Give Me a Smile

I had always imagined The Joker’s place as brightly lit, filled with stuff, filthy. It would have suited his personality better. Funny how the good guy is part of the dark, and the madman seems to crave light and attention.

But The Joker lived in the Narrows, in a cramped apartment building. He had a bed in one corner with a tattered suitcase under it. There was even a toothbrush and makeup scattered around his bathroom sink. It was weird, almost unsettling, to think of The Joker doing something as mundane as brushing his teeth.

While I was standing there he came up behind me, pressed a knife to my ear. I yelped and jumped, which made him laugh. “Now...now, Quinn. Quinn, you’re gonna have to stay with me, kay? Just consider this, ah, a bit of a stop on our road to trust, eh?” “What?”

I was more confused than scared for a second, until he slipped a handcuff over my wrist and clasped the other one to the bed. “Sorry, but, eh, can’t let a princess like you escape. No. No. Wouldn’t do.” He patted my cheek lightly.

“Now, sit.” I did. I’ve always been pretty obedient. The Joker left to the kitchen and I heard a clatter of pots and pans with the occasional mad chuckle. I did my best to get out of the cuffs while he was gone, but all it did was make my wrist raw.

He came back with food and eyed me. “Quinn, look what you did to your wrist! Naughty naughty!” The Joker handed me a bowl of cereal. Before I could even get a taste he jumped up and pulled it from my hands, sending milk sloshing onto the floor. “Hey! You-” I stopped when I remembered who I was about to insult.

“No, NO. I’m not ready for dinner yet! I need to wash off my face! Hehe, can’t forget that!” He scurried from the room and turned on water.