Bale-inator [ #Wattys2017 ]

Chapter Four

Before we knew it, Christian Bale stopped. He just stood there and stopped. He turned to face us, a spark of hope shining in his chocolatey brown eyes. We both stood there completely confused.He pranced to the center of the rooftop, imagining that a spotlight was shining on him.

"What is he doing?" Blackley asked, prodding Everard extremely hard in her shoulder. She shrugged, watching as the actor cleared his throat.

"I think it's a soliloquy."

"O all you host of heaven!" he began, looking towards the sky. "O Gotham! what else?
And shall I couple hell? O, fie! — Hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up. — Remember thee!
Ay, my poor soul, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted City. Remember thee, for these women have deceived me!" The girls stared blankly, unsure of how they should react to his statement.

"Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records of my past,
All saws of the well, my parents, an old arrowhead,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with my fears: yes, by heaven! —
O most pernicious Catwoman!
O Joker, Joker, smiling, damned Joker!
My tables, — meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a Joker;
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Wayne Manor."

"What's wrong with this guy?" Everard asked, puzzled. Blackley awkwardly clapped, a fake smile plastered across her face.

"Does he think he's Hamlet, or something?"

"I think he thinks he's Batman."

(A Batlet! Or a Hamman...)