Your Frown Is My Umbrella

“You know,” he said in a strangely thoughtful tone as he stared at the tabletop, “something tells me you know an awful lot about bullies, hmm?” He licked his lips. “The ones that make fun of lisps, and call people names.” He nodded. “Hmm, yeah. Like Lisping Libby...”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers and she cringed. “How did you know my –”

“Yeah, some people would say I’m a bully,” he interrupted. “But, you see, I have a problem with that. Deep down, every bully is a coward. I’m not. Bullies need to make little people feel even smaller just so they can feel a little better about themselves. So, so they give the widdle kiddies wedgies and take their lunch money.” He licked his lips and nodded before continuing. “Most of the criminals in this town are bullies. Yeah. Most of ‘em kill for money, steal for money, and that’s all they want. To them, it’s all about the money.”

His eyelids twitched strangely, and as his speech grew more emphatic he practically forgot that Doctor Elizabeth Riley (Lisping Libby) was still in the room.

“But I’m not like them. No, those cowards kill ‘cause they’re scared. They take out the little guys when their backs are turned, ya’ see? They do it to make themselves feel powerful. They do it to feel big. But I’m not like them,” he repeated. “I don’t kill for money, or, or glory. When I kill…” he paused, flicked his tongue across his lower lip and smirked, “it’s funny.”

His eyes were staring curiously at the shaking doctor who held her pager in a trembling manicured hand.

Her eyes were staring in horror at the homicidal clown who had managed to worm his way out of the restraints of his straightjacket.

“I’m only here because the people in this town don’t seem to get my sense of humor,” he continued, waving an arm in the air and forgetting entirely that his arms were supposed to be restrained. “I mean, sometimes you just gotta’ laugh, you know? Forget everything else and just focus on the funny stuff.” He grinned. “Like a clown.”

Her mouth hung open and her large green eyes bulged behind her glass lenses. She was speechless. To say she was scared would be an understatement. Her entire body was frozen stiff, and Joker couldn’t even tell if she was remembering to breathe.

He eyed her pager curiously, noticing that her finger was resting numbly on the call button.

“What’s wrong, Doc?” Joker asked innocently, resting his elbows on the table and propping up his face in his hands. “You look a little pale. Is it the scars?”

He ran one of his rebelliously freed fingers over his scars and nodded sadly. “It’s always the scars. And here I thought you were the type to understand. You see, I know what it’s like to be teased and humiliated. Kids are cruel little bastards. Always picking and poking and making mean jokes. But you know all about that. Don’t you, Libby?”

She blinked twice and her lower lip twitched. “Uh –” was all that escaped her quivering lips.

“Ya’ see, people like us gotta’ stick together, right? They call us losers, and, and freaks, and –”

“I’m nothing like you,” she whispered hoarsely, finally able to vocalize her opinion. She cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m not.”

The pager was now resting on the tabletop beneath her limp fingers.

“What makes you so sure?” Joker pressed and waved his hand between them for emphasis, purposefully letting the jacket’s long sleeves flap obnoxiously against his forearms. “What makes you and me so different?”

It was a ridiculous question, and he knew she wouldn’t think of it as a rhetorical one.

“Everything,” she whispered.

When her eyes began to tear up, he knew he had hit the sweet spot.

“So tell me, Doc, why haven’t you pressed the little call button yet. Hmm? Afraid they’ll say I told you so and make you go back to answering phones all day? Afraid they’ll ship ya’ back to the office so you can get back to photocopying memos, and getting your ass slapped by your sexist pig of a boss –”

“Shut up!” she cried and covered her ears. “Just stop it already!”

“Or maybe they just need their little helper back. I mean, who else is gonna’ fetch their morning lattés? And their dry-cleaning? They’re probably all in a tizzy right now, waiting for you to fail and come crawling back with your tail between your legs...”

“I’m a doctor! Not an assistant!” she insisted. “Shut up!”

“But do they know about your dirty little secret? Hmm? Do they? Do they know what you did to get in here, with me?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head in horror. “No,” she mouthed.

Joker grinned. He didn’t really know any of her secrets, but it sure was fun making her think he did. He leaned forward and she leaned back, matching his move in perfect sync almost as though there was some sort of repelling magnetic force between them.

“Push the button, Libby,” he taunted. “Push the button and let them say I told you so. Go on. I dare you.”

Her mouth hung open and he watched her tongue flop up and down as she tried to form some sort of response. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If Doctor Riley pushed the button, that would be that. Having made no progress, she’d be relieved of this case. Everyone who told her she was wasting her time with The Joker would be proven right, and they would lavish her with enough I told you so’s to last the rest of her life.

