Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Catwoman (Vol. 4), Issue #2 – “I could say that I’ll sleep better, but that’s a lie.”! And my guess is that every title is the issue’s last line. How delightful. In the previous installment, Catwoman’s apartment gets firebombed by people she doesn’t know, she beats up a whole room full of Russian mobsters and their prostitutes, then proceeds to rape Batman until he gives in willingly.

I’m serious about all of that. Let’s move on.

Catwoman (Vol. 4), Issue #2 [December, 2011]
Written by: Judd Winick
“I could say that I’ll sleep better, but that’s a lie.”

Catwoman describes the really rough, Earth-shattering, bone-breaking sex that she and Batman are having. She likens it to a bar fight, just a lot of swearing and misplaced anger and bruising.

Batman has the grossest muscles I’ve ever seen. Look better. His pants are down to his knees, but Catwoman’s legs block his crotch so that the kids who bought this comic book don’t get slapped by their parents.

Batman asks if she’s ok on account of the firebombed apartment, but Catwoman deflects the question. “I’m serious,” he says. “You’re always serious,” she says. And you know what I say? WHY SO SERIOUS?! Doot doot doot-doot dooooooo!

“Why do you care so much about helping me?” she asks, getting her clothes back on.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt or have anyone else get caught in your crossfire.” This Batman guy, always looking out for those caught in Catwoman’s crossfire. It must happen quite a bit. She’s as reckless as the dickens.

Once Catwoman squeezes into her really uncomfortable leather suit, she’s off without even a goodbye! Her cats follow. She says that she and Batman like each other, and it’s sickening. That’s me saying that. It is sickening.

Anyway, down to business! I forgot to mention that Selina overheard the Russians talking about a painting that was stolen from them, so she’s looking to recover it for a handsome sum. So she immediately steals it from He Who Stole it and leaves a note behind:

“UGLY PICTURE. BUT I HEAR YOU LIKE IT AND MAY WANT IT BACK. I’LL BE IN TOUCH.”

You can’t be a cat woman and a horse girl! That’s nonsense!

Selina returns to her friend Lola’s apartment where she perches atop the table rudely instead of sitting in a chair.

“This is from when you ran from the Russians?”

“Yes.”

“It’s him?”

“Yes.”

“This Renald… he’s who… who hurt your friend?”

“Yes.”

“And this is the guy whose I you took out last night?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not walking away from this?”

“Nope.”

Lola reminds Selina that she can’t let her emotions get in the way of business, but this seems to be what Selina Kyle does. Don’t try and stop her, she’ll just claw out your spleen. Lola frowns while Selina readies herself for another evening of revenge and hissing and meowing.

Selina has informed the Russian Egorovs clan that she has their painting. After threats and whining, they agreed to settle on a price for the painting back. Then she informed the Russian Ivgene clan that she has the painting and is willing to give it to them for a large amount of money. “I insisted that Renald be there for the drop. They wanted to know why.”

Are these even real names? Egorovs? Ivgene? Renald? Come on, now.

They all meet up at the Wayne Foundation Children’s Trust banquet. “Bruce Wayne may be many things besides gorgeous and rich. But I’m not sure anybody cares about what those other things are. I know I don’t.” Ha, that’s actually funny! He could be kind and funny and smart, but nobody gives a shit. Run that beautiful well dry, I always say.

He’s on his way to Blackout Town to check himself into Puke Hotel. And then hang himself while jerking it.

Bruce Wayne catches a whiff of Selina Kyle there, barely incognito. She’s wearing a blonde wig and that’s about it. Alfred asks Bruce what she’s doing here. Bruce has no clue. Probably because he’s gorgeous and rich and not much else, especially in the brains department. Booyah.

Alfred looks old enough to keel over and die while barfing up blood and his catheter bag up through his penis. He’s all craggy and wrinkled-faced and he looks like he smells pretty bad. Alfred suggests that Bruce lay low, but Bruce immediately does not lay low and approaches Selina. “A million and a half women in Gotham and this is who catches his eye,” Alfred sighs. “Delightful.”

