“I don’t know what to do with this damn thing…” Batman stared down at the strung wooden instrument.
“Like this,” as a beautiful sound emerged.
“I don’t think this is going to work out, Garfunkel. I mean, Simon quits and the first person you come to is me, Batman? That just seems kind of…out of place. I fight crime during the night, I don’t sing about the sound of silence — cool as that is.” He quickly added the last bit after seeing the dissatisfied look on Garfunkel’s face. “Awww, c’mon, Garfie! Don’t do that! You know I love you! I’m just not the caped crusader for the job. Why not give old Pete Gabriel a call, eh? Or that fellow from Yes, what’s his name … Rick Wakeman! You ever see his ice opera? FIERCE. That’s the only word I can use to describe it. Fierce…”
Garfunkel smiled. "You’re right, Batman. I think I was just too excited and forgot how bad you suck at music.
“Well, let’s not get carried away…”
Suddenly the bat signal shot up in the sky. “No time for talk, Garfunkel! We gotta go!”