You’re welcome, Gotham Municipal Court building.
I thought it would match the three thousand snails I released in there last night.First prize goes to the one who can solve it.
And yes, this is an allusion to the newly missing Judge Peter S. Naille.
Couldn’t resist the pun.
How fuckin’ long did this take y’?
How many containers of salt did y’ use?
Please share; I hafta know so when Batman kicks your ass I can write somethin’ for th’ papers t’ print concernin’ your ridiculous ideas an’ how they always get y’ caught.
Figure it out.
A true artist never reveals the secrets of his craft, thou dual-faced dunce.
You’re a friggin’ idiot.
I hope th’ air conditioner kicks on an’ blows all your hard work away. It’s waste of time.
You’re welcome, Gotham Municipal Court building.
I thought it would match the three thousand snails I released in there last night.First prize goes to the one who can solve it.
And yes, this is an allusion to the newly missing Judge Peter S. Naille.
Couldn’t resist the pun.
How fuckin’ long did this take y’?
How many containers of salt did y’ use?
Please share; I hafta know so when Batman kicks your ass I can write somethin’ for th’ papers t’ print concernin’ your ridiculous ideas an’ how they always get y’ caught.
Sounds like fuckin’ denial.
No one asked you.
But no one told me t’ keep my mouth shut, neither.
I found this big guy in the middle of the road and decided he needed a good home. I’ve never had a reptile as a pet before, but I’ve been reading like crazy since I got home and I think this is something I can do. I’ve already scoped out my nearest reptile store and will be visiting them come morning and procuring everything I need to get this guy happy.
Thing is, I’m not sure what type of chameleon he is, and I want to be able to go into the store with a good idea of what I have so I can figure out what I’m going to need for his habitat to ensure he has the correct temperature/humidity. I did some searching online and I think he might be either a Panther chameleon or an Oustalet’s. I thought he might be a Carpet at first, but he’s pretty big and his back has the spiked ridge. The inside of his mouth is yellow, if that helps anyone out. He is also maybe a foot long, from nose to the tip of his tail. Probably malnourished, as well, judging from how skinny and bony his tail is.
Basically, if someone can help me identify this guy so I can make sure I get the right materials for his habitat, I would very much appreciate it.
Twoface.
What th’ fuck do y’ want?
A fucking ride?
Y’ sure? ‘Cause I got a helluva lotta frustration I need t’ take out on someone.
Well, you did promise me one.
Fine. Get your shit. We’ll go for a fuckin’ ride.
[Edward probably shouldn’t be this excited but hell yes, he’s going for a fucking ride. Death defying adrenaline in it’s finest.]
I already got it. In the car.
[God, he was so annoying. Not really in the mood to deal with Eddie, but knowing it was probably best to get out of the mansion for a little while, Tow-Face grabbed his keys and stomped out to the garage where his newest baby was waiting for him.]
You touch this car again an’ I’ll fuckin’ kill y’.
Art by Matt Wagner for A Special Batman Adventures Pin-Up Section
Twoface.
What th’ fuck do y’ want?
A fucking ride?
Y’ sure? ‘Cause I got a helluva lotta frustration I need t’ take out on someone.
Well, you did promise me one.
Fine. Get your shit. We’ll go for a fuckin’ ride.
You’re dead.
Please.
If y’ actually manage t’ kill me, I think I’d come back from th’ dead jus’ so I could quit crime an’ turn over a new leaf.
Get over yourself, Nygma.
I’m done with this.
Don’t come back unless you’re dismembered.
Alright princess. Don’t let your mascara run.
Y’ should be used t’ bein’ ignored.
Oh. That was actually rather observant for a man who’s alcohol-addled mind and liver are so similar to his dead beat father’s that it’s a wonder he can formulate proper verbalizations at all.
Any further insight, there? Or are you going to pull a gun on me and call me a faggot?
Your predictability is as sickening as the reflection of your father that you psyche has constructed in an attempt to protect the poor, fragile Harvey on the inside.
You’re pathetic.
Boo-hoo. An’ your Daddy never loved y’.
I hear y’ cheat on every single one of your riddles, too. Smart or not, guess we all turn t’ Google, sooner or later.
You’re dead.
Please.
If y’ actually manage t’ kill me, I think I’d come back from th’ dead jus’ so I could quit crime an’ turn over a new leaf.
Get over yourself, Nygma.
Y’ should be used t’ bein’ ignored.
Oh. That was actually rather observant for a man who’s alcohol-addled mind and liver are so similar to his dead beat father’s that it’s a wonder he can formulate proper verbalizations at all.
Any further insight, there? Or are you going to pull a gun on me and call me a faggot?
Your predictability is as sickening as the reflection of your father that you psyche has constructed in an attempt to protect the poor, fragile Harvey on the inside.
You’re pathetic.
Boo-hoo. An’ your Daddy never loved y’.
I hear y’ cheat on every single one of your riddles, too. Smart or not, guess we all turn t’ Google, sooner or later.
