Tim cried out as he tried to grab the can from Dick. He lunged over the sofa and almost had his hand on it when Dick began squirting. "Don't do it, man! Whatever you're going through, we can help you through it!" Dick swallowed the mouth full of cheese. "Straight cheese? That's WRONG!"



"I'm outta crackers!"


"It's a week till pay day!" Dick squirted more processed cheese food into his stomach.

Tim dug into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Here. Buy a hamburger. Buy something, man. Just don't do that. It's sad, and it's sick, and it's wrong."

"Is Timmy scared of cheese in a can?"

Tim crumpled the bill up and threw it at Dick's head. "I fear nothing. And it's TIM."

"Timmy, Timmy. Timmy, TIMMY! TIMMMMMYYY!!"

Tim punched Dick arm. Well, he tried to. As he swung, Dick slid out of the way, and Tim nearly threw his arm out punching at air. "Jerkwad."


Tim folded his arms over his chest. "I'm going to tell your girlfriend you can't budget for a two-week pay period."

"I'll tell your girlfriend you're scared of cheese."

"First of all, that isn't cheese. That's pasteurized cheese food in a can. And second of all, my girlfriend wont believe that. However, your girlfriend WILL believe that you can't budget."

Dick sucked on the nozzle of the can. "What will it cost me to keep this quiet."

"You can't afford me, Dickster."

"I'm willing to kill you to keep this quiet."

"I'm gonna tell Alfred, and Bruce, and Huntress, and. OWW!" Dick had dropped the can on the couch and put Tim in a head lock and was viciously grinding his knuckles into the boy's skull. "I'm going to put a memo out at your precinct!"

Dick smashed his fist against Tim's head, rapping on his skull. "No you're not, Timmy. Cause if you do. I'll make you say it."

"You can't make me say it."

"I've made you say it fifteen times since Christmas."

Trying to get out of the head lock, Tim protested. "You wont make me say it again! And if you do, I'll tell."

A second later, Tim was pinned to the carpet. "Say it."

"I'm not saying it!"

"Who's the best Robin!? SAY IT!" Dick ground his knee into the boy's stomach. "WHO'S THE BEST ROBIN! WHO'S THE MASTER!?"

Tim groaned, unable to breathe. A choking voice gurgled out: "Not. saying.it."

Dick bounced up and down on Tim's midsection a bit to inspire him. "Come on. TIMMY. WHO'S THE BEST ROBIN?!"

"Ugg. Not saying." Tim's hand creaped towards the couch cushions.

"Then you're going to have some internal bleeding, Timmy. Who's the Master?"

Tim realized that Dick was right. His hand grasped the can and he shoved the nozzle still glistening with Dick's spit up his nose and pressed down on it, hard.

* * *

"So. Batman. If it's OK with you. I'm going to stick around in Bludhaven tonight, and run Nightwing's patrol route for him."

Batman glared at Robin through the monitor. "And WHY wont Nightwing be running his regular route this evening?"

Robin scratched his head. "Um. well, he isn't feeling too well."

"Is he ill?"

"Not exactly." Tim looked from side to side, trying to find an escape, or an explanation. "He's sort of just got home from the emergency room."

"Robin," Batman said with authority. "Report."

"Ok, so we were goofing around." Robin winced, seeing 'the look' from Batman. "Ok, So, we had to go get seven ounces of cheese extracted from his nasal cavity and his nose keeps bleeding now, and his face is really sore. So. um. I'm gonna watch Bludhaven tonight."

Batman sighed and shook his head. "Then I suppose you now consider it even for him getting a goldfish lodged in your ear?"

"Um. yessir." Wincing, Tim closed the connection. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he WOULD have to call it even for that. "Life is so not fair."