It was all a bit of a Thwack! Biff! Crunk! of a thing. But hadn’t she always loved those scenes in Batman when the staged fighting was animated with big cartoon bubbles of impact noises? She so had. She had loved those moments when Robin swung, little satin pumps first, into the belly of the bad guy. So maybe having got through one of those was something she wouldn’t have wanted to miss. And she was fortified by the knowledge that she had, it appeared, the relevant cartoon bubbles in her arsenal when needed. Shaking on the bus, ignoring sideways glances from other passengers, she let the spinning world settle.
Jo was still astonished though. A half-brick through a front window was so fucking satisfying. And the standing there waiting for the front door to open was probably the most invigorating moment Jo had ever experienced. Then out she’d marched, Alexia, straight down the front steps and slapped her. You couldn’t have scripted a better Batman fight. There was the lovely, old-fashioned metal dustbin (Clang!) the punch she’d got right into Alexia’s belly (Ooof!) and the knuckles to her own chin (Crrrrack!) She really wished she’d gone in costume but that would’ve been wasted on Alexia. Alexia was, sadly, completely without a sense of occasion. If she’d gone to the trouble of full Boy Wonder costume, Alexia would have just taken it as further evidence of her lunacy.
Alexia had happened along when Jo’s youngest was nineteen and she seemed like every single lesbian’s dream – so sorted. Ha! It was amazing, Jo thought, how much therapy you could buy and still live in a state of complete denial. Oh well, the brick through the window approach might be more effective than humanistic, therapeutic, psychodynamic, reiki, angel, crystal therapy had been. Maybe a brick from the Boy Wonder would clear her head.
The best things in life seemed to be Boy Things. Being a grown-up woman was a pain in the arse. All those years washing up and pegging out and making sure she gave up her seat to whichever wailing child was making the most fuss. And once the children were gone it seemed that other people queued up to make demands in their place – parents, neighbours, friends who couldn’t seem to manage their divorces without twenty-four hour counselling by phone. And then, of course, there was Alexia. Well, not any more. Jo went to the offie with her credit card, bought eight beers and drank them all. Then she went online and bought a full Robin outfit, with mask. Maybe the world would stop expecting so much if she was more appropriately dressed.