Batman Cards
By Brandon Hunter Murphy
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I quit babysitting recently for obvious reasons. I haven’t had any money since and have been living at my parent’s new house, here in Canada. They had to flee America, land of the free, home of the brave… for obvious reasons as well.
Now anyone that knows me, especially Richey Sizzles III, will tell you that I hate Canada. I would rather scratch my Uncle’s back like he makes me do when he babysits for me than ever stay in this country. That’s how much I hate this dump! I mean let’s be honest, it’s cold and damp and the people all talk like Gerard Depardieu when he tries to speak English in Green Card. Not to mention the money sucks. They call this one coin a “tooney” and another a “looney”. Give me a break. Damn!
Anyhow, out of work and away from my homeland of Cleveland, I was forced to trade Batman cards with this neighbor friend of mine for entertainment. His favorite guitar player is Ritchie Sambora??? I’ll be the first to admit that I love the early Bon Jovi up ‘til about their “Lay Your Hands on Me” days, because I’m sorry, but laying my hands on some gent is where I draw the line… (unless of course it’s my Uncle when he babysits, because he gives me his old Gameboy games as long as I “keep it between us,” as he says). I’ve also got problem with their lead singer, Jon. I mean this guy; he spells his name without an “h”… Oooh, big shot! Get over yourself asshole.
Anyways, getting back to my Batman cards. I’d really just started a collection because there really isn’t much else to do in this town except tease and throw rocks at this kid with funny eyes who wears a helmet when he goes out to play (although I’d hardly call what he does “playing”). Other than that we watch my friend’s sister change clothes through a hole that my friend (not the one I trade Batman cards with) drilled through her wall with a screwdriver on his Swiss Army Knife that his step dad got him so he’d love him… imitation Swiss Army Knife that is. Don’t get me wrong here, I mean I’d still like to sex his sister, but give me a break… she still wears a training bra.
So, I’ve got a pretty good collection going so far, of Batman cards that is. I’ve only got three out of six cards with the Joker on it, but out of the cards that I do have I can almost make the puzzle with the pictures that are on the back of the cards. Even though I’m still missing a few pieces, I’m pretty sure that it’s the Batmobile. Now, even though I am missing those pieces, don’t get discouraged and dump my stock just yet. I do have all the Bruce Wayne ones where he’s not dressed up as Batman. That little blonde that he runs around with definitely does something to me. I’m not saying I’d ever even think about sexing her… I mean I’d never do anything to upset Bruce Wayne or distract his focus from keeping law and order in Gotham City, but I’d definitely let her do some stuff to me… Shit, I’d probably do some stuff to her.
The kid that I trade Batman cards with only has four toes on his left foot. I’m the only one that knows that. He showed me one night when I slept over and we shared the same sleeping bag. We told each other everything that night and he swore that if I ever told anybody, he’d never let me come over and play Legend Of Zelda or watch those videos that his dad has under his bed that don’t have any titles on them. Those videos are something else. I’d just die if I couldn’t come over and watch them. Before my brother died in Operation Desert Shield he told me about sexing the Iraqi villagers that they captured. Don’t get me wrong, his stories were impressive, but these gents in the videos… Boy, they get right in there. God bless ‘em.
Minor setbacks prevented me from going to regular kids school. I say minor setbacks, because I didn’t do anything that any one of you wouldn’t have done if the opportunity presented itself to you as it did to me when I was living back in the States. Anyhow, I’m forced to go to this dump called Creative Environment. It rules in some respects because I only have to go Monday, Wednesday, and Friday… and only ‘till noon. The rest of the days I have to spend time with, are you ready for this???... my “sponsor”. He calls himself Tony and thinks his turds don’t reek because he’s black but talks like he’s white. Come on pal, nobody’s fooled. Not even for a second. Oh, I almost forgot… I’m totally set for the next two weeks. I’m not even allowed to go to school until the 12th because I tried to stab my teacher in her left knocker with some scissors while I was making my “friendship collage.” Let me tell you something gents, this beauty of a teacher of mine, Miss Persus, has definitely graduated from her training bra days! Christ Almighty! Brings a tear to my eye some days.
I tried telling her that I only had two friends (more than enough in Canada) and that hardly qualified me to make a collage. I mean come on; I’d look pretty foolish with my collage hanging in the hallway on Parents night with only two pictures. Anybody will agree that a collage has to have at least five pictures. So teach said, “Well how about your sponsor, Tony… You could put his picture on there”. “Tony??? On my collage??? Just how backwards is your thinking?” And she calls herself an expert in child development. Can you blame me for trying to stab her? My other option was to do what Joey Santos did. Wait till you hear this. This guy’s a genius. He cut pictures out of magazines and books at home and then brought them in and tried passing them off as his own friends. Can you believe the nerve of this guy? Well, I hope he enjoyed his fame while it lasted. As soon as Abe Kramer recognized some of the same pictures in one of his mom’s magazines, and the rest of the kids caught wind of this… well let’s just say he’s not going to be making collages anytime in the near future.
They’re thinking of replacing Tony (my sponsor) soon anyhow. After our last session I saw him talking to my mom and rubbing his forehead like he just found out he had kidney failure. I thought he’d be able to handle the name that I called him, but apparently not. Apparently, the only thing that Tony can handle is “holding two jobs” so that he can stay in “graduate school”. Apparently being my “sponsor” isn’t exactly fitting into his delusions of grandeur. Sorry shit brick.
I will admit that I am a little bit concerned about this new gem that they got me lined up with. I guess he doesn’t exactly consider himself a sponsor, like Tony does. Apparently this guys real hot to trot to try and mold me into what he calls a “model cadet”. His cheeks turn red when he talks to my parents and sweat begins to form around his eyebrows when my parents tell him about the name that I call Tony. Oh and get this gents, this time I’ve got to pack a duffel bag to go to this little program they got me lined up with. Word around the campfire is that I’ve got to sleep over there when I go. I just hope they let me bring my Batman cards. Oh, and if they give me any flack about spending the night in the same sleeping bag with one of my buddies, well let’s just say I’ve been known to be quite handy with a pair of scissors. I’ll keep you posted.
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Brandon Murphy was born and raised in New York and New Orleans. He is a writer and artist. Brandon lives and works in New York and New Orleans. Some of his work can be accessed on www.brandonmurphy.net. He may be contacted here.
© 2005 Me Three
