once again, clicking on the covers will access full-size images
Starring:
?? as Edmond Curse
Judy Strangis as Harley Quinn
TwoF as himself
The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! as some odd circus funhouse reflection of itself
(oder: Die Fledermausmädchen Fledermausefalle als seine schlechten Selbst "doppelganger")
Special guests: Jim Henson’s Muppets as Barbara’s “Furry” delusion
With the triumphant return of: Monty Python’s Flying Circus as A Group of Batgirl’s Biggest Fans
Announcer: Last episode we saw how Harley Quinn had based her latest crime spree on the fan-fiction writings of a website, The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! Now, we join Batgirl as she is about to be pushed head over heels into love with Barbara Gordon’s Batgirl-obsessed next-door neighbor! Is Batgirl to play Juliet to this ridiculous Romeo? Holy Box of Bitter Chocolates! Don’t get your heartstrings in a tangle, Dear Reader! Happy endings have been rescued from situations more dire than this!
I.
Harley Quinn danced joyously around the glassed-in enclosures in which Batgirl and Edmond Curse were trapped. She sang as she danced, belting out the “Matchmaker Song” from Fiddler on the Roof.
“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! Send me a sign! Catch me a catch! Matchmaker, matchmaker, dum-dee-dum-dum! And make me a perr-fect match!”
Harley had the lyrics mixed up, but Batgirl didn’t care. She couldn’t care. There didn’t seem to be enough room in her thoughts for anything except the tall, slouched man in the glass box attached to hers. She stared at him adoringly. And he stared back, just as lost in her eyes as she was in his. Had she been able to think, Batgirl would have remembered how difficult it was for Edmond to make eye contact. Barbara’s shy neighbor had Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of autism, which made eye contact almost unendurable to him. But the newfound love they shared was not impeded by this condition, any more than it was impeded by the wall of glass which held them apart. They stared at each other. The moment seemed to go on forever.
But reality intruded, in the form of a cackling Harley Quinn. Harley could see how well her “love potion” had worked. If possible, Quinn was even happier than the lovebirds she had created, although it was a very different kind of happiness.
“Isn’t it delicious, Batgirl?” Harley laughed. “You’re madly in love with the most ridiculous of all your geek-boy fans!”
Suddenly the scene before us changes as, once again, our story is rudely and inexplicably interrupted.
Cut to: A group of Batgirl’s Biggest Fans. They are still dressed as Vikings. They stare into the camera quite seriously.
First Viking (John Cleese): Batgirl would never love this man.
Second (Eric Idle): Terribly out-of-character.
Third (Michael Palin): Even with a so-called Love Potion.
Fourth (Terry Jones): It’s insulting to the Loyal Readership.
Fifth (Graham Chapman): Indeed! It is only I whom she loves!
Sixth (Terry Gilliam): Meanwhile, back in our story....
Cut to: Harley is looking at her watch and periodically glaring at the camera. She gets her cue and falls back into character.
Harley didn’t seem to care that she was breaking the rules of our narrative form as she looked into the camera and directly addressed the Loyal Readership.
“I gotta apologize for that, guys. I won’t do it any more. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Harley Quinn winked at the camera, then turned back to the situation at hand, in which Batgirl and Edmond were still wholly oblivious to the world around them.
“I hate to spoil this greeting card moment, Batgirl,” said Harley, “but I have to take your Lover Doll away now. Don’t worry about him; I won’t hurt him. He’ll happily go back to making creepy pictures of Batgirl in her traps. But you, you’re stuck in my love-trap, Batgirl! Ever felt the sting of unrequited love?” Harley laughed a mean, unpleasant laugh. “You’re gonna eat your heart out, Batgirl. You’re gonna have tons of fun! And all because of Mr. Goofus Doofus, here!”
Batgirl watched in helpless horror as Harley Quinn dragged away her beloved Edmond, whistling the love theme to Romeo and Juliet as she went. Poor Batgirl screamed and pounded on the glass.
“Edmond! No! Bring him back, Harley! Edmond!!!”
But they were gone, and Batgirl felt like Harley had torn away her reason for continuing to live. She felt empty inside. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Batgirl hardly noticed when the glass door to her boxlike enclosure opened by itself.
II.
