An Empty Chair Interview with Poison Ivy

Welcome back dear reader, to Gotham City. When we last left off, I had just been rescued from the mad clutches of the Joker by none other than Batman himself.

You may recall that I inadvertently contributed to the current state of affairs in the city when I allowed the Joker to stage a prison break from Arkham Asylum.

Batman has been working tirelessly since then to clean up my unfortunate mess, however he is just one man and can’t be everywhere at once.

Although I am no crime fighter myself, I do believe my skills as an investigative journalist may be of some service to the present situation. I also still feel somewhat guilty for the way events have transpired, and it’s time for me to make amends.

I’ve tracked down one Pamela Isley (more commonly known these days as ‘Poison Ivy’) to somewhere within the sprawling Gotham Botanical Gardens.

I was careless last time and almost let the Joker get the drop on me, but I won’t make the same mistake again. I’ve taken some extra precautions just in case I get into any trouble. I’ve prepared a text message to send to Batman’s personal phone number (don’t ask how I got it) so if things get a bit too close for comfort, all I have to do is hit one button and he’ll come to the rescue… right? He always does, and this is still my interview.

What could possibly go wrong?


I’m approaching the entrance to the gardens now. I’ve been here before, but they’re not the same as I remember. Even from outside, the gardens appear to have been unkempt for some time. Thick vines overhang the perimeter fence as if struggling to expand beyond their unnatural confines.

As I enter, I detect a pungent but pleasant aroma in the air. Sweet and perfectly balanced with hints of citrus and lavender, it sets me at ease immediately.

I don’t know what I was so worried about… this is nice.

I wander deeper into the gardens, admiring the diverse variety of plant life on display, each specimen more exotic than the last; wild and untamed as nature intended. The natural light of the full moon illuminates everything in a most stunning way.

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before.

Before long I’ve lost all track of time and am completely immersed in the maze of natural wonders. At last I arrive at an open clearing, bathed in moonlight.

Then I hear her…

“Welcome to my garden.”

A figure emerges from amongst the brush and steps into the light. Had she remained still I would never have noticed her. She’s clothed in a living gown of leaves and vegetation (revealing too – whoa!) and her pale skin, tinged ever so slightly green (and flawless – double whoa – I must remember to ask which skin lotion she uses) makes for a perfect camouflage against her botanical home.

Poison Ivy…


Her eyes, a deep shade of olive, sparkle in the moonlight, and her lips – mmmmmmm… daaaaaannmmm fine.

I’m mesmerised in an instant.

Sexy, idyllic, she’s everything I ever dreamed a woman could be, and more; the essence of feminine beauty – perfection!

The temptress moves in closer elegantly with a sway of her curvaceous hips.

“I knew you’d come, lover…I just hope you’re not too late…”

Her words are intoxicating and I struggle to find my voice…

“I’m here to take you in, Ivy. That’s all.”

Oh, who am I kidding. I’d let her have me any day of the week, and twice on Tuesday.

“If you come with me now, we can make this easy… otherwise Batman will be here soon.”

I hope she falls for my bluff, but a little part of me sorta hopes she doesn’t. I want to see where this is going…

“It’s one kind of man who can come up with a plan… and another who can see his plans well executed. I like that kind of man. I like you.”

She shimmies in even closer, licking her lips seductively – oh, those lips. I’m entranced by her every movement.

“It’s not too late, Ivy. I know you’re not really to blame for everything that’s happened. You can still turn over a new leaf (Ha!).”

“Did you truly believe your efforts tonight would get me to change?”

So much for the easy way out.

“We can make a deal, I give you my word…”

“I have no interest in your deals. No interest in you, in any of you, on the outside. This garden, this is Gotham now… its future. Reclaimed by nature, pure without mankind’s assaults. It is a sanctuary now, and I am guardian. I will not let it be defiled. Not by anyone.”

Her hypnotic trance breaks for a moment and I catch a glimpse of the harpy beneath. Then just as quickly, it returns and I’m in love again…

“I can give you relief, honey. Permanent relief. Sweet relief.”

Oooh yeah…

“Where have you been all my life?”

“Oh, you know… just hanging out with assorted weirdos – simpletons, dark lords, mad scientists, chairs and whatnot, but I’m here now. Better late than never.” (#Empty Chair Interviews)

“Some lucky boy’s about to hit the honey pot. I’ll bring everything you see here, plus, everything you don’t.”


Hang on a minute, was that a Batman & Robin quote?

Oh, hell no!

I’m sorry Uma Thurman, I love you, I really do, but I’m not letting that piece of garbage ruin my night.

I snap out of my trance in disgust at the thought of that abortion of a film and as I do, the garden suddenly loses its alluring charm. I gasp in horror at the discordant chaos surrounding me; once a beautiful sight to behold, now revealed for what it really is – abomination!

I look back at Ivy and recoil in disgust as I see that her seductive facade too has fallen. The spell broken at last, she appears before me as a twisted and inhuman demoness (have you ever watched ‘Little Shop of Horrors’? – kinda like that).

“You know you can’t resist me. No man can…”

“You wanna bet?”


[Pardon me while I get my inner-misogynistic on]


“Go make Gordan-fucking-Ramsay a better sandwich than I did, you whore!”


Her eyes flash a fierce shade of poisonous green. I think I just made a dreadful mistake.

She’s just a few footsteps from me now and brings a hand up to her mouth. I know what’s about to happen, but it’s too late! She exhales and a puff of spores blow into my face…

“Once you’ve been touched by poison ivy, you can never get rid of her. Never, Never, NEVER!”

I start to back up, but my every instinct is overwhelmed by her love-dust.

She smiles slyly as her spell retakes its hold over me.

“I hate men because of what they do. They clip. The prune. They make us remake ourselves. A Madonna. A whore. A partner. A foe. And we do it because we need, but mother nature doesn’t need… it takes.”

She approaches me slowly; sensually. If she kisses me this will be the end. I’m frozen; helpless; but don’t worry, Batman will save me, he always does. With one last burst of resistance I hit ‘send’ on my phone and wait for the inevitable…

I wait… and wait… nothing. I glance down at my phone – no signal… shit.

She’s mere inches from my face now. Her poisonous lips protrude for the final, sweet (oooooh so sweet) end, and then they interlock with mine – SCORE! (still counts).

Where is he… where is… The Batman?


I feel myself go limp with euphoric bliss as the fatal toxins do their work… could this be it… could this be the end of…

Empty Chair Interviews