Robin sits down to dinner. The table is huge, and it spans most of the similarly-gigantic room, which is full of suits of armor and gargoyles and other gothic crap that Batman collects. On all four walls enormous televisions blare Fox News. The monstrous visage of Sean Hannity looms above Batman, who glowers fifty feet away. Steak again, thinks Robin, as he watches Batman skewer a piece of rare meat and chew it loudly with his mouth open.
"You're late," says Batman. Robin wonders how Alfred has never said anything about Batman's ridiculously audible mastication.
"I was out," said Robin, picking at the side of beef on his plate. You could feed a lion this steak and it wouldn't be hungry for a week, he thinks.
"You were at one of those goddamn rallies again, weren't you?" says Batman, his voice rising.
"Yes," admits Robin. He doesn't want to have it out again, but he can tell from the empty bottle of Chardonnay that Batman has been drinking, and so a row is inevitable.
"See if Gotham University gets any of my money next year," he says, stuffing a huge chunk of steak into his mouth. "It's become a goddamn liberal haven for commie pinkos and theater majors." Batman does a little gesture with his arms when he says theater majors that Robin interprets as a homosexual stereotype.
"You don't think there's anything wrong with the direction our country is heading?" asks Robin tentatively.
"There's nothing wrong with the United States of America. Name one thing. One goddamn thing," says Batman, spitting some meat on the table.
"The President, for one," says Robin, almost under his breath.
"He was elected by the American people!" screams Batman, pounding his fist on the table.
"He lost the popular vote.." begins Robin.
"If all the goddamn Mexicans hadn't illegally voted, then it wouldn't have been close!" says Batman, throwing the empty bottle of wine across the room. It shatters against a gargoyle statue, breaking off a tip of the wing. "Fuck!" screams Batman. "Alfred! Get in here and sweep this shit up!"
"Congress is about to take healthcare away from 23 million people," says Robin, still level-headed.
"Welfare queens and lazy fuckers who don't want to work!"
"I don't even know how to respond to that," says Robin. "You're a billionaire. An heir to a fortune. You were set for life the second you were born."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" screams Batman, jumping up on the table. He whips out a batarang and hurls it at a suit of armor, causing it to tumble apart. "You think I've had it easy? My parents were murdered in front of my goddamn eyes."
"You really need to see somebody about that," says Robin. "Like a psychiatrist."
"Shrinks are for lesbians and fat kids who masturbate to pterodactyl porn!" babbles Batman. He jumps down from the table and tries to flip it, but it's just too long and heavy.
"I think I'm going to go upstairs," says Robin, getting up from his seat.
"Don't you dare, don't you goddamn dare! Alfred hasn't even brought the fourth course. Where the hell is that old man? Jesus, I need to get myself a Spanish maid."
"Maybe if you offered him a better health plan he'd get that hip fixed," suggests Robin, already leaving the room.
"It's not my responsibility!" yells Batman, who has succeeded in breaking off a piece of the table. He throws it at Robin, but he has vanished, and the projectile bounces harmlessly off the open door. Batman then falls down on the floor in a drunken stupor, where he will remain till morning. Alfred will clean up the mess, as he does every night. He thinks of moving in with his brother in Metropolis, but he doesn't know what Batman will do without him, and he doesn't want that on his conscience.
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