Somehow she had found her way home. There was little point in trying to chase Harley. Batgirl couldn’t think straight. All she could think of was, of course, Edmond Curse, whom she hardly knew. And Harley, certainly, thought Batgirl knew even less about Edmond. But Barbara Gordon knew where Edmond lived, so she gravitated back to their apartment building. Barbara quickly changed out of costume, donning one of her favorite yellow dresses. She took a moment to check her face in the mirror, but only managed to force herself to make cursory improvements to her hair and makeup before she rushed out into the hall and ran to Edmond’s door.
‘Maybe she brought him back’, thought Barbara, as she pounded on the door. No one answered. Edmond was not there. It was terrible! She wanted to cry again.
Barbara jiggled the doorknob and found that the apartment was unlocked. Only for a moment did she hesitate about intruding into Edmond’s quarters. He was her beloved, she decided, and she needed to see whether his apartment contained any clues that might help her rescue him. Yes, that was it. She had every right to enter his living space.
The apartment’s layout was a mirror-image of Barbara’s own, aside from the fact that the bedroom was a bit larger. Presumably, Barbara’s bedroom was smaller due to her mysterious Batgirl nook, the hidden room which served as the heroine’s base of operations. Edmond’s apartment smelled like coffee and stale pipe smoke. Books, notebooks, sketchbooks, and creative projects in various states of completion cluttered the rooms. Barbara had never seen so many pictures of Batgirl in one place - except, perhaps, at The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! Edmond truly was obsessed. The rooms were cluttered, but it was clear that everything was actually carefully structured. Stacks of books were all grouped by shared subject. Paintings and pictures were, likewise, grouped by common themes. Edmond was indecorous, but he was also highly organized, both orderly and disorderly at the same time.
Barbara did find a clue, of sorts. Harley had apparently anticipated Batgirl paying a visit to Edmond’s apartment. A photo of Edmond, with a red heart drawn around his face, sat next to an unkind note from Harley Quinn. The note revealed something useful, at least. Barbara learned from it that Harley was Edmond’s mysterious benefactor, the woman who was paying him to live in Gotham and produce Batgirl artwork.
‘Poor, dear Edmond,’ she thought. ‘He’s been a pawn in Harley’s cruel game.’ Barbara hated Harley Quinn more than she had ever thought she could hate anyone. She hated Harley just as much as she loved Edmond. But she knew Harley much better than she knew Edmond. Quinn was dangerous. Edmond had to be rescued, as soon as possible. Batgirl needed to rescue him. She needed a plan, but she couldn’t seem to think straight. Every thought went in circles, always leading back to Edmond.
Barbara took the photograph and the note with her when she stole out of the apartment. She hugged the photograph close to herself.
III.
Batman was still preoccupied with trying to puzzle out the string of crimes which had beset Gotham for the past week. Batgirl had not told him of her findings before she had rushed off to confront Harley. Batman and his allies were a loose-knit band, without any organized methods for sharing information. So the head of the Bat-pantheon was left groping along, still trying to piece together a solution to the mystery of the recent crimewave.
But Batman, in spite of all his drive and intelligence, all of his tools and resources, had not managed to duplicate Batgirl’s work on this case. He didn’t know about The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! It was not the sort of thing upon which he might happen accidentally, as Barbara Gordon had. Batman had analyzed the information about the recent crime spree in every way imaginable. There were no clear patterns. Currently, he was leaning toward a variant on Commissioner Gordon’s hypothesis, suspecting a confederation of Bat-foes, led by a new criminal mastermind, a super-genius, an Anti-Batman. The idea was both disturbing and a bit exciting to Batman. So many of his foes seemed unchallenging and predictable, these days. Facing off against an Anti-Batman would be a refreshing challenge, like a game of chess against a brilliant opponent.
Batman was surprised when the Batgirlcycle suddenly screeched into the Batcave. Such a surprise visit from Batgirl was almost unprecedented. Batgirl had barely brought her vehicle to a halt when she ran over to him and began babbling breathlessly. It took him a moment to sort out what she was trying to tell him.
“So Harley Quinn is behind these crimes?” Batman was a bit disappointed. Harley was no supergenius; certainly not an Anti-Batman.
“She’s borrowed her schemes from a website, called The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! And she’s taken Edmond away, Batman! I-I can’t think of how to save him! You must help me save Edmond!”
Batman looked closely at Batgirl. She was panicking. He studied her complexion, tried to get a good look at her eyes. He nodded his head to himself and stood up to retrieve some medical equipment. He needed to check her pulse, hopefully get a blood sample.
“Tell me, Batgirl,” he said, pulling out a stethoscope, which Batgirl eyed suspiciously, “did Harley do anything to you when you encountered her?”
