Batman v. Superman: Who’s a Better Lay?

(Superman enters a coffee shop where Batman is already seated at a table)

Superman: Sorry I’m late. I had to fight off a horde of alien lizard warlords and even after I reversed the earth’s orbit to turn back time it still left me five minutes behind. You been here long?

Batman: Seven hours. I spent most that time doing surveillance from behind a Splenda dish.

Superman: Great. You order?

Batman: Just a hot chocolate.

Superman: (to waitress) Hey, can I get 30 or 40 pancakes over here? (to Batman) She’s cute. You should ask her out.

Batman: Batman does fine.

Superman: Listen Bruce—

Batman: Clark—

Superman: Fine, Batman. I worry about you. All gloomy in that big mansion castle. You should get out more.

Batman: I do fine with ladies. I draw a hell of a lot more tail than you.

Superman: Are you kidding? I would totally spank you, sexually speaking. Wait, I mean–

Batman:  By assuming you’ve already won, you just sacrificed sure footing for a death blow.

Superman: How do you figure?

Batman: I’ve already run seventeen possible scenarios for the argument in my head and in sixteen of them I win.

Superman: Okay. The question isn’t who’s more cryptic. It’s who’s a better at sex. The Dark Knight or the Man of Steel? I win. I would rip you a new one, sexually. Again that didn’t come out right.

Batman: You’ve failed to examine the facts. Here you are, getting up every morning, covering yourself up to become Clark Kent–all buttoned up and repressed. Your skin’s crawling to get out of that suffocating Sears suit and bust out into flamboyant candy apple red and peacock blue.  You’re so itching to let that curl down and put your come fuck-me-boots on you could punch a dick.  But instead you’re all pent up frustration and public bathroom sex.

Superman: I’m not gay.

Batman: You’re right, you’re just no good at having sex with women.  When laying on top a lady, you’re probably not even focused.  You’re too preoccupied thinking about how you are an allegory for Jesus. Super boring.

Superman: Well, you’re a perv.

Batman: Oh, you got that right.  Batman is a freak.  Batman is all about the crazy, deviant sex.  Girl wouldn’t even know where I am.  It’d be totally dark in the bedroom or cave and she’d hear a voice like “I’m over here.” Then, “Now I’m over here.”  Then, “Now I’m inside you.” Girls love that shit.

Superman: Great, so you’re mysterious.  That doesn’t make you a good lay.

Batman: Oh, Batman knows what you want.  Batman’s got no boundaries.  He’s up for anything.  He’ll do any freaky thing you can imagine.  Want him to give you a Dirty Sanchez with a pineapple?  Hell yeah.

Superman: Do you even know what a dirty Sanchez is, Bruce?

Batman: No, but Batman does.

Superman: I was under the impression that Batman and Bruce Wayne were the same person.

Batman: Am I? I mean…are we? (Raises eyebrow, which cannot be seen because of the cowel)

Superman: You’re a strange creature.

Batman: Fine. But I am also a walking encyclopedia of weird sex shit. Sitting in a cave wearing a rubber suit all day which may or may not have nipples will do that to you. That’s what women want, a man who is comfortable with his freaky side.  I’m a thinking woman’s sex machine.

Superman: What you are is the world’s most self-pitying orphan.  “Everybody has to feel my pain!” Boo hoo. My whole planet died, but you don’t see me sitting in a cave, crying into a gallon of Hagen Daas every Saturday night.

Batman: Shut your face, Supes. The last noteworthy thing you did was die. But then you came back, the world shrugged and everyone continued to not give a shit about you.

Superman: I will attempt to kill you in a less public place then this. In the meantime, let’s look at our core sexual attributes.

Batman: Yes…lets.

Superman: I’m super fast

Batman: Yeah, I’ll put that in the “minus” column.

Superman: I’m super strong.

Batman: Who wants a crushed pelvis or perforated colon? Science shows the act of orgasm resembles a pleasant epileptic attack. For a moment, one loses control. What happens when you lose control, hmmm? I’ll bet when you get lost inside that climax after 30 seconds you blow an ocular laser discharge. Meaning some lucky lady’s gonna catch a point blank laser blast right in the mug. How many girls’ faces have you melted off?

