You kind of have to know my sister for this to be funny, and even then, it's not THAT funny

My sister thinks I'm Batman. In part, this is because we were at Great Adventure in 2001, and I spent the better part of an afternoon insisting, in fact exulting, in the fact that I was, in fact, Batman. Quite an afternoon, let me tell you. I believe I also managed to report that "my shoes hurt," and spill a creamsicle-flavored ice cream cone.

In case you're curious, I was being myself that day. I really am retarded, I'm just playing smart/normal most of the time.

Spoiler alert, by the way: this post contains the word "retarded," used in a personally derogatory fashion. An example of such retardation is putting a spoiler alert in the paragraph after the spoiler, and then finding it hilarious that you did that.

Anyway, this is my text message conversation my sister, doing my best to recreate the aesthetic of the iPhone (Knickers) on which it took place:

Bro

BATMAN!

I'm Robin

WHAT's uP?
-batman.

Nothing. You? - Robin

Oh, you know. Fightin crime.
Saving Gotham The yoozh.

Me too. Wanna join forces?

Join forces? Pul-lease!
I'm batman, for crying out
loud. I don't join forces,
you ask to be my ward!

BATMAN!?!? More like
butt man

Robin, like bobbin' for
Batman's butt!

This reminds me of my funny joke idea about a Jewish guy whose last name is Batman - not a combination of "bat" and "man," but in the sense like Goldman or Silverman or Pearlman have the "-man" appended to them, even though it could just as easily be "-stein."

Spoiler alert: this post contains some language about Judaism that could be misconstrued as derogatory, although you would have to be retarded not to get it.

Anyway, this guy keeps getting all these urgent phone calls in the middle of the night, "Batman, help, my cat is up a tree," and "Riddle me this, is your refrigerator running?" (to which he obviously responded, "that is NOT A RIDDLE!"), and "hey Batman, do you know where I can score some crack?" and "is this really Batman? Because I thought of calling 9-1-1, but you always seem to have better luck with traffic, and I'm bleeding pretty severely."

Finally, he decides he has to pack up and move out of Gotham. And he ends up living in a town where his next door neighbor is ironically named Hitler, who's actually a sweet, old hippie dude like Jerry Garcia. And they do this charitable boxing match, billed as "Batman vs. Hitler (For Real!)" that tanks when Hitler wins one night.

Much like the above text message conversation, it didn't have a perfect ending. I apologize for the both of them.