She gave him a hurried, muddled outline of what had happened. Batman nodded to himself again. He was certain of his conclusion, even without a test. Batgirl showed all of the characteristic symptoms.
“Batgirl, you know of Harley Quinn’s association with Poison Ivy. I think Harley has used one of Ivy’s mind toxins on you. That’s her ‘love potion.’ I can help you, but it will take some time. Why don’t you let me examine you, then have Alfred show you to a guest bedroom, upstairs? You need to rest.”
Batgirl panicked. “There’s no time for that, Batman! Harley has Edmond! We need to save him!”
“We will, Batgirl. First things first. He needs this antidote as much as you do. You’ll see things more clearly once the toxin is out of your system. Then we can go after Harley.”
“No!” Batgirl was completely irrational, out of control. She sobbed, “We need to help him right now!” Before Batman could react, she had run back to her Batgirlcycle.
“If you won’t help him, Batman, I’ll do it myself, somehow!” But she had no idea how. She couldn’t seem to think straight.
Batman cursed himself as she began to zip away. He grabbed something from his utility belt and threw it at the departing Batgirlcycle. The magnetic tracking device landed on her rear fender and stuck. He would at least be able to know where she was going.
He worked as quickly as he could, setting up the equipment to prepare a batch of antidote. He wasn’t sure of the exact composition of this new variant of the toxin, but hoped it had enough in common with those he’d seen before that his antidote would work. But preparing the antidote would take time and would require his careful attention throughout much of the process.
He was able to step away from his chemistry lab while certain components were being distilled. He checked on Batgirl’s whereabouts, finding that she had returned home, to Barbara Gordon’s apartment. ‘Good,’ he thought. She shouldn’t be running around like this. Batgirl was a potential danger to herself and others, in such an irrational state. And she knew too many of Batman’s own secrets for him to risk having her in public while under the toxin’s influence. He would have to remain aware of where she was.
He also looked into the website she had mentioned. Batman was fascinated, amused, and a bit disturbed by it. ‘People are strange,’ he decided, but The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! seemed harmless enough. The writers’ views about the private lives of Gotham’s heroes particularly amused him. ‘Very imaginative,’ he noted, ‘but not terribly accurate.’
Finally, he looked into the background of Edmond Curse, object of Batgirl’s toxin-generated obsession. Edmond, he found, was connected to The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! having contributed images and stories under a pseudonym. It was an easy trail to follow. Edmond’s pseudonym was the same as his e-mail address. He wasn’t trying to hide his identity. Batman felt sorry for Edmond, and for Batgirl. Harley had tied them together in a cruel plot, indeed. He sighed, contemplating the sad complexity of people’s lives, and turned back to his chemical preparations.
IV.
Barbara Gordon was a mess. In the day since she had visited Batman, she’d gone into complete collapse. Harley’s potion had lodged an obsession with Edmond in the very center of her mind, where it completely blocked any other thought. Everything led back to Edmond. And not only her thoughts were affected. Barbara alternated between giddy excitement and crushing despair when she thought of her lost love. Caught between the obsession itself and the immobility created by that obsession, Barbara was tormented. She couldn’t bear to look at her mask, much less don it. She didn’t want to eat. She couldn’t seem to sleep. She had ended up collapsing into a happy fantasy of an imagined life with Edmond, where the distresses of her real-life situation could not reach her.
Barbara had a life-long love of animals. Her apartment lease only allowed her a pet bird, Charlie the Parrot. Otherwise, she might have populated her life with any number of animal companions. This love of small creatures became manifest in the lovesick fantasies into which she had withdrawn.
She imagined herself as a spunky, little guinea pig in overalls, a fantasy self she had enjoyed playing as a child. Edmond was an otter. Barbara the Guinea Pig and Edmond the Otter lived happy, carefree lives, together in their home in the hollow oak tree in the Great Forest, where all of the animals lived in perfect harmony.
They spent their long, joyous days frolicking beneath the trees or, sometimes, visiting the Big River, where they might have a picnic or go boating. Or visit their friend Batgirl who, being a beaver, lived near the water. Barbara was concerned that Beaver Batgirl might have designs on dear Otter Edmond’s affections, however, so they did not visit their beaver friend very often.
Oh, the fun they had! Barbara’s fantasies moved her to tears, in her love potion-addled state.