Bruce’s nose is red and he says stuff like “hrrmpp duremmophph” to Selina. “I thought I knew every twenty-two-year-old who could afford a thousand-dollar-a-plate benefit,” he says, smiling and leaning in a little too close. Selina comments to herself that he reeks of scotch.

I’mnotslurringmyspeech. YOU are. YOU are youlittlebitch.

One of the Russian clan members places a very conspicuous and large briefcase into a very conspicuously placed potted plant.

One of the other Russian clan members places a large duffle bag into a vase next to the elevator in front of, I assume, 900 people.

Bruce is trying to get Selina and her friends to join him at one of his clubs, probably to try to have sex with all of them at once. “Look… kidding aside… please leave with me right now,” he says, leering at her like a repeat sex offender. He gives her a look that turns her pussy into a waterfall…

…but she resists and slinks away. Bruce Wayne sobers up for a second and glares at Alfred. The girl was texting. TEXTING. Girls and their fucking texting. Good thing Alfred used his special T-Mobile administrative account to intercept the texts. A payment drop. Two of them, right here at this very party! The nerve! What the fudge, lady?

Here’s some slick business: Catwoman has convinced both clans to meet up in the same room to collect the painting, unbeknownst to both of them. Then they’re all like “GET THE PAINTING” and “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” and “VODKA. DA. BORIS YELSTIN. TCHAIKOVSKY.” and they bring out their guns and threaten to shoot ‘em all up and whatnot. Chaos and pandemonium. And yelling a lot in Russian.

Bruce enters the room and recognizes members of both mobs. Before he even has a chance to see what’s going on, Catwoman drops from the ceiling and wraps her legs around Bruce’s neck. “Hang on, baby…” Then she bends down and kisses him. “…it’s about to get loud in here.”

Catwoman throws a firecracker and the guns start going off.

“I’d like to think that the last thing Renald sees – out of the eye that I left him – is me.”

Renald’s one eye bugs out at Catwoman, then he gets a chest fulla bullets. “But he’s a bit busy trying not to die. I’ll take what I can get.”

Bruce ducks and covers while Catwoman cavorts around the room, deftly avoiding the bullets. Bruce looks determined to chase her down, but she’s like “ha ha lol can’t catch me!” Playing hard to get. Or, honestly, easy to get.

Disgusting, that’s how Ben Franklin got syphilis.

Catwoman has left the building! She grasps a briefcase in one hand, a swinging rope in the other. Duffle bag around her neck. She revels in the glory of victory!

“I could say that I’ll sleep better. But that’s a lie.” (THE NAME OF THE ISSUE, DING DING DING, THANKS FOR PLAYING ALONG.)

She returns to Lola’s apartment to find her tied to a chair, covered in blood, bullet hole in the forehead, extremely fucking dead.

Tears start streaming down Selina’s cheeks. Suddenly, one of those skull-masked guys who firebombed Selina’s apartment coldcocks her right in the face, grabs her mask, and throws her right against a wall. Then there’s punching and kicking and bleeding. Selina looks feral like a… you know. A feral cat.

Some weird-looking rock-faced guy introduces himself to her. “I’m Louis Ferryman. Some call me BONE. You must the be the irritating woman who dresses up like a cat and has been stealing from me.”

Selina is covered in a gross mixture of tears and blood and sweat and mucus and pee and cum. “That’s me,” she burbles.

Final Thoughts

Mr. Bone is going to be the Bad Guy We All Love to Hate!

I think it’s beyond stupid that Selina Kyle can fuck Batman all day and then not recognize him whatsoever as Bruce Wayne. Meanwhile, all she does is wear a wig and he knows right away? Foolish. I bite my thumb at that, good sir.

I don’t see YET what’s too terrible about this Catwoman series. It’s certainly better so far than Red Hood and the Outlaws, which was also mostly about fucking, actually. Hmm.