It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.

August 30, 2004

The Batcave

We've already established that I'm on the low-end of the spectrum as far as superheroes go, in terms of prestige and resources. I'm not a playboy billionaire or an alien masquerading as a human being for shits and giggles - I actually have a day job to pay the bills, not as a front. It should come as no surprise to any of the three people reading this blog that my secret headquarters is pretty fucking low-rent.

I have a two-story house in one of the working class neighborhoods in Evergreen City. It's a split level rambler built in 1961 and it has a retro charm to it - reminds me of the Brady Bunch house. I dig that aesthetic, so the inside is decorated with vintage wallpaper and furniture that I picked up at second-hand stores and garage sales. None of that IKEA shit for me, thanks. My latest find is this kick-ass 50’s starbust motif clock --

I just realized what I was writing. Look, I'm not gay, OK? Plenty of straight bachelors out there are interested in interior design and kitschy retro stuff. Yeah, I listen to Martin Denny and Esquivel and I like bowling shoes. At least I don't have a Vespa. Lay off.

The point of this whole post was to talk about my Batcave. I suddenly don't want to talk about it.

God damn you Kestrel.

No comments: