I turn towards it. The mask. The Official Replica Batman Cowl, made from the same mold used to make the real cowl for the movie. For real. It sits in it’s place of honour, atop my glass pyramid of priceless movie mementoes. Atop the sculpted bronze dragons, the hideously grinning plaster skull, atop this altar to aspiration, it stands. There’s even a light, placed behind it, to cause it to look exactly the way it did when first seen in the movie.
For some reason, tonight the cowl calls to me. It beckons me as my eyes lock upon it. It speaks to a side in me that had long lain dormant. The side of me that willingly stole into the night to play pranks. To knock on doors and run away. To hide behind signs to scare the wits out of innocent passersby. To take chances, to leap from the tree branches, to trust that, when the time comes to land, I will come out of it more or less ok.
The mask speaks to me, and whispers to this dark fox inside me. Put me on, it whispers softly. I know I don’t really hear it, but a part of me realizes that I do. Take to the night, slip from shadow to darkness. Take chances, follow the dare, tilt at windmills! Become! Transcend! Take to the night!
Then the microwave beeps. Ah, the burritos.