If she didn’t push the button, there was no telling what would happen. Joker was no longer restrained, and he could kill her without thinking twice.

Joker stood up from his seat, and Doctor Riley cowered in hers.

“Stay back,” she murmured weakly, “or I’ll call security.”

Joker sighed and hobbled over to her side of the table, shrugging off the straightjacket as he did so.

“Ha, I told you. I want you to push the button. So go ahead,” he replied loosely, stopping behind her chair. “Make my day.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered weakly as he grabbed her right arm.

He pulled her up from her seat and she shivered violently when he began tugging the sleeves of his straightjacket up her arm. Her pager fell to the floor with an eerie thudding sound that echoed dully off the yellow walls.

“Upsie daisy,” he mumbled to himself, chuckling as he lifted her other arm and pulled it through the sleeve.

She whimpered pathetically and struggled only slightly. She was too afraid of what he’d do if she made a futile run for door that was locked for security reasons. No one would ever have guessed that this sniveling woman had been shouting threatening profanities at him less than five minutes ago when she thought he was still restrained. Joker wrapped her arms around her chest and brought them behind her back.

“This might be a little uncomfortable,” he told her sweetly. “Take it from a guy who’s worn more straightjackets than pajamas.”

He giggled at his lame joke and put the finishing touches on the restraints. He gave her arms a playful tug to ensure it was secure and then rested his chin on her shoulder.

“You know,” he whispered huskily in her ear, “some men prefer a woman in kinky little handcuffs. But I, I find these jackets much more…appealing.”

A deep shudder bolted up her spine and he could feel the quiver against his chest. This only made him giggle. He pushed her back into the chair and gently tugged her glasses off of her face for no reason. He examined them briefly before setting them on the table and bending down to pick up the pager.

Humming a tune that existed only in his head, he sat with his shoulders hunched while Doctor Riley sat rigid in her chair, sobbing silently. Her chest shook with each breath, and Joker decided he didn’t mind that she wasn’t screaming. There would be plenty of time to catch up on all the screams he had missed out on.

He leaned back in his chair and pressed the emergency call button on the pager. One of the little lights beeped green, and Joker continued to hum a cheerful little circus ditty. (Doo-doo-dododododo-doo-doo-doooo…) Step three; complete. He’d be out of here in ten minutes flat.

He had been in this place for one long month, and Gotham was no doubt going through excitement-withdrawal without him there to give their boring everyday lives a good ruffle. Joker was going to have to make up for lost time.

The door swung open and Ted stood in the doorway. He scanned the small room with a serious look on his face, but that look was quickly replaced by a smirk when he saw Doctor Riley in her chair.

“That’s gotta’ be a new record,” Ted chuckled as he pocketed his own pager. “What was it? Five, ten minutes?”

Joker simply nodded and gave Doctor Riley a regretful smile. “Sorry hun. It looks like we’re out of time for today.”

He sprung up from his seat while she simply watched. Afraid to make a move or sound, she settled for holding her breath.

“It’s been fun, sweetheart. Really, it’s been a blast. But I’ve got buildings to blow, people to kill, plans to dismantle, you know. But maybe you’ll get lucky and we’ll see each other again real soon. Hmm?” He gave her rosy cheek a pat that was less than playful before heading towards the door. “Oh, and you might want to consider quitting your day job. This place is full of weirdoes!”

He cackled loudly, followed Ted out, and slammed the door behind him. He left her there to marinate in her own failure. He hadn’t driven her to insanity, but he had rattled her brain enough to ensure that next time, she’d think twice before biting off more than she could chew. Not only did she make absolutely no progress with his case, but she had turned off the tape recorder, made the ‘guard’ leave, and then ended up restrained in the prisoner’s jacket while he and his goony guard made a break for it.

No doubt, she was devastated. But she should have felt at least a twinge of gratitude. He hadn’t killed her. Why? He just didn’t feel like it.

God have mercy on whoever he did feel like killing. The most violent thing Joker had done during his stay here had happened when the guards refused to give him access to his makeup. He was so angry that he ended up biting off one of the fat pig’s fingers. Needless to say, they gave him back his greasepaints faster than you could say ‘ouch’. Now, he’d been locked up for thirty long days and had a lot of pent-up chaos to unleash.

The Joker was back in the game, and within the next twenty-four hours he was going to meet someone who would turn his game upside down, inside out, and backwards.