Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Feb 1, 2007 14:38:09 GMT -5
The Joker #1
The Jokes on You!
The Jokes on You!
Written by V.J. Petisi
Edited by Daniel Dyer
The rustle of papers on the desk had an annoying quality. The files said very little the good doctor didn’t already know. The patient exhibited signs of different psychological pathos at different times. He had originally thought they were mood swings, possibly due to being bi-polar or a like disorder. Though that didn’t explain the homicidal tendencies and the complete lack of remorse. Well he hadn’t spoken directly with the patient; he had studied his case for years. It had taken him a little over a week to get this interview, and he planned to make the most of it. He pressed the button on his tape recorder, and began to speak.
“Patient #27051939. Real name unknown. Also known as Jack Napier, Joe Chill, and Red Hood. Best known as the Joker. Suffers from acute psychopathic and homicidal tendencies. Suffered a cataclysmic event which resulted in the permanent scaring of his lower mandible and cheekbones, giving him the appearance of a permanent smile. The accident also dyed his skin a stark white and hair a dark almost crimson hued green. No determining factor for the mental deficiencies for which he suffers. He is highly aware of his surroundings, and surprisingly takes full account for his actions. Well in most, this would be regarded as completely sane; he does not in fact think he has done anything wrong. Well in fact he will be a perfect candidate for my book on certain mental disorders; I would be lying if I wasn’t frightened to meet him. This is Dr. Matthew Malone.”
The door to the small room opened and in walked the patient. His real name unknown, but Dr. Malone thought Bozo the clown was fine. His white face lit up at the sight of the doctor and he grinned. His teeth were whiter than his face, and he fixed his bright purple suit, walking up to the desk like he owned the place.
“Howdy doo, Doc?” he said as he forced his hand out in front of him. The doctor shook his hand and asked him to have a seat. “I’m the Joker. Dah duh duh Dahhhhhh!”
According to his file, he was one of the few patients allowed to wear something other than the Asylum orange. Apparently, he mutilated the hand of the last person who touched his suit.
“Hello….uhm…Joker.”
“Oh come on Doc, call me Mr. J. All my victims do,” he smiled.
“Well, have a seat,” said Malone.
“How nice of you. I believe I shall.”
The Joker picked up the chair and set it by the door. He pulled a large black marker out his coat and in huge letters wrote Joker on the back of the chair.
“There, now everyone knows it’s mine,” he laughed.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” said Malone.
“OK,” said Joker. “First there was darkness. Then a voice said let there be light.”
Malone couldn’t help but smile a little. The Joker was known for his charm and quick wit. The Joker rambled on for a minute about the dinosaurs and something to do with oil. The he paused.
“Did you mean my beginnings?” said the Joker.
“Yes. I did actually.”
“You want to know what deep psychosis causes one such as myself to commit the atrocities and horrors I commit. Well I won’t blame Society. Not like everyone else. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Go on,” said Malone.
“Besides who is this man we call Society? And why does everyone blame him? I mean he must have millions, just from the lawsuits for slander. Of course most is probably spent on therapy. Having to deal with everyone from a gang to Ted Bundy blaming him for what they cause. Of course he’s never been seen. I mean wouldn’t you be a recluse if everyone blamed you. Besides what kind of parents did this guy have? I mean giving him a name like that, they should be in here with the rest of the crazies.”
Joker laughed maniacally. His grin grew larger, which Malone quite honestly thought was impossible.
“So, you want the story of my life. Well before you get a wet in the underpants. My parents didn’t beat or abuse me. I didn’t kill small furry animals. Why would I? Well, okay a few rabbits and maybe a kitten or two. But really, who gave them the right to be so damn cute. I didn’t wet the bed, nor did I have dreams of killing people. I just am who I am.”
“So, are you saying you’re not insane?” said Malone.
The Joker sat forward in his chair. He stared at Dr. Malone for a while. Then he put his thumbs in his ears, and stuck his tongue out. He laughed loudly, then almost immediately became stoic and resolved.
