Silently, the caped figure crept in through the open skylight and dropped to a crouch on the floor. Pulling a small flashlight from his utility belt, Batman scanned the dark, dingy office until he found the body: some two-time hood known as “The Schnozz” who was about to turn state’s evidence. But he knew at once this was no ordinary killing. From the chemical scent in the air, and the grotesque, twisted grin on the victim’s face, one thing was clear: The Joker was back in town.
Holy hound dog, Cheryl S.!
He looks…deflated..
Flaps! Raise the flaps!
There’s a book about aging titled: I Feel Sad About My Neck by Nora Ephron.
I was told once that, if I was curious about how plastic surgery would affect me, I should lie on my back and look at my face in a mirror. I noticed no real difference.
I’m sure this guy would, but would he go for it?