On one particular day, however, something terrible happened. Barbara was busily tidying their neat, little oak tree home, cleaning up the stacks of books and notebooks that Edmond always seemed to leave lying about. Otters were like that, Barbara supposed. They were not as concerned about tidiness as were guinea pigs. So Barbara the Guinea Pig was tidying. She did not hold this against dear Edmond the Otter. It was something she loved about him. There was nothing about Edmond which Barbara did not simply adore.
But, on this particular day, there was an unexpected knocking at the door of the hollow oak tree. Barbara asked dear Edmond to answer the door.
“Edmond, dear, would you get that?” She was busy, busy, busy. But happy, too.
Edmond did not answer, however, and the knocking continued. Barbara called again, but there was no response. She rushed through their cute, little home, searching for her beloved otter.
He was nowhere to be found. It was a terrible thing! And still the knocking continued. Almost in a panic, Barbara went to the door.
“Who is it? Who’s knocking?” she asked.
“It’s Bruce, Barbara,” came the reply. “Let me in. You need help.”
Barbara the Guinea Pig wasn’t sure about Bruce. She thought maybe he was a bat. She stood at the door, wondering whether a guinea pig should let a bat into her tidy home. Bruce kept knocking.
“Barbara, I know you’re in there. I can hear you. If you won’t open the door, I’ll find another way. You know that. Let me help you.”
Barbara didn’t like the sound of that. Maybe Bruce wasn’t a bat, after all. Perhaps he was a Big, Bad Wolf.
“Are you a wolf, Bruce?”
“I’m a friend, Barbara. Please let me in.”
“Have you seen Edmond? I can’t seem to find Edmond.”
“I’m here to help Edmond, too, Barbara. Please open your door.” Bruce sounded nice enough, Barbara decided. And anyone who was going to help Edmond deserved to be let in. She opened the door.
“Hello, Bruce,” she said. “Where’s Edmond?” She noted cheerfully that Bruce was a bat, after all. Barbara giggled and stood on tiptoes, trying to see if Edmond was hiding behind Bruce. Edmond was like that, sometimes. He liked to hide. It was an otter thing. Edmond was ottertistic. She knew that. She loved that about him.
Bruce Wayne was shocked to see how badly Barbara had been affected by the toxin in just one day. He’d had to synthesize a new batch of antidote, at least enough for Barbara and Edmond, before he could help her. As he looked at her now, Bruce cursed himself for having taken so long. Poison Ivy’s toxins produced a kind of dementia, and Barbara was obviously hallucinating. She was lost in a world of her own. Bruce hoped the antidote he’d prepared was strong enough to bring her back out of it. He had Barbara sit down.
“Barbara, you’ve been affected by one of Poison Ivy’s mind toxins. Do you understand?”
“Is she a snake?” Barbara looked concerned about the idea.
“You could say that,” said Bruce. “But I’m going to help you, Barbara.”
“Help me find Edmond?”
“Yes. Why don’t you close your eyes, Barbara, and tell me about Edmond.”
Barbara did as instructed and began babbling about Edmond the Otter and his ottertistic ways. Bruce regarded her sadly as he prepared a syringe-full of antidote.
Barbara did not respond well to the surprise injection. She squeaked in alarm and ran to huddle in the corner.
“You bit me! Bruce the Bat bit me in my own home! You wouldn’t do that if Edmond were here!”
“Barbara,” sighed Bruce, “you need to come back to reality. Please listen to me, and try to calm down. Harley Quinn has your friend, Edmond. We need to find them both so we can help him."
“Harley Quinn is a rat,” declared Barbara.
“Yes, I suppose she is.” Bruce tried not to sound amused. “Will you come out of the corner, Barbara?”
“How can we find Edmond?”
“We can’t, until you’re well. Come here and sit down, and you’ll get well faster.”
Barbara eyed Bruce suspiciously, but seated herself on the sofa.
The antidote took almost an hour to bring Barbara back to her senses. It was a harrowing period, for Bruce. He wasn’t sure the antidote would be adequate, and Barbara continued to voice her delusions the whole time, becoming increasingly hysterical as the antidote slowly pulled her out of her fantasy. She was sobbing in Bruce’s arms when she finally came back to reality.
“Oh, Bruce,” sniffed Barbara, “Thank you. I don’t know what I’ve been saying. I thought I was a guinea pig.”
“You were, in a sense. Harley Quinn has used you as a guinea pig for a new variation on the mind toxins we’ve encountered before. Now, do you think you’re well enough to help your friend, Barbara?”
