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Welcome to my domain.

You may have noticed some changes since your last visit. Yes, we've torn down some walls at the ol' Dark Room, to make way for a new addition to our dark "family." We are now a two-computer website, in fact.

Dear readers, let me make the introductions. I'm Brendan "Nightwing" Hockenberry. Oftimes, a writer--some would say, a dark "visionary." A master of "fan" fiction, or as I like to call it, "Guerilla Attack Drama."

And this blushing young bride, so darkly fetching in her lace shawl and sweatpants? Why, that's none other than the once (and regained) love of my life, Fern Rosario-Hockenberry.

Brendan and Fern's Dark Glade

Room of Unicorns

thank thee, brendan. i love thy. i know i'm embarrassing thou, but i can't help it--i just can't keep these feelings inside, for am not I now and forevermore the one and only ms. rosario-hockenberry, and that makes my heart sing with color and light, for art not love that which shall be what is and make us truly feel love?

indeed art it.

brendan, i pledge to thart my heart, my soul, my passion, and my half of the apartment i share with my roommate peggy, who art hardly ever here anyway as she mayhap goes out a lot for a freshman.

Ah yes, dear dark "reader." I know what you are thinking in the black, shadowy, grime-ridden section of your brain, deep in the skullular cavity-- "Wait, is this not the same Fern Rosario of whom Brendan has spake so much 'smack?'" Yes, I am chuckling, it IS one and the same Fern. But the Cosmic gods "laugh" at humans, they mock us, they scheme against us, they SCREAM to the HEAVENS and RAIL at us, cursing our very EXISTENCES, and also give both of us part-time late shift jobs at Denny's.

I am too much of a gentlemen to discuss the details, but let us simply say that late one night, after Todd, the night manager (we cruelly bename him 'Prince Todd' when he is not a'near), Fern and I "buttered the biscuits." We "refilled the cream." That is to say we "scrubbed the toilets." And then we had sex.

Dark, mysterious sex in the men's room at Denny's.


laugh! i am laughing at thy ardor, my dark visionary prince of the mystical bathroom interlude, laugh! laugh laugh! laugh out loud!

bless the denny's that brought thy back to me... wait, morpheus the dream king kat desires mightily of a clean kat box...entertain our guests, dearest one, my love, my soul, my brave sir brendan, while your fern maketh a cup of tea and findeth the scooper--

Of course, my dark princess, my mistress of the night. I was merely going to introduce to our readers, our first ever collaborative "fan" fiction. A dark, twisted, rain-spattered tale of the character we both affinate with: THE BATMAN. We're writing this together,dear readers, live and unrehearsed! Try and see if you can spot who wrote which bits, is our dark challenge to you! And now, without further a do,


The Batman brooded efficiently, wasting no time in his grim reflection, as he continued his ruminations of violence and death, while having a sandwich.

"Must remember to thank Alfred. Must. REMEMBER!" spake the opaquely-eyed Gotham guardian, slamming one begloved clenched fist upon the whisper-quiet dashboard of the Batmobile, skulking the alleyways and vicious back-streets of the city like a mighty bat-shaped truck. As he forced the last cold morsels into his grimace, he once again thought of his rotting parents who were dead from murder!

"Mom, dad. I've ever tried always to make you proud. Since I saw you shot and bloodied in the snow outside the Zorro theater with holes in your body from the cruel bullets fired that night from Joe Chill's gun, I've tried to not succumb to the blood-red black darkness which threatens to destroy me, and also tonight, the Riddler has struck again, damn his soul to Hell! He has strucken the populace of Gotham with the JANUS INITIATIVE IMPERATIVE VIRUS! Which, as you know, causes people's faces to SPLIT IN HALF!," said the leather-clad law-meister, grasping his own anger firmly.

"But I cannot do this alone, parents. I shall need help! But who...WHO???!?!" An idea formed/flashed in his lightning brain-- "The school! OF COURSE!"

it was only a few moments of time (as it is reckoned) later that the batman hung like a frozen dove from the fourth story roof of the Martha Washington Grade School building...looking desiringly into the barred window in the cold gray snowing evening at the lovely teacher who could easily have been a bit heavier without being called fat. the longing in his gaze was obvious to himself.

"..and the word unicorn, comes from the root uni, meaning one, and corn, meaning white stallion. and that is our lesson for tonight, students, and it is a good thing that we have classes at night. this sort of thing is not as implausible as it seems, because some grade school students go to school at night. have a nice weekend!" said helena bertinelli, the huntress, who ironically taught school even though at night she was the huntress!

the batman again sensitively gazed at her, and his heart leapt and danced and pranced, as a kitten with a ball of yarn or a denny's take-home bag...his thoughts were only of her, his very being was infushed with her essence, as it encircled and enveloped his tortured psychie. he was a child in her presence, he worshipped her, he realized. she was a goddess to him. he vowed to lay down his life for her favor, as was his fondest thing.

