The Last Laugh

"Joker?" I asked amusedly, throwing the card on my desk. "That's what they call him?"

"THE Joker, actually," he corrected, and swallowed. Geez, this guy really shook him up.

"What's so bad about clown-boy?"

"Clearly you don't watch the news," Dr. Reynolds chuckled, but not his usual happy chipper chuckle. It was more of a 'this is not really funny, but I'm trying to light up the mood' chuckle. "He's a mass-murdering psychopath. They've captured him, and sent him to us. They thought that Arkham Asylum would be able to 'cure' him. I highly doubt it..."

"Do we have him in custody NOW?" I asked, rising out of my chair. He nodded his head.

"I can take you to see him now," he began, opening up the door behind him. "But you can't talk to him yet. We need to get you authorized."

"Sounds like a plan!" I hollered, giving him a thumbs up and a smile. "Just one question. Why do you need ME? I really don't have much experience."

"Because no one else will take the job."

"Ah." I said, as in, 'of course!'

The two of us DOCTORS (oh I HAD to just say that!) walked down the halls of the asylum to one of the many padded rooms that we had. Dr. Reynolds slid open the little door on the door that concealed a small window, and I peered into it. He was sitting in the far right hand corner, with a straight jacket wrapped tightly around him. He was staring straight at me, as if he had been doing this for hours on end. He looked bored. I took off my glasses and cleaned them. I put them back on. Yep, I wasn't imaging him. This man had white make-up all around his face. Around his eyes had been painted black, like a raccoon's. His mouth was painted up into a big, red smile. He had greasy, curled/waved hair that was slightly green. I can see why they call him The Joker.

"What has he done in the past?" I asked, intrigued by this strange man.

"He's robbed banks, planted numerous bombs both real and fake," Dr. Reynolds listed off. "And has murdered countless people. He seems to care for no one but himself."

"So he's dangerous?"

"Oh yeah."

"When will I get to meet him?" I asked, turning towards him and grinning.

"Tomorrow, at any time," he informed me, wiping the sweat off of his balding head.

"Perfect," I whispered so that only I could hear. This new patient was going to be an interesting start to my career.

All throughout college and high school, I was a gymnastics star. I loved doing flips and cartwheels and anything and everything. I won countless medals and trophies at competition. I even got an offer to be in the Olympics. But, for some strange reason, none of it ever made me happy. I've always wanted fame, but not like this. My college major ended up being psychology. The crazed and criminal mind just snatched my attention. I ended up getting an internship at Arkham Asylum, where I am now. I loved it there.

At my home in Gotham, I had a boyfriend named Jonathon. He also worked as a criminal psychologist, just in a different asylum than I. Well, he DID. That was until Batman killed his boss. He was handsome and mysterious; two qualities that I liked in a man. We saw each other as often as we could, and enjoyed each other's company.

As soon as I saw the sun go up, I jumped out of bed and began putting on my uniform for work. It was about seven o'clock, so the asylum was going to open in a half hour. Just enough time for me to get ready. I made myself a quick waffle, chugged a glass of orange juice, and grabbed my keys. Today, I was going to get the once in a lifetime chance to interview the most dangerous man in Gotham. Oh, and he also happened to be a clown. I was walking down the stairs from my apartment when my cell phone rang. It was Jonathon.

"Hello!" I greeted cheerfully.

"Hey," he said, a tad grumpy. "How can you be so bright in the morning?"

"Orange juice!"

"PLEASE don't yell," he groaned. I could almost imagine him rubbing his head. "I had a late one last night. That damn flying rat got in the way again."

"You better be careful!" I warned him. "One day he's gonna catch'ya!"

"He better not," he muttered. "Well, I've gotta go. Just wanted to say good morning to you."

"Good morning to you!" I said in a sing-song voice. He moaned again, and I heard the click that signaled he had hung up. I put my phone into my purse and skipped the rest of the way to the asylum.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinzel!" The guard at the door greeted. I smiled my greeting and showed him my pass that allowed me to enter the building. "Dr. Reynolds is waiting outside The Joker's room."

"Gotcha!" I said with a thumbs up. I walked the long halls until I spotted Dr. R waiting impatiently, jingling his keys. There were two guards next to him.

"You s-sure you're ready?" he asked nervously. I sighed.

"Yep!" I answered happily. "Jirk and Gub, open the door!"

"It's Girk and Jub," The one on Dr. R's right mumbled, but took the keys from the doctor anyways. He opened the door and he and his friend went inside.

