I'm Batman

Last week Lord Mattress-Hammer and I saw ‘Batman Begins’. It totally rocks.
The inevitable happened the next morning when we argued over who was Batman.
The argument went as follows: [Note that when anyone says ‘I’m Batman’ they say it in the growly voice from the movie]

h: I’m Batman.
LMH: I’m Batman.
h: No, I’m Batman.
LMH: No fuck that! I’m Batman.
[long pause]
LMH: I’m Batman
h: I’m Batman
LMH: You can be Robin. I’m Batman.
h: I can’t be Robin.
LMH: Why not?
h: I’m Batman.

Sadly the issue was unresolved that morning, as I had to go to work. The rest of the day my head was half-filled with thoughts about what to do with a delusional housemate. It was obvious that I’m Batman. The other 50% of what was in my head is private but I must confess, God bless, some impure thoughts.

Then yesterday, to make good use of a gloriously sunny day, we (That is my housemate: Lord Mattress-Hammer and me: Batman) went for a healthy manly walk along the Eastern Beaches. From Clovelly to Bondi and Back again, a Hobbit’s tale. We headed off the beaten track a couple of times, and my trail blazing lead us to what LMH was sure would lead to an impassable cliff. I assured him he was obviously completely wrong and a total coward until we got to an impassable cliff. Realising that we’d have to go all the way back, I picked a small flower.
After the three-hour walk we got back to the car. I pulled the flower from my pocket and said “I have carried this flower from the base of the cliff, all the way back to the car. … I’m Batman.” [those who’ve seen Batman Begins will know what this is about] Mattress-Hammer immediately yoinked the flower from my fingers said “I’m Batman” and threw it over his shoulder.
Dear Reader, you may think that this immense battle of wits was therefore resolved then and there, and that it was not in my favour, but lo! The knock-out blow was this morning where this most vexing of issues was solved by Lord Mattress-Hammer admitting total defeat.

Herman the Stray who lives in our backyard yowls at my bedroom window from 6am til 8am. Then he climbs in through the slatted bathroom window and runs up to my room. I take him downstairs; kick him out; and lock the bathroom door from the outside.
I had retired to bed once more when I heard Mattress-Hammer go downstairs to the bathroom.
I heard him hesitate at the locked door, not realizing it was locked from the outside not the inside.
I then heard him ask: “My guys?” and then “Batman?”

AHAHHAH!! TOTAL VICTORY! He acknowledged that I am Batman.
And it’s true. I’m Batman.

About and hour later I was about to leave for work when I noticed my shoes were squeaking. I walked into the front room, where LM-H was tooling around on his laptop. “I have the squeakiest shoes ever!” I announced. LM-H immediately leapt from his chair, ran passed me into the lounge room where we had a Squeak Off. It was like a B-boy battle but far lamer. We didn’t bust any moves of extreme funkiness and neither of us were beat-boxing. LM-H was handicapped because had to do the Twist to elicit noise from his shoes, whereas I simply had to walk.
The outcome was not in doubt.
I do have the squeakiest shoes ever.
Is there no end to my greatness?
Of course not!
And do you why?
It’s because… I’m Batman.