Standard disclaimers apply.
There's Nothing Funny About Spam
"And then…" Bart continued, taking in a deep breath "…Batgirl stole the
"ALL the Spam?" Max questioned critically, looking at his empty cupboard.
His eyebrow turned upward as he stared down at his protégé.
Looking up with wide golden eyes, Bart nodded, his oversized hair bobbing
back and forth in the process.
Max was still incredulous. "Batgirl stole my Spam."
Again with the nodding and the eyes.
"What does Batgirl need Spam for?" he knew he shouldn't have let those two
hang out together. He was also certain that Bart had somehow gotten the
idea into the girl's head.
Bart shrugged, still with the eyes.
"Bart, what is she using the Spam for?" Max knew he wasn't telling the
entire truth. No one's eyes were THAT innocent looking.
"She says it's the weapon of choice."
Max buried his head in his hands. "You go to Gotham. RIGHT NOW. And you get
the Spam back. Before she hurts someone." He couldn't even fathom what
someone who'd trained as an assassin could do with softball sized cans of
Again with the nodding and big eyes.
"Bart… NOW!" Max sighed as a haze of red and white shot out of the kitchen.
* * *
Spoiler shook her fists at the cloaked figure standing on the roof above
her bedroom window. "You've got issues!" This was like the fifth time this
week. Two slimy raw chickens, one slimy raw chicken that was a day old, and
a frozen grouse, now SPAM! "I'm telling Oracle! I'm telling Robin! I'm
telling EVERYBODY!" What was Batgirl's damage anyways?
Batgirl's head tilted back in a laugh. She pointed at Spoiler, watching the
girl push the bucket worth of cold, mushed up Spam off of her. "Is fun!"
"It isn't fun! And it isn't funny either." Batman really needed to
reevaluate where he got partners from.
There was a rush in the air, a sudden breeze that tore through the grass.
"Batgirl, MaxsaidyouhavetoreturntheSpam…" Slowing down, Bart noted Spoiler.
"Oh. Well, it's going to be REAL hard to put back in the cans now. But we
gotta. Max said--"
"Who ARE you?" Spoiler asked impatiently, scraping smelly Spam off of her
"I'm Batgirl's boyfriend-friend type person who's a boy. And she stole
"YOU have a BOYFRIEND?" Then she examined the little Imp. "Never mind. You
two are made for each other." Picking her head up high, she sat herself up
on her ledge, then ducked inside her room. She wasn't going to let them get
to her. That's what Batgirl wanted, right? That's what this whole chicken
thing was about.
Bart looked at the twenty-five cans worth of Spam laying on the lawn. "Um…
Max said we're not allowed to use Spam for evil any more," he informed her.
"Wasn't evil. Was fun," Batgirl pointed out, starting to laugh. Half a
second later, she was choking, holding her sides and quaking.
"Come on," Bart urged. "If we're not good, Max won't let me see you any
more. And then he'll tell Batman, and Batman will eat me."
Batgirl continued laughing through Bart's entire diatribe of concern. Her
knees gave out and her backside hit the roof, and she slid off, still
unable to stop. Landing face, first in the pile of orange squishy Spam,
however, her laughter ceased. She picked her head up and wiped some yellow
gelatin from her cowl. "Is evil AND funny," she confirmed.
Bart bit his lip, wondering if this made HIM the mature one.