The “scarecrow” rolled onto his back and groaned, “Dude, why’d you have to kick so ha-a-a-ard?”
Robin chuckled and patted him on the stomach, “Cause you, my good man, suck at stage fighting, always rolling the wrong way or flinching like a little girl.”
“Screw you,” came the muffled rejoinder from beneath the mask, “Can I take this off now?” Robin just shrugged and looked across the stairwell. “Batman” shrugged, trying to come up with an excuse to prolong the project, even if it meant Nelson had to stay in the itchy scarecrow mask a little longer.
“Dunno,” their Batman suggested, his face aglow from the LCD screen on the small camcorder, “Maybe we should get a few more dramatic shots on the roof, like Scarecrow waiting for his prey dramatically or something.”
“As long as you take these frakking, gay cuffs off me,” bemoaned the “scarecrow.”
And Robin exulted, “This is so going rock on YouTube!”