“Yes, I am. And Batgirl is going to do this alone. Harley’s going to regret what she’s done.”
“Vengefulness doesn’t suit you, Barbara,” said Bruce, quietly.
“Says a man whose whole life is shaped by a desire for vengeance!” It was a cruel thing to say. Barbara may have been free of the toxin, but she still was not being altogether rational. Barbara was almost surprised with herself. Perhaps she was upset because, in contrast with TwoF’s glowing praise [See last issue! - Intrusive Editor] about [That last braketed aside was actually intrusively inserted by the author. – Wonderful, Helpful Editor] Batgirl’s [Actually, so was that one. – This is getting annoying now, right?] Batgirl’s [Sorry. Take 2!] Perhaps she was upset because, in contrast with TwoF’s glowing praise about Batgirl’s self-reliance, she had been rescued from Harley’s trap by Batman. Maybe Batgirl was not a damsel-in-distress, but sometimes she did need help from her friends.
“Barbara, I will stand back and let you try it yourself. I can see how that might be important to you. But you need to control yourself. Remember who you are and what you stand for. Don’t let your anger make you as bad as your foes.” Bruce remembered a recent discussion with the Scarecrow, about these same points.
“Bruce, it’s horrible, what she’s done. Not just to me, but to poor Edmond.”
“That’s it, Barbara; focus on Edmond, not Harley. Turn your anger into something that can help him. I’ll stand back. But if it looks like Harley might be getting the upper hand, or if Batgirl needs help - any kind of help at all....”
“I won’t, thank you very much. And don’t think I can’t lose a tail. I have to get ready now, Bruce.”
Bruce nodded and left. He understood Barbara’s anger. Batman had been subjected to mind control and emotional manipulations several times in his career. Such loss of self-control was a humiliating experience, which could easily lead to dangerous rage. But he’d never seen Barbara Gordon so obviously full of hate. Harley had touched something inside of Barbara which was terribly painful. Bruce wondered what that might be, as he made his way back to the Batcave.
V.
A television commercial. We see a tight closeup on a mouse, scurrying around on a linoleum floor. A jarring chord sounds. Clearly, this is one sinister mouse! This image is replaced by that of a stereotypical housewife, in apron, standing on a chair.
“Eek! A mouse!” The Frightened Woman overacts her fear of the mouse. “Won’t anyone save me from these pesky rodents?”
Suddenly, there is a swell of heroic music. Cupid, with a bow and arrow, inexplicably appears before the woman. Cupid is a cheaply-animated cartoon overlay.
“Cupid to the rescue!” Cupid has a deep, manly voice, which contrasts humorously with his cherubic appearance. Cupid aims his bow and releases his arrows. Twang! As they leave his bow, the arrows turn into mousetraps, which surround the offending mouse. The mouse immediately explores the traps, intrigued.
We see Cupid smiling at the Frightened Woman. The sound of several mousetraps being set off is suddenly heard, together with a high-pitched squeak.
“No more mice! Mice LOVE Cupid brand Mousetraps(TM)!” Cupid’s voice booms.
“Thanks, Cupid! You’re a regular flying mousetrap!” The Formerly Frightened Woman beams.
Cupid winks at the camera. “Mice got you down? Not when Cupid’s in town!”
It had not been a terribly effective advertisement, but it had been memorable simply for being downright bizarre. Batgirl remembered it immediately when she reviewed her list of Harley Quinn’s likely hideout locations. On that list was the disused warehouse of the defunct Cupid Mousetrap company. There was no way Harley could pass that up. It was the only hideout she could have chosen, given her current schemes.
“You’re a regular flying mousetrap,” laughed Batgirl. A flying mouse was a bat. Indeed, the German for bat was fledermaus; literally, flying mouse. What is a flying mouse trap? A bat-trap! And Harley had said: “Just think of me as your playful Cupid, fluttering around in a diaper.” Cupid, the flying mouse trap.
Batgirl, die Fledermausmädchen, left immediately for the Cupid warehouse, only vaguely concerned that Harley’s insanity made so much sense to her.
VI.
Harley Quinn had missed the main fight. Batgirl had ambushed her thugs and dispatched them as readily as she had when she’d confronted Harley before. Quinn didn’t seem to be taking this very seriously. She’d hired third-rate henchmen, then left them playing cards, without a lookout.
’She must have real faith in her love potion,’ thought Batgirl. ‘She thinks I’m still under her spell.’
