Scott Nichols THE WEASEL IN MY BATMAN COSTUME Chapter one I had a dress on the day John-Boy lit his face on fire. My grandpa had the vacuum on in the other room, watching the Waltons on TV. Suddenly the TV shook something violently and Michael Learned fell out. My grandpa shit bricks hard. "Excuse me," she said, dusting off her frock. "OK!" She pulled out a box of saltine crackers and crushed them individually on her forehead. "I don't get to do this much at home," she whispered. Some of the crumbs went down her shirt where they turned into fully-formed Spanish-speaking crackers, leaning out the window to the lanai and yelling at the carpet in Castilian. Chapter two If I remember right, I guess John-Boy's face didn't catch totally on fire. Just the left cheek. But I guess that's not important. What is: Michael Learned is in my grandparents' living room. And she's reciting Latin poetry: Dante. With a 1930s accent. "Gatsby was such a doll!" "Let's go see your car!" "To the chariot, Ben-Hur!" "Ant farms are neato!" And something about bolgias. Chapter three (AP) SWITZERLAND— Due to unforeseen circumstances, chapter three is currently in Beirut, the land of milk and honey. We'll know more as this story progresses. Chapter four My grandma thought we all were nuts. "I'm Batman!" she'd yell. Batman would look in the window and shed a single tear, or two. Then we'd eat camel meat and watch Batman fly away into the deep dark night. Chapter five Michael Learned caused some obvious friction between my parents and my grandparents. They argued for hours whether she should stay in my room or in the doghouse with the extra statues of Jesus. Then the call came from Baghdad: John-Boy was on fire! I leapt up from the bed to see what was the matter. With a flick of my wrist I was there, in front of everyone in the lanai, calling out to the Ghost of Mary Ann in the back yard. "I'm drunk!" My mom looked weary. "Silly boy, you cried in bed!" Everyone had a good laugh, but the best part was the flight to Baghdad. We rushed for dear life, like an old man pretending to be Emil Zapotek in the shower before the 1952 Olympics. "Nurse, this water's way too hot. I'd much prefer a colder shower." "You prick," the nurse shot back. "I'll tell your wife about the pudding!" "NO! NOT THE PUDDING!" "Watch it, buster. I'll take you down like a hot water bottle." "You wouldn't!" "Yes I would. Just watch!" Chapter five continued She undid the hot water bottle and slid it down her pants. Then she rode him like a mare with a hot water bottle between her legs, if the mare had a nurse's hat and size 10 pants. "The horror!" "Watch it, old man!" Chapter six John-Boy was still burning when we arrived in Baghdad with the water pail and the 1930s baking soda to put out the fire. A new chapter of the Bible had been written in his honor. SIT. A reading from the book of John-Boy to Yoko. All: Thanks be to God. The air here is awfully cold, in a nice sort of way. I would like to join your fan club, though I must say I've never heard of an LP before. It must be wonderful. My uncle has some questions as to how Asian people comport themselves in the rest of the world. We can go to market together and you could tell me, if you would like. Some of the questions are quite racy, so let's talk in private. The Word of the Lord. All: Thanks be to God. Chapter seven Soon there was not much left to do but take John-Boy home and ring in the New Year. And ring it in we did, like Bruce Hornsby laughing at the end of a song he wrote for Amiri Baraka called "What the Hell Kind of Name is Amiri Baraka, Anyway?" especially if the song was about toking. "John-Boy, let's go toking!" "All-righty, Scott!" Michael Learned looked at all of us, and Bruce Hornsby looked at us, and Chuck D looked at us, and the ghost of Frank Stanford looked at us with a fake wooden eye while all the trees fell down, and Mary Ann lifted her knickers on the subway just in time for a hoagie, and fuckin' Ray Bradbury yelled "Huzzah!" and all we could do was laugh.