Bad Odds

You know what doesn’t mix? Drinking and gambling.

You know what REALLY doesn’t mix? Drinking, gambling, and a superhero who has an ego the size of Alaska and takes it real personally when he loses.

On my 21st birthday, I went into Goleta to go to a bar to celebrate (We had bars in Isla Vista with clever names like “The Study Hall” et. al., but they were always so crowded it’d be a miracle if you could even GET to the bar to order a drink). I wound up at this little pool hall bar place. Seemed kind of dumpy, but most bars tend to in my experience.

I guess they figure that once you’re a few shades to the wind, you won’t care WHAT the place looks like.

So I’m sitting at the bar drinking throwing back some beers, just kind of soaking up the second hand smoke (I’d quit the previous year and man it was nice to at least smell even if I weren’t smoking myself), when I look at the back corner, and who should I see racking up the balls for a game of pool?

BATMAN!

I stayed there for a couple of hours, and Batman beat just about everyone who dared to challenge him to a game of pool. He always insisted that they play for money, so by the end of his night there he’d amassed quite the impressive wad of 20s. And he drank. Constantly. There was always a bottle of beer in his hand, and the second it was empty he got another one.

He was already a little buzzed by the time I got there, near as I could tell, and he just got more drunk as I watched. Of course when you’re drunk, that’s going to impair your ability to play pool, and eventually one guy actually DID manage to beat Batman, and take him for all his money.

Or so you’d think. Instead, Batman rammed the pool cue up his ass.

Sideways.

So yeah, mental note to self: Drunken, belligerent Batman is a dangerous thing.

Anyway, so last year I’m having a bit of a Super Bowl party at my place with a keg and munchies. I don’t really give a crap about the game, basically the whole thing is an excuse to get drunk and watch some really good commercials. None of us are really going to watch the game, it’s mostly on for background noise.

Well I take that back. One of my coworkers at the time brought her boyfriend (His name was Josh), and he was pretty into sports. So he was probably going to watch the game while the rest of us played the glory that is Cranium (Best. Game. EVER!).

We were just getting ready to play, when suddenly there’s a knock at the door. Who could that be? I wondered, since everyone I’d invited had already arrived. So I went to the door, and who should be standing there with a Raiders T-Shirt and a beer hat?

BATMAN!

“Hey man,” he said, “I heard you’re having a Super Bowl party.”

“No no no no no no a thousand times no!” I hissed at him. “You’re not getting in here, I know how you are. You’re going to get drunk, make a bet, and put someone in traction.”

“C’mon, I promise I’ll be good.”

“No! You’re not getting in here!”

“Are you sure? I brought guacamole.”

God damn him. I am SUCH a sucker for guacamole.

“Alright, you’re in. BUT! No. DRINKING!” I said as I ripped the beer hat off his head. “And no betting!”

“You have my word on it,” he said as he slipped through the doorway and made his way to the couch.

“Oh hey, cool! You’re that bat guy that Mike’s always talking about!” I heard Josh say as I went back into the kitchen to let everyone know that Batman had arrived.

Man, I needed a drink though. So I went back out to the living room to go out onto the patio to get some beer out of the keg, and– what the hell?! The keg is empty! “What happened to all the BEER?!” I shrieked.

“Oh yeah, that was me,” called Batman.

“How the hell did you drink all that beer in 30 seconds?! It’s not humanly possible!”

He gave me a stern, earnest look, and said simply, “I’m Batman.”

I sighed in resignation and went back into the kitchen to join everyone else. “20 bucks on the Raiders,” I heard Batman say as I left.

“You’re on, replied Josh.”

God damn, everything was going to hell in one heck of a big hurry.

Actually, for most of the game everything was fine. I was really antsy about the drunken, gambling super hero in my living room who had a bit of a reputation for being the world’s largest sore loser, but I just kept praying that the Raiders would win and everything would be OK and got by.

Towards the end of the game we all piled into the living room to see the winning play. Oh, and here it goes… Time’s almost up, and…

Buccaneers win.

“Ha HA!” shouted Josh as he leapt off the couch, both arms flung up into the air with triumph, “You owe me 20 bucks!”

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Batman asked casually, pointing behind Josh.

“What? Where?” Josh replied as he turned around. Then, quick as a flash, Batman punched him one in the back of the head and Josh collapsed on the spot like a sack of potatoes.

“I said no drinking! I said no gambling!”

“Relax, I know what I’m doing,” Batman said as he fished out a container of smelling salts from his utility belt. And just like that, Josh was back in the world of the living.

“Huh? What happened?” he muttered.

“You fell down and hit your head after the Raiders won.”

“The Raiders won?”

“Yeah. You owe me 20 bucks.”

“OK,” he mumbled, “Let me get my wallet.”

Man, no one welches on a bet like Batman. Even if you win, you still have to pay up.

 

LEGENDS OF BATMAN!