Q: Why do fingers turn black after death?

A: Post mortem black fingers mean one of two things:

1.) The victim died from exposure to the black plague.

2.) The Inker has escaped from Arkham Asylum.

The remains of the a fountain pen in the deceased's hand and the presence of a note by the body saying "I'm back to make crime in Gotham bold again" signed "The Inker" give credence to theory number 2, but the Black Plague is a serious matter and we'd be remiss not to examine all possibilities. After all, this is an election year.

I'll fire up the Bat Signal. You kill all the rats and poor people.

Q: Is there more energy when field mice eat spiders or when they eat oats?

A: When I began my experiments with field mice, I was sure that eating a diet of spiders would give field mice more energy than eating a diet of oats. Pretty damn sure. I must admit I entered into my hypothesis somewhat haphazardly, as I have never worked with field mice, or with a controlled experiment, or in a lab, or with other people. Most of my previous experiments had been strictly theoretical: How many rhinoceros could fit in the International Space Station? Who would win in a fight between Batman and The Scarlet Pimpernel? Could the Detroit Lions win the Super Bowl with a robot for a quarterback? That sort of thing.

Despite my lack of actual scientific expertise, I was awarded a grant and given a budget to conduct my experiments. Again, I admit I may have jumped ahead of myself a little bit. I could have started small, say with ten mice and ten spiders and one bag of oats, and see if my hypothesis proved true. I didn't start small. I bought 3 million field mice, spending most of my budget. In order to save money on the spiders, I bought a box of 7-legged tarantulas from Pakistan. I figured it wouldn't matter.

It did matter. Turns out, field mice get most of their energy from oats and very little from spiders. Turns out field mice don't eat irregular Pakistani spiders. Irregular Pakistani spiders do, however, eat field mice. At an alarming rate.

Turns out irregular Pakistani spiders get a tremendous burst of energy from eating field mice. They also develop tremendous aggression. And a tremendous appetite. And they grow. At an alarming rate.

I guess you could say my experiment was a failure. The grant board did, even after I tried to go back and change my application to say that I intended to prove that feeding spiders a diet of field mice would create an army of gigantic, blood-thirsty, super-intelligent spiders who could read minds. You know, for military use.

Didn't I mention they could read minds?

Well, they can. Don't think about killing spiders.

I've put my failed experiment behind me and I'm focused on my next project: I intend to prove that I can save the world from an army of gigantic, blood-thirsty, super-intelligent spiders who can read minds by sleeping with the Maxim Hot 100. I mailed the grant application this morning. Fingers crossed.

Q: Why generator generate high voltage?

A: The higher the voltage, the deadlier the laser. The deadlier the laser, the more Gotham I can destroy. The more Gotham I can destroy, the higher ransom I can demand. The higher ransom I demand, the more commemorative "Freedom For Iraq" plates I can buy.

Those plates are hand crafted. Those plates are one of a kind. Those plates will only increase in value.

I must have those plates. For I am the Plate Master. 

Increase the voltage! Power the laser! Prepare to fire.

Fire the laser!

I said "Fire the laser!"

You already fired it? 

Did it burn anything?

That's it? Just that flower?

Um, okay,

We're going to need more hamsters. And a bigger wheel. Maybe some scientists. 

We'll just buckle down, start over, and  -

- Did you hear that?

I swear I heard something. It sounded like a POW. Or a ZAP.

There it is again. Clearly a ZAP. Didn't you hear it, guys?

Guys?

Guys? 

Q: What does s on a camera mean?

A: It means the camera belongs to Superman. Just like that tripod, and that football, and that Pez dispenser.

No, you can't have it. This is The Fortress of Solitude, not a junk yard. For the World's Greatest Detective, you can be pretty thick sometimes.

You've been pretty slow all day, asking all those dumb questions like "What does this S mean?" and "How come that guy's in his underwear?" and "Hey Superman, how come you don't go home to Krypton no more?"

You know Superman. You know that Krypton was destroyed and Superman's parents died. You know how touchy Superman is about the destruction of Krypton and the death of his parents.

I mean, you would know, if you were the real Batman. But you're not the real Batman, are you? You're just some guy in a Batman suit wandering around trying to steal things. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

And I'm going to need you to return that Justice League ring.

Q: How do robins pick a spot to put a nest?

A: Wherever Batman tells me. He's the boss, after all, and I serve, and live, at his pleasure, as he constantly reminds me. For a while there, my "nest" as you call it, was a bed, a king sized bed, with silk sheets and soft, fluffy pillows, located in one of the nicer rooms in Wayne Manor. That was a good time. Batman was nicer then, drinking less, he laughed sometimes. Once, I caught him watching an old episode of Mama's Family. He noticed me, and changed the channel to something more suitable, a news program, a show about finance, something more fitting his stature. But I knew, and I understood. That cape and cowl weigh heavy on head. Even Batman needs a break every now and then. 

Those breaks are less frequent now.

