Batman is grinding his way through a bowl of grapenuts when Robin appears in the kitchen, his bags packed. His face wears a pained expression, as though he is dreading what is coming next. Nevertheless, he pulls up a chair and sits down next to Batman, his hands folded together before him.
"I'm moving out," he says
"'About time," replies Batman. His mastication sounds like the grinding of gears.
"Bruce, we've known each other a long time. You've been like a father to me. But the last four years or so, we've grown apart..."
"Liberal pussy talk," snorts Batman in disgust.
"And I really can't take it anymore. Not with a month to go. I need to be some place else."
"Why? What's happening in a month?" asks Batman, a slight smile on his unshaven face.
"Americans get one last chance to save their democracy," says Robin.
"More like Americans get one more chance to make America liberal pussy free," says Batman.
"That's the position you're going to take? Is that a real argument or just a senseless insult?" asks Robin.
"Got to watch the polls. Christ knows Antifa will be out, along with the Black Lives Matter punks. I'll be there, roosting. Any child-kidnapping, Satan-worshiping communists try to cast their vote, well, they'll be good and fucked, lemme tell you. I ain't dragging their ass to Commissioner Gordon. No one will ever find the bodies."
"I'm not really sure if you're serious or not. Tell me your not serious," pleads Robin.
"Oh I'm serious. I got contacts in Metropolis as well. They're planning a little something special for ol' illegal alien Clark Kent. Let's just say Superman will be forced to go back to his shit-hole country instead of infesting the US of A with his commie bullshit."
"His planet literally doesn't exist anymore, Bruce. You know that. You expect him to go back to a broken collection of rocks?"
"You can't let any of them in, not a single fucking one!" screams Batman, pounding his fist on the table. The bowl of grapenuts overturns and spills its rock-hard contents all over the floor.
"What the fuck happened to democracy?" asks Robin, getting up from the table.
"Democracy? This is a federal republic, not ancient Athens! This country was founded by white Christian men, and by god, that's how it's going to stay! We don't need any Kryptonians, no fucking Martian Manhunters, no goddamn illegals from under the sea that fuck dolphins and fish-people! I'm going to take a big fist-full of Jesus and shove it so far down their throats that when they take a shit, it'll be a perfect reproduction of Donald Trump's face!"
"What? You want Aquaman's poop to look like Trump? That's even bizarre for you, Bruce. Isn't that kind of disrespectful of the President?"
"Take your book-reading, soy-latte-sipping, manscaped pussy-queefing ass out of my mansion, you piece of shit!"
Robin ducks as the box of grapenuts flies past his face. He doesn't know what the next year will bring. He's not sure if he'll ever see Batman again. As he goes out the door, he is filled with an incredible sense of sadness. The MAGA sign in the front yard of Wayne Manor taunts him like one of the Joker's grotesque poisonous balloons, and he has to fight an urge to rend it into pieces. He knows he can't change Batman. He hopes Batman will change himself.
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