Post by jest on Sept 17, 2011 15:41:11 GMT -4
“…so take a slice”
3 weeks ago…
There he was, the murderous mountebank stood right in the middle of a deceased party of birthday invitees, the birthday girl, who ran away screaming her head off like a chicken was now poising herself anxiously in the bedroom with a kitchen knife waiting for him to come at her at any time; little did she know, he had hacked away at the guests furiously with the dull birthday cutter for her own good.
Before he brawled into the birthday scene he had caught from the corner of his eye as he was walking down Main Street that gleeful and bright glimmers of a over the top house party. Intrigued with the party (and all parties in general) he etched himself to the floor bay window to get a look inside to see the festivities.
There was a girl elatedly being tossed around the room from conversation to conversation with a gaudy fake tiara in her hair that read “21st”. It went on this way for a couple of minutes – eliciting a yawn from the crimson lips of the clown who was about ready to quit on spying on the party till the room became hushed as a group of friends emerged from the kitchen area with cake and candles on top. His eyes grew wide and his mouth formed a perfect circular O as he watched the triple fudge rippled cake enter the room. His stomach growled and his mouth began to salivate but he continued to wait outside as they placed the cake onto a table top and began singing the infamous birthday song.
Had he celebrated his birthday this year? He couldn’t quite remember. He had a habit of celebrating it multiple times of the year and usually forgot when they were.
Right when the cast of people were supposed to delve into the cake, one of them decided to start off with a party birthday roast. Joker was even more intrigued by the ingenuity of the roast idea. Usually people got dumb drunk and couldn’t remember their birthday party the next day.
Mostly jokes about age, looks, intelligence, past faux pas – were mentioned. They tickled his funny bone a bit. But when jokes about inadequacies of the year not being seized by the horns, languishing in one’s own mediocre comfort rather than reaching for the gold, and all around becoming too OLD to be capable of doing anything memorable anymore, hit the Joker in the gut like a ton of hard malicious bricks. To him, age was just a number (a number he didn’t quite remember anymore) and on the inside he felt like a million bucks (unless he ate too many milkduds the night before); he didn’t FEEL his age, or particularly ACT his age either. He looked around at a broken mirror in the dumpster, and though age didn’t particular effect his work, he was beginning to worry the comfort of his growing maturity was effecting his mind.
Had old age made him…placid? Maybe even (dare he say it?) BORING?!
The laugh lines around his mouth were prominent in the multiple reflecting faces that stared back at him. He looked the same…right?
He glared back into the buzzing and bustling room to find that the roast hadn’t ended. And the assault of old-age jokes were overflowing, and the ire in his blood began to bubble over, but what really broke the camel’s back was when one less than comedic male friend decided to pretend to be an old woman and arbitrarily stumble and fall clumsily and sleep at inopportune times. The laughs in the room fell on the deaf ears of the clown as he plunged himself through the window at the unsuspecting guests and ended up slaughtering the lot of them except the birthday girl.
Now here he was – Armani purple silk suit ruined with glass and pieces of blood and brain. But he did it for the both of them. It wasn’t funny at all.
He spruced himself up, wiping away the pieces to the wooden floor before proceeding into the next room to find the shivering woman unsteadily hold out the knife in front of her, pleading for her life, he rolled his eyes – he HATED when people pleaded for their lives. As mascara streamed down her white ghostly face he was reminded of the prideful rose, its own means of protection, the little thorn that stuck out about as defensively as a kitten claw. He swiftly grabbed the blade from her hand and she screamed wildly as she felt it slip from her grasp. He tossed it behind him before crudely grabbing her and tossing her onto the bedroom bed. She cried incessantly as she tried to crawl away, a futile effort as his long and fierce arms dragged her back into the bed and settled her upright onto one of the pillows and then he himself jumped in next to her.
Apparently, a much more drab thought must’ve entered into the delusional girl’s head as she tried to grab tightly onto her clothes and cover her lady parts. He looked over at her with his gleaming bright eyes and scowled a most viscous and disgusted frown of disapproval and disbelief.
“Don’t insult me,” He grumbled, and she held her breath when he spoke. “And to be honest, you’re not as good looking as you think and not worth the trouble.”
He heard her muffled cries as they both lay in the bed together without speaking. He put his gloved hands behind his head and crossed the ankles of his legs over each other. His long body barely able to comfortably fit in the petite bed.
“Wha-What do you w-want from ME?” She yelled out through heaved breaths. He yawned – and didn’t reply. She shivered with disbelief and growing anger– “TELL ME!” The Joker sighed, “What I want right now is for you to shut your trap before I cut your tongue off.”
She closed up like a clam after that and he lazily dozed off into a vague sense of sleep. He never sleeps, except involuntarily, and he wakes up not quite remembering what happened in the hours between work and when he woke up – he hates sleep. His eyes were wide open staring blankly ahead of him at the blank ceiling – not really awake or a sleeping – somewhere in the middle ground of his own mind as he floated outside of body like those weirdoes claiming to have inner-outer body experiences – but you never have real inner –outer body experiences until you’ve become an insomniac.