“What do you think?” asked the Joker.
“ It really doesn’t matter what I think,” said Malone.
“Sure it does. You’re the Knights Templar, and I’m the Holy Grail. Right? I mean you could talk to anyone in here. That stupid guy, with the god awful weird relationship with birds. I mean really, I’m not here to judge his lifestyle but geez, get a birdcage or something. And what about the guy in here, who looks like a reject from a Godzilla movie? I bet ya some skin moisturizer would clear that right up. But anyway, you choose me. And let me tell you, my fans are very important to me.”
“Uhhummm…” Malone cleared his throat. “So I understand you’ve met someone in here?”
“Who?” said Joker. “Oh, you mean Harley.”
“Harleen Quinzel. Yes. She used to be your doctor.”
“Cute kid,” said Joker. “Great taste in clothes. But, a bit too needy if you ask me.”
“How so?”
“Well, just the other day I decided to kill her.”
“What!?”
“Seriously, I mean for one have you heard her voice? It’s like a chainsaw cutting through a beaver. And I know what that sounds like. My chainsaw is still being repaired. Secondly, she’s all like please don’t kill me Mr. J. Please don’t cut off my arm, Mr. J. I mean you obviously understand what I mean by needy. Although she is a woman, and well you know. Can’t live with em’, can’t stuff them in an oil drum and roll it down a hill in the Narrows.”
“So you don’t love her?” asked Malone.
“Of course I do, I love her enough to one day kill her, dismember the body and bury the parts near all the places we’ve been together. Ahhhhh, memories.”
Malone could feel the sweat forming on his brow. If the Joker wasn’t insane, Malone shouldn’t be a psychiatrist. A patient had never made him nervous, never made him afraid. The Joker was what he feared most, a patient who didn’t want to be helped. He needed this for his study, but in the end, would it be worth it?
“Let’s get back to my original question,” said Malone.
“Which was?” inquired the Joker.
“Why do you kill?” asked Malone, leaning over the desk.
The smile left the Joker’s face. Even with his permanent one, it was more of a grimace, than a smile.
“Because of morons like you. Because of the Arkham. Because no one. And I mean no one has the balls to shoot me in the head. They all wanna study me, or rehabilitate. Well quite honestly, I don’t want to be rehabilitated. I like the way I am. Mind you, the blood and gunpowder are a dry cleaner’s nightmare. And having to buy a secret base every other day costs booku dollars. But I generally like my job.”
“Your job?” asked Malone.
“Okay not really a job, but still. It’s what I do. I don’t wake up every morning and think to myself, why am I alive? I’ll bet you do. My life never wears on me. But I’ll bet you wake up and think what if I had been an astronaut like I wanted to. I don’t. I accept my life is here to cause others as much pain and anguish as I can. That’s half the world’s problem, no one ever says what they are thinking or act on their urges. That guy in high school who was dating the hot chick? Didn’t you ever want him dead? I did, so I killed him. Killed the hot chick too. She was really stuck up anyway. Not in high school. Last week, at the reunion. Boy, were they surprised to see me. He was the most surprised. He died laughing. Okay, well most of my victims do. But ask any one of them, the best way to go is with a smile on your face.”
“So you say it’s our fault?” asked Malone.
“Exactly.” answered Joker.
“Because we refuse to kill you?”
“Yep.”
“That really doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” stated Malone. “Wouldn’t that make us as guilty as you.”
“Guilt? Heh...you’re funny. Guilt is the layman’s excuse to not take action. I don’t suffer from the disease of guilt, Doc. Of course I’m insane, so I could be wrong.”
“Some doctors seem to think you’re not insane. That it is all a carefully crafted part you play.”
“Ah, the world is a stage and all that. Doc, we are all insane. I just don’t deny it. I don’t hide behind a bald head and stock options. I don’t fly around and try to dominate the world, in purple and green. Which by the way looks really bad on him, don’t you think? At least on me it brings out my eyes. You get my point?”
