one remembers me.” His voice was watery, cracked and sad, like any minute he would start crying.

I was setting in a chair across from him and listening to him talk and seeing how was feeling sent me into a fury. I wasn’t mad at him, just mad at the indifference of the world.

I stood up and pointed at him.

“You are Frank Doubleday!” I shouted to him.

“You chewed up the screen any time you were on it in Escape from New York! You’re

every movement was precise and wonderful! You stood beside the always stunning Adrienne Barbeau and you made people forget about her! That’s a hard thing to do!”

I walked over to where he sat and continued.

“When you look over at her, unbutton your shirt a little, and then tie the bottom in a knot like your trying to mimic her was absolute gold! Everything you did in that movie was gold!”

Frank in The Big Fix

He blinked away the tears and nervously smiled, and looked away from me and down to his hands that were in his lap. He chuckled and looked back up at me and smiled even bigger and said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” in a whispery kind of voice.

This dream stuck with me all day long. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and why I had it.

I was left with a sense of accomplishment when I woke up, thinking that I helped out a childhood idol of mine, but something still stuck with me.

Frank in the tv show Sledgehammer

I thought about how I have wanted to reconnect with people that I used to be close to. But really, I want to be a good memory for someone out there. Something I do or say, something I create. I hope that I will be remembered in a good way to someone out there.

So, I think I projected my fear of not being remembered in my dream onto Frank Doubleday, or that’s what I am getting out of it. Now I feel the urge to contact him and tell him about my dream.

I got a wild hair to seek out and interview actor Frank Doubleday (Romero in Escape from New York) and I find his wife's number and call it out of curiosity and it's legit the Doubleday family telephone number! So naturally I panicked and hung up. But I did call back and left them my email address.

Hope you are all well and haven't turned into a Delta wave state forever. 

Also, Educate yourself. Here are some links on Frank Doubleday and his works.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Doubleday_(actor)

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0234664/

If Hal Hartley wrote Batman

                                                                                                                                                                                                     

This has floated around the interwebs for some time but it appears that it's lost now. I was glad that I had saved it in a random file on a flash drive. I would love to know who originally wrote this. If you know of Hal Hartley's films (especially the film, "Simple Men"), then you should get it. 

BATMAN: Damn, where the hell did I put that bat suit?

ROBIN: Do you think Cat Woman digs me?

BATMAN: I swear I left it in the closet in the Bat Cave.

ROBIN: Don't swear; you're a role model. Maybe I should write her poetry.

BATMAN: Role models are human; and, therefore, flawed.

ROBIN: That's no excuse. Children look up to you.

BATMAN: What makes you think Cat Woman digs you?

ROBIN: That's what Alfred said.

BATMAN: How would Alfred know?

ROBIN: When was the last time Alfred was wrong?

BATMAN: Good point.

ROBIN: Thanks.

BATMAN: Think he knows where my bat suit is?

ROBIN: Probably. Why don't you ask him?

BATMAN: I would, but he's with Cat Woman right now.

ROBIN: Do you think she digs me?

BATMAN: I don't know. Why don't you write her some poetry?

ROBIN: I'm not a poet. I'm just some lame sidekick who wears funny, ugly clothes and a stupid mask that barely conceals my vacuous identity.

BATMAN: Don't take it so hard.

ROBIN: Why not?

BATMAN: I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to say.

ROBIN: Why say anything?

BATMAN: I have to. I'm a role model.