Hours, maybe minutes, passed till finally the Joker began to speak again. The sun had not yet crept up from its hiding place behind the earth – though the sky was becoming brighter with its impending arrival. “You’re old.”
The girl stirred, apparently falling into a quasi-state of sleep herself. “W-what?”
“I said you’re old. Your years of life on this earth are numbered. What are you going to do about it?”
“I-I…” She sniffled, her sense not completely back yet. “I don’t know – I don’t understand.”
“You are going to die in x amount of time. What have you done this year or in any of the years since your birth that’s worthy of being remembered? How much of an explanation do you need for this question? Do I need to teach you the dictionary?”
“O-oh.” She cowered at his biting remarks. “I-I really don’t know. I mean, I haven’t thought about it –“
“Haven’t thought about it?” The Joker sounded genuinely perplexed. “What kind of person are you that you don’t think about leaving a mark on the world before you die? What kind of pathetic little life are you planning to leave behind?” He snuffed, “Perhaps I should have killed you earlier to put an end to your meaningless little life.”
“NO!” A reverberating screamed pierced the clown’s ear and he cringed. “No, no no no! I do think about things like that! It’s just – just, I haven’t really started anything yet. My life is really just getting started – ya know? I can – get to do anything I want, whenever I want to, it doesn’t matter when, it just matters that you do it before you die.”
There was a pause and a single beam of golden light streamed in through the window. The Joker’s brain mulled around the crevices of his dark mind till finally, a beaming smiled crossed his white face. In the face of certain death – the girl had finally laid her most sincere thoughts out on the table and had given him the motivation and grandest idea he had had in a long time.
He rolled out of bed and started heading towards bedroom door.
“W-where are you going?” The young woman called out from bed.
“Leaving.” He opened the door. A jolly pep in his step.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
The Joker turned around and cocked a curious eyebrow, and laughed. “Kill you? My dear, there isn’t anything remotely funny about killing you.” He chuckled again before leaving the building, leaving the mess in the living room for the cops to take care of when he was already clear and out of the way.
Now…
It’s colder than Mr. Freeze’s Arkham Cell outside, but inside the routinely heated lavish bunker, not even a faint whisper of chill could penetrate it. In fact, the Joker lovingly sips at a fruity Pina Colada as he feels the rush of warm bubbles tickle his sides in his bathroom Jacuzzi; Billie Holiday is playing in the background somewhere (Summer Time – if you really wanted to know what song it was), and there is a slightest faint smell of blood lingering throughout the entire complex.
It’s his birthday today. And everything seems to be going according to plan.
The seven layer Devil’s Chocolate Cake is perfectly baking in its industrial steel oven. The party streamers of all shapes, sizes and colors were tediously placed through the bunker with care – completing the random yet effectual feel of festivity. The B-Level door to the room right below the complex was successfully sealed off to make sure no one got a peeky-peek before the party started. He had even set up a couple of classic games such as Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Donkey set up in the room, and of course, a chilled and delicate bottle of Champagne to top the evening.
But – where are all the guests? One might ask.
Well of course, from where he was, the birthday invites might take a wee-bit longer than usual but it was well worth the wait.
The letters that were sent out respectively had images of puppies and kittens on them surrounded by balloons with the words “YOU’VE BEEN INVITED! TO A BIRTHDAY!” He colored the furry animals with green and purple crayons and colored their eyes and teeth red. The inside read the meeting place at Arkham and the appropriate time for all his party guests to congregate. Unfortunately for them, he wouldn’t be attending. He decided, since it was his birthday after all, that he would make them play a little scavenger hunting game to find his whereabouts.
But why would these friends of his agree to such terms and conditions?
Easy, to each letter he inscribed personal debts and wishes that he said he could provide for them. Whether or not he was sincere about each and every promise was another story that wasn’t important – it was his birthday after all – that is the equivalent of a free pass. What was important was adding the P.S. at the bottom stating the nano-byte technology that had entered into their bodies as soon as they opened and read the cards. Thanks to hanging out with Lex Luthor long enough (as well as uninterrupted secret visits to STAR Labs) these funny little critters were able to flow right from the pores in someone’s fingers into the blood stream which from their they could do just about anything the controlling applicant (the Joker) wanted it to do. In this case, if people started becoming party poopers he could switch on the Super-Ebola factor on the little metal bugs and make their hosts internal organs turn to mush and watch them bleed from the inside out.
The scavenger hunt would be fun, yes indeedy-do, but really it would provide him just the small amount of time he needed in order to finish up his work.
He steadily lifted himself out of his Jacuzzi and headed towards the mantle that propped his soft and creamy purple robe. He went out of the room and into the party room, looked over any missing details, then proceeded to the B-Level door. He switched on the monitor that let him hear the sounds that were emanating from beneath the bunker. Groans, cries, and random mumblings statically rang into his ear drum. He smiled deliciously as he pressed the talk button.
“Papa’s Coming Hoooooooome!” He switched back on to listen to the sounds downstairs and was blissfully met with fearful shouts and shrieking madness. He clapped his hands together and opened the door. “Now let’s see who gets to go first!”