Part 1
… Ra’s al Ghul, Ra’s al Ghul… immortal; heh, thanks to the Lazarus Pits; so how can he look for a successor for his League of Assassins, even Batman, if that guy’s going to be mortal; and number two, if he’s immortal, why would he want a successor in the first place? And how can Batman succeed him if he and Ra’s al Ghul are mortal enemies, which doesn’t make sense, because one of them’s immortal, so they’re half mortal, which doesn’t make sense, because you’re either mortal or you’re not, unless we’re talking about the potency of a given mortality, which is half as effective as full mortality, which doesn’t make sense, because mortal is mortal, although Batman’s son is Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, so maybe the son is half mortal and that’s good enough to run the League after Batman, if he finally takes the job, after Ra’s al Ghul goes – ooohh, but he can’t go because he’s immortal, unless he steps down voluntarily – but why would he do that…?
I’m going to need some more of that vanishing cream for my hands. Damn, I can’t believe these can actually be liver spots. I’m not that old yet – in my early 50s, for godsakes. Maybe it’s just irregular exposure to the sun – in the summer; that is, this past summer… I realize it’s wintertime now – duuuhh; I’m not stupid…
… I mean, I mean…
… And what are the girls in the bars going to think, I mean, I’m still a relatively young man, early 50s, for chrissakes, they’re gonna look down at my hands, and…
… Maybe I can wear gloves – yeah, like it’s part of my natural getup – expensive, shiny, tight, high-quality black leather gloves – yeah, as if I’d always done it… make me look pretty cool, like I’m chief editor by day, hip underground band drummer by night. Or the front man. Hell, they don’t have to know which band or where I play. I don’t have to tell them a damn thing…
… or, or, maybe I’ve got a country estate and manor where I raise and train falcons, or I’m a jet-setting screenplay writer or develop photographs in a darkroom and do charity art exhibits as a hobby, or…
… and I wanna be published like Batman, I’ll show them, I’ll start my own Internet satire magazine, they’re not gonna tell me I’m not in charge of this newsroom, each goddamn one of them is corrupt, and I’m gonna get them in that magazine I launch, and I’m starting it right now, damn right I am, the first piece I write today, just have to pay someone to set me up with a website, a few other things, I suppose – but that’s okay – and that’s, and that’s Moe Zaire, corrupt Kyiv Poster publisher, and Jakoff Perfidsky, his upstart Jew CEO – he’s not even an American; he’s not even a native speaker; I was HIS boss, for crying out loud!!! Jeez… jeez… for chrissakes, godammit GODAMMIT!!!
And then all the others… and then all the others… I’m in charge here, goddamn it – I’m in charge! I’ll show them all!!! Hey, hey, give me that phone… Hello, HELLO!!!
Jeezos H. Crrrist, Brrrent, you do not have to scream into ze telephone, I’m telling you again, so how many times do I have to tell you?
You don’t tell me anything, Lemurov, because it’s me who’s in charge here – you got that!
Surrre, Brrrent, whatever it eez that you do say… But why eet eez that you call on the phone me if I am rrright here een ze newsroom…?
You’re not that close, Lemurov. Calling you is my prerogative. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get anything done.
Oh, nooo, Brrrent, I do not agrrree. I am rrright here, and verrry so close, just a few desks down and adjacently to you as een ze kitty corner…
Lemurov – I can’t let you put your byline on this story. You got journalists from other international institutions the Kyiv Poster cooperates with to write it, I’ll grant you that, but your work isn’t in here!
Oh, nooo, Brrrent, for I strrrongly verrry disagrrree. Eet eez my verrry hard work which has had gotten the journalists for writing ze report, so my name verrry much belongs over ze article.
No, Lemurov, you’ll get credit for your organizational and coordinating work at the end of the story in italics, but no byline.
Oh, nooo, Brrrent, for I do not so think Jakoff Perfidsky will agree. So I am now just writing heem zeez note…
Note?! What for? I’m in charge here.
Well, okay, Brrrent, goodbye now. I hope eet eez not too hard editing ze article.
Goodbye?! Where the hell are you going? I didn’t tell you you could leave yet! You know I’m going to have some questions!
Oh, nooo, Brrrent, for Perfidsky Jakoff has had said for us to leave when we feel we have done ze work of the day. I have had make my phone call and my emails checked. So that we do not get too tired. He so said. So then goodbye…
Hey, hey! Where are you going? You can’t leave. Hey, you, over there, where the hell do you think you’re going? And you – hey… hey…!!!
Filed by Jack Step, for the Interregnum Fossil Disposer, Hairpin Turn Page, December 17, 2013