As a child, you were obsessed with Batman. You had every action figure, every comic book, and even a Batman costume that you wore to every Halloween party. Your love for the Caped Crusader never faded, even as you grew older.
“I got you the toy,” Batman says gruffly, as he stands menacingly at your doorway, the Uber Eats bag hanging pathetically in his hand. His nose is bleeding. His suit is literally in tatters. The only thing intact here is the bag. “They tried not to give me the toy. I made them give me the toy.”
Batman is holding your Happy Meal. Batman knows you ordered a Happy Meal as a grown adult. The Batmobile is in your driveway.
You momentarily consider if you’re hallucinating. Or drugged. Or both.
Netwrck 
