Batman begins

I wake up laying on a soft verdant green field…a gentle breeze blowing on my face… and then my vision clears and I realise that I’m laying on the ‘carpet’ in the pub. The wind is the huff puff panting of a bulldog with a face like a kicked in trashcan sitting 2 inches away from my face. Casually I pick myself up off the floor and right my mushroom laden stool before sitting back at the bar again. Strangely I have no muck on my face… seems to be clean… though a little wet.

“So…er…. What exactly is in this” I ask, indicating the tankard.
“Izzlate” Says the captain beardy of the good ship alcohol.
“Izzlate?... interesting…er… locally brewed?” I ask, my voice raspy.
“NahludnorIzzlate…Is…Slate. Brewedinaweesockfullorocks.”
“Ah.. Slate” I vaguely remember the mad bastard on the box outside. “Brewed where?”

I am about to ask him where Innaweesockfullorock is when the door opens and a gigantic cow walks into the bar. It’s wearing a kilt.

The bulldog barks and the beardy bartender Says “Keep it down Batman! Ye stoopid mutt!, I told ye they’d come back for ye.”

I look at the Captain Beardy behind the bar, I look at the towering kilt wearing cow man in the door way and the rotund bulldog apparently named 'Batman'... and then eye the Slate suspiciously...