It was Christmas in Gotham City. Batman crawled out of a sewer covered with who knows what. He was ripe. He needed a two-day shower. He muttered, “Shit always happens on Christmas.” He knew the rules of vigilantism. Crime never takes a holiday. Crime never acknowledges the calendar. He knew that was wrong. There’s the Calendar Man.

The Batman resigned to his fate, slowly returned to the Batmobile™. He was bewildered at what he discovered. He was baffled by which was more disturbing; the Batmobile™ up on cinder blocks, wheels stolen, or his faithful partner fucking one egg after another.

Batman cleared his throat to alert Robin of his presence.

Robin jerked around quickly and blurted, “Nothing.” Three cartons of eggs fell and splattered on the ground.

“Chum, it appears that you have egg yolk all over your crotch.”

Robin’s face turned bright red. “Holy… uhm… holy…” Robin’s voice trailed off as he dropped his head in shame.

The Batman smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand as the Joker mockingly ran away from the scene in slow motion.

Batmansplain

/Bat/man/splān/

verb

to explain to someone in a manner regarded condescending and patronizing with cruel, gruff terseness

synonyms: bawl out, expound it into the ground like angry Paula Poundstone, alcoholic-dad-abuse

“The Batmansplaining session would have been more tolerable if Coach Wagner didn’t use the megaphone.”

“As he Batmansplained why I should be quiet, the cops busted us with our 40 kilo stash.”

#JamesBrownSingsLikeHe’sBatmansplaining