"Come with me," the doctor instructed, and I followed him to a private, yet secure, room where The Joker and I would be talking. I wanted to look professional, so I waited until after he was in the room to enter. I had an empty brief case by my side and a cup of coffee in my free hand. MAN did I feel cool.

The Joker was sitting in a chair across from me, his hands in hand-cuffs. He was wearing purple pants, with a green vest that rested on top of a lavender dress shirt. He had a dark purple coat hanging behind him on his chair. He still had his make-up on, and I could see it was starting to fade away. I realized that his red smile was actually covering up a long line of scars he had on both sides of his mouth, forming a permanent grin on his face.

I put my brief case on the table and my Styrofoam cup next to it. I sat down in my chair and folded my hands.

"Hello," I said seriously. The man looked, once again, bored. "My name is Dr. Quinzel. I've heard many stories about you, Mr..."

"Friends call me Joker," he said, and then grinned. "Well, they would if I had any friends. EVERYONE calls me The Joker. You may, as well."

"Mr. Joker, then-"

"No." he cut me off severely. "Just Joker."

"Joker," I began, and he licked his lips. "What is your motivation?"

He just looked at me.

"For killing, I mean." I clarified.

"It's fun," he answered with shrug. "I get a kick out of it."

"I see," I said, furrowing my eyebrows. I was thoughtful for a few moments.

"You look troubled." he asked sincerely.

"Well, usually," I began, unclasping my hands and waving them in the air. "When we talk to a patient, they tell us their life long story about why they do, or did, what they did."

He leaned in across the table a little bit and whispered:

"I'm not your average patient."

"And I'M not your average doctor," I retorted, tilting my head down.

"Oh, I already knew that," he replied, lying back into his chair.

"Did you now?" I asked, cocking my eyebrows up. He licked his lips again. "Is that a habit for you?"

He stared at me again.

"I mean, when you-"

"I know what you meant!" He cut off, exasperated. "I just didn't feel like answering."

"Why not?"

"I ALWAYS get asked that question," he sighed, twiddling his thumbs.

"And what do you ALWAYS answer with?" I asked.

"Guess."

"What do you mean, guess?" I began to ask, but was cut off by my phone ringing. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Jonathon again.

"I'll be right back," I told The Joker, and stood up. Before I reached the door, he asked:

"Who is it?"

I turned to him.

"Guess."

I walked out of the room and into the hallway. I answered my phone.

"Yeah?" I asked. "Make it quick! I'm interviewing a patient."

"Look towards your left." Jonathon said, and I followed his instructions. He was leaning against a pillar with his phone in his ear. He didn't look very happy. I squealed and jumped into the air. I ran over to him and gave him a hug. He hugged me back, but he was tense. I stepped away from him and looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" I asked, grabbing his hand.

"I, I," he began stuttering, and rubbed his face in his free hand. "I have to go."

"What do you mean, go?" I questioned, swinging his arm side to side. "Go where?"

"Away from here," he continued, not looking me in the eye. I could tell this was tough for him. "The bat keeps messing me up. I've gotta leave, forever. This is probably the last time I'll see you."

"Ok then," I said sternly. "I'll come with you. This town was starting to get boring anyways..." I drifted off with thoughts of the man in the other room.

"You might want to put a hold on your patient for a while," Jonathon suggested, gazing towards the door. "You and I need to talk." I nodded sadly, and went to tell Jirk and Gub to put The Joker away for a little bit. The two went into the room and I returned to my soon to be ex-boyfriend.

"You can't come with me," he continued, not taking his eyes away from the door. "It'd be too dangerous for you. I need to be alone until things clear up."

I sighed.

"I understand."

I looked down at the ground. Jonathon put his hand on my chin and lifted me towards his face. We kissed. The door opened, and Jirk and Gub had The Joker back in his straight jacket. There was a body guard on either side of him. I didn't look at him, but continued to kiss Jonathon. MAN was I going to miss him. The psychopath walked right passed us; I wasn't even sure he noticed us at all. When they had disappeared, that's when we parted.

"I guess this is," I swallowed. "Good-bye, then. When're you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," he told me, and brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "I've got one last thing to do tonight, and then I'm gone."

"Alright then," I sniffed. He brushed a tear off of my cheek. I hadn't even realized that I had been crying. "I must return to my patient. So, good-bye, Jonathon Crane."

"Good-bye, Harleen Quinzel."