As you might have noticed, I no longer sleep in the house, nor the back yard, nor that wonderful fort Batman built in that old tree, but here, in the cave, The Bat Cave, high on a wet rock, vermin my only friend. Batman doesn't have a lot of free time these days, which means that I don't have a lot of free time. Always on call, always ready to fight. He's more popular than ever, in print, on screen, everywhere. He hasn't slept in weeks. He's losing his grip. The other day he nearly beat the Calendar Man to death, not for any wrongdoing, but for a typo in one of his taunting notes. The Batman expects perfection from everyone, even his foes. You can imagine what he expects from me.

But, as I said, I understand. 

So I don't put up much of a fight when he asks me to sleep in the yard, or the cave, or tells me to make my nest in the center of City Hall, to keep an eye on corruption. I do whatever he tells me. All in all, as exhausting and unstable a life I lead, it still beats not being Robin. Before, when I attacked a man, society judged and shunned me. Now, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, beat whomever I want, take whatever I want, and society rewards me, strangers applaud. All I have to do is point and say "Villain" and no one asks any questions. I'd say the good far outweighs the bad.

I hope I answered your question. Now, why don't you finish that drink and take off your clothes. Batman's going to be back soon and I am not allowed to have visitors in the Cave. If you want to do it on the Batmobile, we'd better get started. 

Q: What is the most common mode of dismissal for a batsman in cricket?

A: In cricket,  a batsman is most commonly dismissed by being bowled out, being caught, or being stumped out.

The most common way to dismiss The Batman in a game of cricket would be to tie him to an enormous wicket and have a fifty-foot robotic bowler hurl a wrecking ball at him.

I'm assuming you tried that one already, since you are The Tricky Wicket, Gotham's newest arch-criminal.

You didn't try that?

What did you try?

Let me get this straight: You challenged Batman to a legitimate game of cricket, and let him pick his own team, all in the hopes that the length of the game and the complex rules would cause him to have a nervous breakdown?

And you are surprised that failed?

Did you even poison his tea or anything?

No, you just made it very weak.

Bet that showed him.

Morons like you make me long for the days of the Calendar Man. At least he had flair.

Q: When did William Howard became president?

A: There has never been a President Howard.

Nor a President Fine.

Nor a President Batman.

I've been doing a little be of research. Grandpa. Turns out those "history" books you have been giving me are nothing more than old-fashioned comic books.

I don't think I need to remind you that President Palin outlawed comic books at the start of her third term.

I don't appreciate your lies.

I know which way I'll be voting at your death panel.

Q: How long does it take for a freezing to go away?

A: You'd better chill out. It's going to be a while.

I had to put this party on ice.

Keep quiet, or I'll throw you in the cooler.

Forgive me if I don't feel bad, but I'm a little cold around the heart.

All kidding aside, can you please stop whining. I know you're cold. You're in a block of ice. That I put you in. Now, if you could just keep quiet and let me rob you in silence, I would really appreciate it.

I don't want to run out of puns before Batman gets here. That wouldn't be cool.

Q: How do you set up the outside of a letter?

A: Typically, you put the receipt's address right in the center of the envelope, in nice, big, clear handwriting.

Now, that's the whole address, not just a first name and a town. And this spot here, after the state abbreviation? That's where you put the zip codes.

If you don't know the zip code, you can look it up. It's a five digit number. Every address has one.

I see what you did here, but 5 question marks really doesn't help.

Now, up here, in the top left corner, you put the return address. This would be the sender's address. This would be your address.

Your actual address.

I'm pretty sure your address is not The Bat-Cave, Outskirts of Gotham

You don't live in the Bat-Cave.

You are not Batman. That's just a Halloween costume.

Do you think you'll be taking that off anytime soon?

No? Maybe next week.

Anyway. that's how you address a letter. Up here, in the top right corner, you would put a stamp.

Yup, right there. Right where you put all those Garfield stickers.

Garfield stickers have no monetary value. They are not acceptable postage.

So, you didn't put any stamps on the letter, you used a fake return address, and you don't know the zip code.

I think I finally understand why you didn't get any presents this year.

Santa can't bring you presents if he never gets your letters.

Better luck next year, son.

Q: Is it a conflict of interest to treat the same patient if you are both a PT and RN?

A: You're not in trouble for your work as a therapist, or a nurse. There's no problem with you treating the injuries and helping patients rehab.

The problems is with you causing the injuries.

We appreciate all the work you've done drumming up business for the hospital. All the late night muggings. All those safe dropped from the top floor. All those booby traps.

However, it has come to my attention that those activities, which have resulted in dozens of very serious, yet highly lucrative injuries, are illegal.

Highly illegal.

Batman villain level illegal.

At this time, I would like to point out that while I may have encouraged you to injure people so they would need our care, I never put anything in writing. You are the one who has done all the actual, physical damage. Your word alone will not stand up in court.

Thank you for all your hard work. Please enjoy your severance package, a carton of cigarettes. You'll probably need that where you are going.

Q: How does a container that has rice in it and is sealed shut make a noise when you shake it?