Superman: …

Batman: Then you fly around the earth a few hundred thousand times, sobbing your ass off before returning home to straighten all the tassels on your living room rug.

Superman: Listen, I am a flying pussy wagon. First of all, I am a strong male archetype, so I scoop up all the girls with “daddy issues” like popcorn. It’s the American way. And hell, when I get tired of earth girls I blast off the space to get me some real strange. Like five boobs and seven vaginas strange.

Batman: You ever gotten a girl pregnant?

Superman: Uh, no.

Batman: Of course not. No girl could live to tell about it because no earthly woman could withstand your super spooge. Once girls get wind that your supersonic jizz will rip them in half, well that the kind of lady’s room gossip that can kill your rep.

Superman: Whatever, what’ve you got?

Batman: All the aces, my friend. For example:

- I never say anything, so I’m a totally great listener.
– My parents died right in front of me, leaving me with some serious guilt.  So I’m always eager to please…orally.
– I have a sweet car, a boat, and a nice house–versus an ice house.

Superman: You can’t rag on the Fort of ‘tude.

Batman: Oh yeah, that palace of frozen shit is a total chick magnet.  “Hey baby, you wanna put your bare ass on that block of ice while I insert my cold pee-pee in ya?”

Superman: It doesn’t feel cold.

Batman: Spoken like a true rapist.

Superman: Whatever.

Batman: Let us please remember that I’m rich, so I’m prepared with the hush money in case something goes wrong and someone forgets the safe word. And, if ever should come a night when I can’t perform because I’m out avenging my parents’ death—AGAIN—or the Joker’s been punching me in the dong all night, you can always go to the backup gimp I keep in the closet.

Superman: Gimp?

Batman: Robin.

Superman: So that’s where he went. (sighs) Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re the better sex guy. You know, I’ve been chasing the same chick for like seven decades.

Batman: How’s that goin’ for ya?

Superman: Eh, it has its ups and downs. She not so bright, man. I mean, she’s the lead reporter on the beat to unmask Superman and I’m like totally standing next to her 99% of the day.  Oh, and sometimes when she sleeps over, I get up early, still in the cape, and I slip on the glasses. She wakes up and is all like: “Clark, how did you get here? Where’s Superman?” Many that shit used to be funny until it got depressing.

Batman: I feel ya. Sometimes I get these tweaked girls who are like, “Hit me with your batarang.” I think she means smack her face with my wiener, but it turns out she actually wants me to hit her with the batarang. “Use the bat torch on me,” she says. “Gas me with your batgas,” she says. I’m like, “get the fuck out, crazy!” I mean, I like it weird, but c’mon.

Superman: Relationships are tough.

Batman: Yeah.

Superman: So you win the sex prize, but what about if we actually fought?

Batman: Oh, you’d crush me.

Superman: Yeah (laughs)…yeah, I probably would…Then I’d write a news story about it because that’s what I do. “Superman Tears Batman a New Asshole, sexually.” No, wait…

Batman: I mean what are you kidding?  You’re Superman. You’re Super.

Superman: I get magical powers from the yellow sun.

Batman: I just work out and I’m angry. You’d toss my ass into the sun.

Superman: I would crush you into a 1-inch square cube.

Batman: While pissing on my grave…from space.  Then you’d go back in time and have sex with my mom and dad.

Superman: Ha! That’s why there will never be a Batman Vs. Superman movie. There’s no way that movie could be longer than like three minutes.

Batman: Yeah, under no circumstances could I, Batman, defeat you, Superman. Unless you didn’t show up because you had your wiener in some dude’s butt.

Superman: Not gay!

Batman: Well, at least we can agree both of us would be a way better lay than Aquaman.

(Both laugh in the grand spirit of camaraderie, throwing an arm around one another’s shoulder. Aquaman enters, throws a glass of water in their faces.)

Aquaman: Lay off Aquaman.  Aquaman gets all kinds of fishy puss!

No, he doesn't.