Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #3 – “Dark Moon Rising (Part 3)”! In the previous installment, we follow quite a few threads of story, each one more important than the last! Batman is sneaking up on vampires. His girlfriend, Julie Madison, finds Bruce Wayne to be one suspicious cat. Her alcoholic, possibly schizophrenic father, Norman Madison, is trying to cut ties with kingpin Sal “The Boss” Maroni. Jim Gordon has a lot of dead bodies on his hands, bodies with their necks chewed out.

How is this all going to come together at the end Curb Your Enthusiasm-style? Will Larry David outlive all his old-as-fuck friends? Why does Susie stay with Jeff anyway? And lol that Cheryl Hines is married to RFK Jr., a man I’ve seen described as “someone who looks like he pays women money to shit on his face”.

Anyway, Batman.

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #3 [December, 2006]
Written by: Matt Wagner
“Dark Moon Rising (Part 3)”

“Easy does it there, Bruce,” Batman tells himself grimacingly. “He’s no good to me with a concussion.”

Batman is slamming a motherfucker against a car, all breaking the windshield and everything. It’s nuts. “I don’t care if that hurts. I am a master of pain and suffering and you’re my latest guinea pig. Now… WHO IS THE MONK?”

The car is indeed a hearse. A hearse used to transport bloodless vampire-afflicted bodies to the morgue. This guy claims that he don’t know nothin’, but Batman asks again. “What is ‘The Brotherhood’?”

The guy says it’s just his crew! His homies! Just hangin’ out at 7-Eleven and Gamestop, yo! Batman promises a world of pain if this guy doesn’t fess up. Broken bones. Dislocated shoulders. Hot pokers up the tuchus. Forced episodes of Peppa Pig. The guy stammers… he’s more afraid of what he’ll do to him if he squeals, Batman ain’t got nothing on that.

“And what makes you certain I won’t kill you?” Batman growls.

“Nah, man… I ain’t talkin’ about killin’. It’s… it’s worse than that! Far worse…”

Batman doesn’t want to hear about forced Parcheesi tournaments with the Monk! He throws this guy on top of a wooden crate, splintering it into pieces. Now that he’s knocked out cold, Batman wonders who could possibly be scarier than “The Bat-Man”. He inwardly fumes over this. No one is scarier than The Bat-Man! NO ONE! Not even Gary Busey!

Funny, Bruce Wayne was telling me this exact thing earlier.

Meanwhile, Julie Madison is hanging out with her annoying rich friends. It takes them a while to notice that Julie isn’t very engaged in their blitherings. It turns out she’s preoccupied with worry about her dad. You know, the shiftless alcoholic fuckface? He needs help, and so on. Anyway, a woman who looks like some 1950s floozy, cigarette holder and all (it’s Dala) overhears the conversation and tells the women that her boyfriend is a “private counselor to some of the country’s most influential men.” Julie thanks her for the offer, but she wasn’t really looking broadcast her family’s problems. Not unless the local news asks her and she can have her 15 minutes of whorish fame! Don’t we all?

“Oh, my apologies,” says Dala. “I did not mean to intrude. You just seemed to need someone to listen. So I listened. In my native country, there are far too many secrets and, thus, far too much misery and despair.”

Blah blah blah, lady. Enough about your “old country” (Papua New Guinea, most likely). Anyway, she extends a hand to Julie and introduces herself as Dala Vadim. She continues to pry about Julie’s father, wondering if he’s acting out of character or floating through his day like a mindless zombie. Yes! Yes yes yes! He also keeps shitting himself and not cleaning the shit!

Julie confirms that she is an only child, and her mother died years back. By now Julie’s friends have blown this sad-sack popsicle stand and don’t intend on looking back. Dala advises that Julie visit her friend Niccolai so that she can get the blood sucked out of her neck… er, I mean… get her dad some help. After proffering the distressed lass Niccolai’s card (“Discreet Consultations”), Dala fucks off into the night tout suite!

Eyeball crème brûlée is on the menu tonight, gentlemen.

Elsewhere, Sal Maroni ends up in a sudden impromptu meeting with Carmine Falcone, his dreaded nemesis. Carmine has the upper hand in this conversation, since he caught Sal unawares and everything. “You know how Iike things to run smoothly, don’t you, Sal?” he sneers. “And you know I like my capos to look after their own dealings.”

Sal looks like someone’s about to take a meat tenderizer to his tender nutsack. The Batman is bad enough, but what about Norman Madison? He showed up to Carmine to try to pay back money that he owes Sal! What the fuck, Sal? Keep your damn business out of Carmine’s face, fucker. Or you’ll get a torch to your eyeballs, and whatnot.

