It Was a Gift

by Steve Mitchell

“Have you seen my cup?”  Batman growls.   He always growls.

“No, I don’t think so.”  I answer.

“I had it three minutes ago.  I put it down…there,” he points a gauntleted finger at a patch of countertop near my elbow.

“Huh.”  I shrug.

Batman scowls.  “I’ve had a long night.  I want my coffee.”

“I hear ya, Man.”  I nod then look at the wall.  I study the wall clock.

Batman stares at the mug in my hands.  “Is that my cup?”

“This?”

“Because it looks like my cup.”  Batman sniffs the air near the cup.  “Hazelnut.  That’s my coffee.”

“What? Nooo.  Hazelnut?  I don’t, I don’t smell it, I don’t even- This is my cup, Batman!  It was a gift. Jeez. There’s lots of cups; you know?  Have a little trust. Those guys, those bad guys are getting to you, Man.”  I shrug again.

Batman narrows his eyes.  He clenches his jaw and sighs in a way which sounds like a growl.  “Let me know if you see it.”

“You got it.  Will do, Batman!”  But I’m talking to the air.  He’s gone.

I sniff the coffee.   I don’t really like  hazelnut.

It’ll be okay.  I mean, he’s suspicious, sure, but, how’s he gonna know?  There’s lots of mugs in the world.  This could be anyone’s mug.  He probably believes me.

Yeah.

There’s no way for him to know.

batmug

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