A room was lit, at the back of the warehouse. Batgirl peeked through the door. She gasped at what she saw inside.
Edmond was happily painting pictures of Batgirl. There were sketches and paintings lying around the room. Harley was standing back, studying the current work-in-progress, playing art critic.
“No, she needs more tears, Eddie-baby,” said Harley. “Think about it. She’s really upset and humiliated. Make it like one of those crying moppet pictures, with the big puppy dog eyes. You know what I mean?”
Edmond looked puzzled. He sketched something and showed it to Harley.
Harley nodded emphatically. “That’s it, exactly. More like that. ‘Cause she’s so sad.” Harley Quinn giggled as she watched Edmond go back to his brushes. “Yer a regular Rembrandt, Puddleglum.”
“Who’s Puddleglum?” Edmond was perplexed.
“You are. Keep painting. I’m payin’ you to paint, see?”
Edmond went back to painting, but voiced a complaint. “I don’t like what you did to Batgirl,” he said. His voice lacked affect; his tones were flat when he spoke. He had been like that when Barbara had talked to him, as well.
Harley seemed incredulous. “Why not? It’s somethin’ right outta your sketchbooks, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t want to see it made real,” was Edmond’s mumbled protest.
Harley was just plain exasperated. “You Bat-Trap guys are nutso, you know that? You can’t decide whether to worship Batgirl or thrill at watching her squirm! Well, I’m payin’ you to draw her squirming! So quitcher bellyachin’!”
“You didn’t tell me it was going to be like this,” said Edmond, uncomfortably.
“You didn’t ask, did you? I waved a check at you, and you came running! There’s more checks, don’t worry. But if you really want out, Sugar, that can be arranged.” Harley’s smile was harsh, dangerous. Edmond didn’t notice the danger in her face, however. He watched Harley’s feet until she stopped talking, then turned back to his painting.
Batgirl had seen enough. She stepped into the room and struck a bold pose, hands on hips.
“All right, Harley. Enough’s enough.”
Harley did a comical double-take. “Hey, Romeo,” she called to Edmond, “it’s Juliet, herself!”
Harley leaped at Edmond and grabbed him, holding him in front of herself like a shield. Batgirl jumped after her, but stopped once Harley seized Edmond. Edmond looked terribly uncomfortable. He didn’t like to be in close contact with other people, especially not Harley Quinn.
“Whaddaya think of ol’ loverboy’s pictures, Batgirl? Me, I don’t know art, but I know what I like!”
“I’ve seen their like before. You’re a rotten human being, Harley Quinn.”
Harley was surprised and defensive. “Don’t blame me! I didn’t paint them!”
“Those are just pictures to Edmond, Harley. You want them to be real. Can’t you see the difference?”
Harley changed the subject. “She knows your name, Eddie-baby. I think she likes you.” Edmond blushed.
All at once, Harley threw a smoke pellet toward Batgirl, where it burst at the heroine’s feet. The room was obscured from her view. She jumped through the cloud of smoke, but Harley had already made her escape. There was a back entrance to the room. Batgirl ran through the door and found herself in a darkened maze of offices. Harley could be hiding anywhere among them. Batgirl wanted to kick herself.
‘You like to talk too much,’ she accused herself. ‘Your chatty habits keep landing you in trouble.’
She quickly explored the offices, but even her hurried efforts took some time. She didn’t find Harley among them. Finally, Batgirl came to a door which exited back into the main warehouse.
A shock greeted her on the other side. Harley stood, cackling, next to a giant mousetrap. Edmond, poor Edmond, was tied to the trap.
“They say it’s better to have lost in love than never to have loved at all, Batgirl. Wanna find out?” Harley’s hand was on the lever which would release the trap, leaving Edmond in a very bad way.
“Harley, you monster! Let him go, now!” Batgirl was looking at the room around her for anything she could use to help her rescue Edmond. She didn’t see anything. Harley’s hand was right on the switch. She decided to risk a step forward, hoping to edge slowly toward her foe.
“Stop right there,” cried Harley. “I like Eddie too, Batgirl. He’s got this goofy charm. But I’m his boss, y’see, and I say ‘do or die.’ And he’s done!”
“Harley, before you say anything, will you let me ask Edmond a question?”
Harley rolled her eyes. “Sure, whatever. You like to talk, Batgirl. Blah, blah, blah.” Harley took her hand away from the lever and made little yakkety-yak hand puppets, clapping her fingers and thumb together like a blabbing mouth.