Sal agrees to keep the situation in check. Whew, that was a close one! Don’t worry, it’ll probably end well for him. I just know it!

Julie comes home at the end of a long night drinkin’ and finds her key unable to work. Norman’s butler, Mr. Anti-Pennyorth, opens the door and tells her that Dear Old Dad had all the locks changed. Even the one to his private study! So get the fuck out, daughter. Nobody wants you around!

Julie raps on the study door and Norman answers looking like he just saw four scary ghosts! “I’m fine darling! I’m fine! Just… busy, that’s all!” he mumbles before slamming the door into her face.

“He needs help,” she thinks. “Even if he won’t ask for it himself.” So, certainly, she’ll call this complete stranger to come over and suck the juice out of his jugular. And I’m here for it!

That night, Batman strikes sexy full-paged poses as he swings around Gotham City. Forget vampires for a moment, he has other fish to fry: Sal Maroni’s missing shipment of heroin that he needs to find before either Carmine or Sal do. 900 kilos! Just imagine how many days in a row you can snort that shit! Yowza!

Good thing I have this Dope-Listening Device that I can use to hear the dope!

After busting up dens full of users, warehouses full of suppliers, and homosexual bathhouses full of dealers, Batman decides that it all points to one singular entity: The Monk! And I’m not talking about Tony Shaloub. Not this time! But what’s the connection? Heroin… bitten necks… hmm…

Bruce retires to his manor where he slumps in a comically oversized chair, wondering if he had somehow… inspired this nighttime crime guy. Creatures skulking in the night. Batman started that shit, and now people seem to think they’re free to do it themselves right here in Gotham? Bruce’s Gotham???

Meanwhile, Julie drives up to an absolutely terrifying castle and raps on the giant door. Dala answers the door looking like Vampirella and invites Julie into the dark, scary death hut. “So very large, yes,” Dala comments about the sheer size of the place, “still, Niccolai, says it is perfect for a life of contemplative reflection. Free from all the trappings and distractions of modern life…”

Dala leads Julie to Niccolai, who looks like warmed-over dogshit. He extends a hand to Julie and invites her to enjoy all the amenities that a dark, dreary castle has to offer.

“What the hell am I doing here?!” Julie thinks. “He wears robes like some kind of monk! He lives in a castle! Daddy will never, ever go for this.”

…but then she gets lost in his sexy baritone voice. His hypnotic eyes. His sallow… gross skin. Niccolai takes Julie by the arm and leads her to a chair. Niccolai sits in one opposite of her. She feels compelled to spill everything about her decrepit father.

His glistening red eyes! Now there’s a man!

And while Niccolai sympathizes with her shut-in father – he himself hasn’t left home in seven years – he is not afraid or desperate as Norman seems to be. Julie tells Niccolai of some legal trouble that Norman has found himself in, but she knows nothing of it. She just knows that Norman has been weird for months with no signs of stopping!

“Tell me, Julie, your father’s business… is he the majority stockholder?” Niccolai says with his slithery voice. And, why, he’s the only stockholder! Excellent, excellent…

Julie takes a sip of tea and immediately feels woozy. Niccolai looks at her with mock concern and announces that she, too, needs relief from her various and many woes…

Julie has a sudden, hazy dream about fighting with a man named Alex. Alex spoke to a waitress like she was a common slut, and Julie chastises him for such rudeness. She demands he take her home, but he slaps her and tells her she should just walk “while she is still able to.” Julie calls Alex a creep. Then a dashing, handsome, young playboy-type of a Wayne Industries-owning man sidles on up and apologizes to the young woman on Alex’s behalf. The rest is history, as they say.

…

Dala asks Niccolai why she let Julie go. He ached for her blood, yes, but her father is worth millions and she may be able to help keep the Brotherhood financially secure. Yes yes, many uses for her, indeed… “As my influence over her grows, she will gain us access to his fortunes. His wealth will be ours. And then the Brotherhood can ravish her as one. Her fluids will also enrich us.”

Gross! Later, Julie is numb and staring into space during a ride from Bruce Wayne. Well, actually, a ride from Alfred. Bruce couldn’t drive a remote control car. They’re on their way to the ballet and Julie is quite distracted to say the least…

She claims she’s a bit hot and removes her scarf… revealing a small vampire-y two-toothed bite mark on her neck…

Bruce makes this face:

Egad!

Final Thoughts

IT’S ALL COMING TOGETHER ALREADY! Someone sucked on Julie’s neck before Bruce got in there first and now he’ll be out for revenge! Look out, Mad Monk, the bat’s gonna getcha.