"This chick is hot, I guess," muttered the Batman. "Must remember not to go overboard or I'll end up sounding like a jerk," he hinted at himself, warningly. "The Batman is many things, but "dark" is key to my character," he thought in italics.

He waited, until the laughing, happy and non-orphaned students left the room, remarking to himself about the freak snowstorm he hadn't even noticed earlier. "These things happen because Gotham is in a "weather pocket," he scowlingly said.

As he opened the window and quietly slipped his snow-spackled and weary boot into the classroom, he grimly noticed once again that Helena was stacked big time.

but the bat cared not for such superficial things, for was it not true that he was a lover of things that were sensitively beautiful on the inside? was it not the batman's raisin detre to look beyond such things as big jugs? aye, affirmated the batman, remembering his many friendships with women of great creative spirit, which he was not threatened by at all, nor did he have ex-girlfriends he was still friendly with.

"i heard you this time, batman. i felt of your determined presence," said the woman, so alone, so vulnerable, yet so strong inside and needing of no one.

"i could never fool you, helena. you know me, as a fawn knows the cool, shady pool in the fields, leaping, drinking deep..." whispered the batman, his full, sensuous lips flapping life-fully.

"the pain in your heart bespeaks a great loss, batman. mayhap one day, you shalt touch of another's pain, and be made whole, as if in a fairy tale, alas, alas," weeped the huntress, prowling and hissing emotively.

"We should get back to the point, for Chrissakes," said the manly mouth of the cowled avenger in a masculine way, punching the chalkboard and ignoring the pain and chalk dust that resulted. "Get your suit on, and let's go get the Riddler before more people's heads split in two, goddammit."

"i thought the window had bars on it. how did thee get in again, batman, my love?" asked the teacher/crimefighter/crossbow person.

"I picked the lock, tubby," said the ashen-face of the Darkest of all Dark Knights.

"there is no lock, for all shall clearly see, if thine eyes shall envisage, mayhaps, o wise super-brilliant detective?" said helena, who was getting a little pissed-off with this whole collaborating thing.

"Look, if we're going to do this thing, we're going to have to work together...," exhumed the man with the bulletproof pants, when suddenly, three hot Latino chicks came in and started rubbing hot oil on themselves. "Take us, Batman! Take us NOW," they begged in lust-drenched Latino voices.

"do not bother, he's totally queer," said helena, putting on her huntress outfit and wondering why she didn't listen to her mother about what an asshole the batman was. the latino girls, who were actually escaped mental patients, all got up and went to go hump moon knight in the hallway, their mocking laughter bringing tears to the batman's weepy eyes, as his pants fell down and he tripped...

The 100% hetero Batman then leapt up, using sinewy parts, and urgently used his JLA radio signal device. "Wonder Woman? Could you come down here and do me, please? That's right, the way a REAL woman does, not some crap Denny's waitress. What? You want to bring along Supergirl? Oh, sure, no problem, she's nice and thin...say, did you know that the Huntress gave Prince Todd, the night manager at Denny's, an hj after the Christmas party?"

suddenly, the huntress dumped hot chai tea on the batman, who was probably the riddler in disguise or something!

"Ow, shit! OW!," hastily typed the Caped Crusader, blistering and screaming.

"oh, moon knight, you're so hot, like a god or something," said helena, who was going at it hot and heavy with a man who could keep it up for more than five minutes, and didn't hang out with a series of young boys. smilie! winking smilie!

"I'm not kidding. This ****ing BURNS," cried the Batman, throwing pens and stuff at the Huntress' stupid cats and deleting her stupid goddamn unicorn screensaver.

it was then that the stunned batman was hit in the face by the three-day old contents of the kat-box! it was declared a day of victory for all women, everywhere, and batman was voted out of the jla for being a dork and having herpes. the huntress took over his little cave and everyone loved her and made her the queen and she beat all the evil and cured the joker with love, then the riddler said he was sorry and helped the people put their heads back on, the end.

"Call..doctor..." moand th btman aajkdenegmgggggggggggggggggggg

laugh! rolling on the floor laughing!


You'll All Be Sorry! is a satire published by Comic Book Resources, and is not intended maliciously. CBR has invented all names and situations in its stories, except in cases when public figures are being satirized. Any other use of real names is accidental and coincidental, or used as a fictional depiction or personality parody (permitted under Hustler Magazine v. Fallwell, 485 US 46, 108 S.Ct 876, 99 L.Ed.2d 41 (1988)). CBR makes no representation as to the truth or accuracy of the preceeding information.

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