“Edmond, why hasn’t Harley’s love potion affected you? Don’t you feel any different?”
Edmond was terrified about being in the trap. But he was also eager to have something to think about, which might help him block out the horror around him. He was good at that. He’d been doing it all his life. “N-no,” he stammered, his brow furrowed.
“See, he feels fine,” said Harley. Then she did another double-take and faced Edmond. “Waitaminute. Are you saying my love potion’s no good, goofball?”
“No, I-I just don’t feel any differently,” said Edmond, quietly.
“Well,” said Harley, distracted from her deathtrap, “it sure knocked Batgirl for a loop!”
“Yes,” admitted Batgirl. “It did. Thank you, Harley. I might never have seen Edmond in quite that way, otherwise. He’s special to me, now.”
“Right. But you’re saying I, like, suck, right? Why didn’t it affect you, goofball?”
“I know why, Harley,” said Batgirl.
“Yeah, well, spill it, Batgirl. What’s the trick, here?” Harley Quinn was getting worked up about the effectiveness of her potion being in question. She paced and gesticulated, stepping well away from her forgotten activation switch. In one fluid motion, Batgirl pulled a Batrope from her utility belt and lassoed Harley with it. Quinn shouted and cursed as Batgirl pulled her to the floor and ran over to tie her securely.
“The trick here, Harley, was to distract you, and you fell for it. Now, it’s really over.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Harley. “Whatever. By why didn’t my potion affect the goofball?”
Batgirl helped Edmond climb out of the trap.
“He’s not a goofball, Harley, and the answer is simple. He was already completely obsessed with Batgirl, living in a happy fantasy world of pictures and stories. Am I right, Edmond?”
Edmond blushed. “I don’t know. It’s an interesting idea. Does it work like that?” Then he nodded his head, with a serious expression. “I do like Batgirl. I like her a lot.”
Harley couldn’t endure this. She was not happy. “Batgirl’s right in front of you! You’re talking to her, you moron!”
Edmond shot a sudden, shy glance at Batgirl. His hand shot out, automatically. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.
Batgirl giggled. ‘Good old Edmond the Otter,’ she thought.
VII.
Harley had been carted away with her hoodlums. Batgirl and Edmond were alone in the warehouse. Batgirl knew Edmond would have to leave Gotham, now. Harley had been paying his bills, although he hadn’t known that. Now that she was locked up, he’d have to go back home, wherever that was. She would never have another chance to talk to him as Batgirl.
Batgirl looked at Edmond sadly. She was seeing as he was now, but also as she’d seen him while under the influence of Harley’s potion, both as Prince Charming and her ottertistic Otter. She also saw what Barbara had seen in Edmond: a sad, lonely man who could use a friend.
“I’ve seen your Batgirl artwork, Edmond, and I know about the Bat-Trap.” He looked embarrassed when she said this. He didn’t respond. “Will you let me ask you a question, Edmond?” Batgirl smiled at him, wishing he would look less unhappy. He looked at her boots and nodded.
“Why am I always trapped, in your pictures? There’s more to Batgirl than a damsel in distress.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I think... I think I identify with the idea. I’ve often felt rather trapped myself, by my whole life. Trapped and helpless.”
“That makes sense. But it’s a sad thing over which to obsess.”
Edmond nodded. “Not only that,” he said, “I’m not sure that I like Batgirl in the traps, now that I’ve actually been in a Batgirl Bat-Trap, myself. Bat-Traps are no fun. I think I like Batgirl saving the day much better.”
Batgirl laughed. It was a happy sound, without irony. Edmond seemed to recognize this. He smiled himself. Batgirl stuck out her hand for him to shake.
“Edmond Curse? Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Edmond in return, automatically.
VIII.
As she had expected, Edmond was moving away. He said he was eager to leave Gotham, now, after some of the things he’d been through. Barbara felt it was probably better for him to be leaving. Gotham City was a big, busy, crowded place, where people could not always be counted upon to be caring or kind. Edmond was naive and trusting, easy prey for unscrupulous people like Harley Quinn. She was sad to see him go, but sure it was the best arrangement for him.
In the few remaining days that Edmond had in Gotham, Barbara Gordon made a pest of herself. She thought he seemed a bit irritated with her frequent visits, sometimes, but he didn’t try to avoid her. She got to know him fairly well, she thought, in a short span of time. Just as there was more to Batgirl than a damsel in distress, so was there more to Edmond than an Aspie with a Batgirl obsession.