“No, not really,” admited Malone.
“What’s the craziest thing you have ever done?” asked Joker.
“I skydived once,” said Malone.
“Without a parachute?” asked Joker.
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“It might have something to do with falling.”
“Oh come on, Doc. It’s not the fall; it’s the sudden stop at the end. But that’s the difference between me and you. I don’t care. I’d jump because I want to. And by your standards that makes me insane. By mine it means, I jumped. So what?”
“So, you take risks?”
“They’re not risks to me. They are just a way of life.”
Malone looked at his notepad. He hadn’t written a thing. Of course he’d been dealing with people like the Joker most of his adult life. His file read like a B-movie from the sixties. The Joker had killed thousands of people that they knew about. Malone was sure there were others. He almost had enough of this maniac and he had barely spent 30 minutes with him. He had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure he could ask them, and compose himself. But he did have one last question. Apparently a touchy subject with the Joker.
“What about him?” asked Malone.
“Who him?” questioned back the Joker.
“The Batman?” asked Malone.
“Ohhhhhhhh……” hummed the Joker. “You are a brave one, aren’t you?”
The Joker giggled a little, but Malone could feel the atmosphere in the room change. The Joker was glaring at him curiously.
“You think I’m insane, yet you let a man dressed as a bat roam Gotham city, like it’s his own personal playground. You wanna talk about no bats in the Belfry. I am who I am; I don’t hide behind pointy ears or a cape. Mind you, the cape is really cool. But capes aren’t really my thing. As accessories, I prefer the fun stuff. Joy buzzers that electrocute, and flowers that squirt acid. That kinda thing. I mean seriously, Doc, the whole grim and gritty thing gets old. You need some spice. Some pizzazz. Some Chutzpah. I could go on all day.”
“So he doesn’t frighten you?”
“The old criminals are a cowardly lot card, is way overplayed. I mean, I’ve filled kiddy pools with acid. Should I be afraid? Maybe? But no, I’m not. Besides he wouldn’t have any fun if it wasn’t for me. He’s always so serious. He’s probably just a little boy who lost his momma, and needs to get revenge on such a cruel, cruel… OoooooooH!”
“What?” asked Malone.
“Nothin’', just thought of a cool way to escape. You’ll read about it tomorrow. Maybe I’ll come visit you.”
Malone shifted uneasily in his chair. He stared at the Joker with glassy eyes.
“What, Doc? You don’t think they honestly could hold me if I didn’t want to be held. This is where I come to relax. To hatch my next great plot. This morning I was thinking of maybe hitting School #9, but I changed my mind. I mean really, all those screaming kids. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Then I saw the newspaper this morning, and realized that Gotham doesn’t have an honest to goodness stuperhero. And before you say it, the spoiled sport in black doesn’t really have what it takes. I was thinking the Jokster, making you laugh since 1991. I'd have all kinds of cool gadgets like a boomerang that doesn’t come back, or a Charlie in the box. Or… oooops… gotta watch the copyright infringement. Anyway you get my point.”
Malone had enough. He looked at his watch and decided it was time to go. He could always come back tomorrow and talk to the Joker again. Oddly, he wanted to go home and hold his wife and children.
“Well, our time today is done,” said Malone. “I believe I have everything I need for now.”
“Well it’s a good thing. Got escapes to make, people to decapitate. Do you know how hard it is to get someone to take you seriously when you look like this? But usually a cuddly puppy and a pound of C-4 get my point across. We’ll be seein’ ya in the funny papers Doc.”
The Joker stood up and walked to the door. He picked up the chair he had written on earlier and turned to Malone with a smile.
“How much do you think I can get on EBay for this?” he asked. Then he laughed. The laugh ran down Malone’s spine. As the Joker left the room, he took the file and any notes he had made, and threw them in the wastebasket. He heard the Joker laughing all the way down the hall. As he left, he couldn’t help but think he saw the Joker in the back seat of his car the whole way home.
* * *