A: Batman and Robin are probably struggling to breath. There's some air in there, with all that rice.

Good question.

You ask him. I'm not going to ask him.

Okay, shoot for it. One, two, three, shoot.

Fine, I'll ask him.

Boss?

Hey, boss, why didn't you just shoot them or strangle them or stab them before you tossed them in that giant rice silo?

Oh, I guess that makes sense. No one would know it was The Rice Master who killed Batman and Robin if you just shot them. That's why I'm just the henchmen and you're the supervillain.

Hey, boss, one last thing. Why The Rice Master? I mean, you're not even Asian. You're just jaundiced and need glasses. I probably shouldn't be saying this, but have you ever considered how offensive your name and costume would be to actual Asians?

Yeah, I guess you're right. People off all countries do enjoy rice. Asians don't have any more right to it than anyone else. I didn't mean anything by it. The boys and I have been talking and we always wondered, you know?

Thanks, boss.

Hey, that noise stopped. That must mean Batman and Robin are dead.

Wait, I heard something. It sounded like "Kapow!" Did you hear it?

There's another one. It sounded like "Whamm!"

Hey, where did everybody go?

Q: What are the names of the vessel located in the villus that lines the small intestine?

A: We sent three vessels down into your bowels, The Gotham, The Metropolis, and The Kandor. As you may have already guessed, many of our scientists are big fans of comic books. That's how we came up with the names for the vessels, and with the plan itself.

We shrunk three nuclear submarines down to microscopic size, inserted them into your bloodstream and sent them to into your digestive system in the hopes that they would be able to quickly find and destroy the cancer in your colon. There's no time for surgery or chemotherapy. Our plan was your only hope.

In retrospect, we probably should have asked your permission for this wildly dangerous, experimental procedure. But you looked so peaceful in your sleep. We didn't want to wake you. Your son gave us permission. I know he's only eight, but he was all excited for us to send these vessels into your body, especially once he heard the names. I guess he's a big fan of comic books as well. He even wanted to go along, in one of the vessels, in the Kandor. We decided to let him. Who could say no to that face?

Here's where things get a little, well, a little ... funny. Your boy, excited as he was, really had no place in a nuclear submarine, shrunken down to microscopic size. It seems he went a little ... bananas down there and started pulling on levers and pressing buttons. One thing led to another and all three vessels were destroyed.

The good news is that, before your son went mad and everyone died, they found and removed your cancer. Turns out there wasn't much at all. In fact, there was so little we easily could have removed it with surgery. But, since our men were already there, we figured we'd let them handle it. They were so excited to fire those microscopic missiles.

The bad news is that we were only able to shrink the vessels for 12 hours. Even though they have been destroyed, there is still a lot of scrap metal and bits of missile and chunks of people floating around your body. They will all return to normal size, in about half an hour.

Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to go. We have to leave now and get very far away, very quickly. It has been a pleasure having you as a patient. Good-bye.

Don't bother to get up. You have been restrained.

Q: What is sentence figments?

A: They are sentences that do not exist in the book you are reading, or the movie you are watching, or the statement you are hearing, but exist solely in your own head. They are fake sentences. Not real.

When looked you up from The Scarlet Letter, with a look of befuddlement and asked, "Why doesn't Hester Prynne use her cloak of invisibility anymore?" that was a result of a sentence figment. Hester Prynne doesn't have a cloak of invisibility. You imagined it.

When you turned to me as we left a screening of The Dark Knight and said "I liked the part when Batman played space football," that was a sentence figment. At no point during that movie, nor any other Batman movie, nor any other movie, has Batman played space football. You imagined it.

When you looked at me, tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, your cheeks flush and your heart beating, and said "Yes! Yes! For the love of God, Yes! I will marry you," that was a sentence figment. I never asked you to marry me. I asked you to leave my apartment before I called the cops. We broke up two years ago. I date your sister now. I did not propose to you. You imagined it.

Seriously, stop looking for a ring. I think I have been pretty clear.

Q: What makes a thing taste sour?

A: What you taste is a very special batch of Lemonex I whipped up for this occasion.

It makes everything taste sour. Then it kills you.

It's a poison. That's why there's so much smoke coming out of this beaker.

Laugh now, but soon your face smiling face will contort into a painful, deathly grimace. Then, all of Gotham will come to fear the name of Sourpuss!

And I will finally have my revenge on Batman.

What do you mean this isn't Gotham?

My GPS clearly says this is Gotham.

Then who patrols these streets?

The police? Only the police? What fun is that?

Why are there so many red dots on my chest?

Q: Should a doctor take out stitches?

A: Look, the Joker planted that bomb in your stomach and we only have 30 seconds until it explodes, so we don't really have time to dicker over who did or did not go to medical school and who may or not be drunk.

Q: Are you ready for fly?

A: To fly.

To fly.

That's the expression. "Are you ready to fly?" You would say that and then launch the catapult.

It's a good thing they don't rate Batman villains on grammar. Or names.

Because you'd be right at the bottom, Catapult Jimmy.