On his last day in Gotham , Barbara helped Edmond move. He was playing some more of his gawdawful racket on his stereo. Barbara thought it was almost unlistenable, but he seemed to find it relaxing. It was some kind of moody, swirling music, played mainly on guitars, she thought. The recording sounded like a warped tape which had been left in the sun. The music warbled and wobbled.
“What are we listening to, Edmond?”
“It’s an old album I have. The band is called My Bloody Valentine. Do you like it?”
“I think it’s an interesting selection. But why do they want to sound like that?”
“I guess it’s kind of an experimental sound. It makes me think of pictures, usually Abstract Expressionist paintings. Maybe the sound is like that.” Suddenly, he laughed.
“What’s funny, Edmond?”
“I was remembering. When I first bought this recording, I hadn’t heard the band yet. I’d only read about it. And when I got it home and listened, I was convinced that I’d been sold a bad copy. Because it sounds warped.”
“Yes, it does.” Barbara giggled, glad to be able to agree about the disconcerting sound of the recording.
“So I took it back to the shop. I think the clerk at the shop tried to make it clear to me that I simply wasn’t hep, if I was making such a mistake. That kind of thing happens to me a lot. I’m fascinated by the idea of something, but, when it comes to the actual experience, I don’t quite get it.”
“I do that, too, sometimes, Edmond.”
“I’m like this album,” he decided, “kind of warped. And my time in Gotham is a lot like that, too.” He paused, thinking. Then, he added, “The album is called Loveless.”
Barbara wondered if Edmond was sending her some kind of message. She thought about what she’d said to him when they’d first met: “Edmond, I’ve been told that you can’t count a person as a real friend unless you can get them to help you move.” She looked at the boxes they were packing. Then she looked at Edmond, and smiled.
“You’re not loveless, Edmond. I love you like a sister loves her brother. And I think Batgirl does, too. Wherever you’re going, Edmond Curse, you are not loveless, because you have friends.”
Edmond surprised her. He looked at her and managed to hold her gaze. She couldn’t tell whether his face was happy or sad, but she could tell it was thoughtful. Edmond’s eyes widened and he looked away, suddenly.
“I... love both of you, too,” he said, with some difficulty. Emotions were hard for him to understand, and harder, still, to express. “Both of you have helped me a lot. Thank you.”
Barbara thought about this as she watched him leave her life forever. Both of you. Edmond was pretty sharp, she decided, in his own way. He was an artist, and skilled at recognizing patterns. Had he recognized something, when he’d looked into her eyes? Barbara would never know, and Edmond would never tell anyone what he had seen.
END
First Viking: As a duly appointed spokesman for Batgirl’s extensive fan base, I would, once again, like to apologize for the tale to which you’ve just been subjected. Terrible, just terrible! And, before you castigate the author for his unflattering portrayal of an individual with Asperger’s Syndrome, which seems to be an altogether gratuitous element of the story, let me say this. The author wishes me to inform you that he, personally, knows Edmond Curse and Edmond has fully approved of his inclusion in this story. And now, we take you to Wembly Stadium and our ongoing coverage of the Annual All-Britain George Formby Contest, which has replaced the scheduled rebroadcast of The Avengers in this timeslot.
Editor’s Note:
Once again, we present here Edmond Curse’s very own original submission for the cover artwork for this episode. This artwork was found quite unsuitable, for obvious reasons. I mean, everyone knows Batgirl would never marry Cage . . . I mean Edmond. The fool. Yet, he is a stubborn fool and his threat of the previous episode was repeated and amplified by the assertion that he would keep saying “ni!” to us until we gave in to his demands. Rather than scrap a story after one part had already been posted, we have elected to post his artwork, which, we should point out again, was very, very thoroughly – scornfully, even scathingly - rejected, to his eternal and well-deserved humiliation. If he thinks we’ll ever let him get away with this sort of thing again, he is even more deluded than his artwork might suggest.
[Please note that the logo of this cover has been altered at the suggestion of our legal department. If you don’t know what a Fledermausmensch is, re-read Scene V and think about it (wink-wink). The Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage! loves the conglomerated corporate entities which actually hold the copyrights for these characters, and would never dream of offending by calling their Big Number Two character a cuckold, at least not to his face. So don’t sue us - sue Edmond. He deserves it. You should just hear the slanderous things he says about Denny O’Neil . . . er, Nenny O’Deil!]
