The Dentist's Date, part 1
Feb. 27th, 2009 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisThe Dentist’s Date
The employees left out the back door of the modest strip mall located in a suburban area of
It was a small practice, with an office manager, a clerk, a dental hygienist, one assistant, and Dr. Romello, the dentist. They were always busy, but never so much that they never were able to meet the 5:30 deadline. There were no surprises at North Gotham Dental. And that’s what the Joker loved about it. There was something poetic about a child of chaos basking in the warm glow of unyielding monotony. How someone as beautiful as Dr. Romello opted to embrace such a boring existence baffled the Joker. He pondered her large brown Italian eyes and that insanely long brown-black hair she insisted on incarcerating in a tight bun on the back of her head. He mentally explored her ivory skin and wondered what it would feel like to test the weight of her perfect, natural breasts in the palms of his hands. The twitch he felt in his pants was all the proof the Joker needed that this Date Night was going to be glorious.
He sat across the street from the back of the strip mall, slouched with his arms stretched out and his legs spread right in the middle of a park bench, taking up the entire bench with his body language. His head was lowered so that some of his green hair hung in his face with a greasy presence, but his stare burned a figurative hole through that hair as he watched Dr. Romello’s four employees leave one by one.
“Hey,” someone said to him, intruding on his predatory ritual. The Joker lifted his head and turned his eyes in the direction of the voice. There stood a boy of about twelve, rolling back and forth on those obnoxious little Heelie shoes. “Hey, are you a real clown?”
“Are you a real boy, Pinocchio?”
“Ha-ha, funny,” the kid said, using that all-knowing sarcastic tweenie voice taught so diligently on the Disney Channel. “I was wondering if you could move it over a little. This is a bus-stop bench and I’m supposed to wait here for my bus. I’d like to sit down. So what’s it gonna be, Chuckles?”
“Why don’t you roll home on those idiotic Heelies and save yourself the bus fare, little boy?”
“And why don’t you move your purple ass over, old man?”
The Joker laughed and moved to accommodate the brat, who rolled over to the bench and flopped down languidly. He glanced at the Joker sidewise, his eyes narrowing. “So what’s with the clown get-up, Chuckles?”
“Don’t call me that,” the Joker growled. “Just…don’t-t. And it’s not a get-up, little boy, its war paint.”
“Well, I think it’s stupid, Chuckles.”
The Joker casually withdrew a knife from his breast pocket and rammed it into the kid’s face, killing him instantly. It was a risk, since the sun had yet to set and Suburbia was famous for having eyes everywhere, but it was a risk well worth taking. As they say in the South, the kid needed killin’. The Joker was all too happy to oblige. He swiftly withdrew his blade from the brat’s mouth and deposited it back into his breast pocket. He’d worry about the blood stains later. For now, it was time to relocate so the kid could be found alone. It wouldn’t do for the dead little fucker to be found sitting next to one of
Moving like a dancer, the Joker sidled away from the bench and into the adjacent cluster of pine trees. The view wasn’t as good, but he could still see the dentist’s office, could still see when Dr. Romello stepped out, locked the door to her practice, and made her way to her sports utility vehicle. Almost as soon as he’d ducked into the pine thicket, the Joker emerged and trotted across the street to the strip mall’s back parking lot.
“Excuse me, Dr. Romello?”
The dentist looked up from opening her car door and shock rippled across her face at the sight of the man approaching her. Her professionalism took over and she said, “May I help you?”
“Hum, yes,” the Joker said, bringing himself to a halt about two feet away from Dr. Romello. “Can you tell me what causes such atrocious yellowing of the teeth?”
And he grinned a big grin, showing how yellow his teeth were.
“I’m sorry, are you a client?” Dr. Romello asked, ire slipping into the tone of her voice. The work day was over. It was 5:30.
“Welllll, no, I’m not. But I was hoping you might-t take a split second to help a guy out.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. – ….”
“Ochre. Jay Ochre. That would be moi.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ochre, but we’re closed for the day. If you’ll call my office in the morning at 9 or after, we’ll be happy to set you up an appointment.”
“Appointment? Just to tell me about yellow teeth? How ‘bout a date instead?”
“What?”
“I said-d,” the Joker replied as he grabbed Dr. Romello by the back of the neck and stuck a knife in the corner of her mouth. “How ‘bout a date instead? Herrre’s what we’re gonna do, my little Tooth Fairy. You’re gonna get in this gas-guzzler of yours and I’m gonna get in right beside you. You’re then gonna give me the keys and I’ll drive us to my place where there’s fondue and cheesecake waiting there for us, the happy couple.”
Dr. Romello moved to kick the Joker right in his crotch, but he dodged her with an almost inhuman speed. Before he could regain his hold on her, the dentist pulled a can of mace from her purse and sprayed it, hoping it hit home. It did partially, making contact with the corner of the Joker’s left eye. He cursed and wiped at his eye furiously. When he did, Dr. Romello bolted. Again, though, the Joker’s speed was uncanny. He chased after her, easily catching up with her and grabbing her right arm, spinning her around. Kissing her hard, the Joker laughed against her teeth, and then pulled away from her. He began walking her back to the SUV.
“Now…where were we? Oh, yes: you were about to give me the keys to that pollution-mobile you tool around town in. Then it’s fondue and candles and cheesecake, oh my! Oh, how I love Date Night! Come along now, my feral pumpkin seed.”
They got into Mary Romello’s Lincoln Navigator and the Joker sat behind the wheel, enjoying sitting in the lap of luxury. He noticed the iPod resting snugly in its adapter on the dashboard. “Ooo, a music lover, I see. What’s on the Pod, Dumping?”
He turned the contraption on and raised his kohl-stained eyebrows in surprise when he heard My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult. “Why, I never would have thought it! I’d pegged you for a Wagner fan, but here we have the most appropriate song ever for our ride across town: ‘Sex on Wheelz!’”
And the Joker began to sing along. “I’ll turn you on like a tiger baby, hard body, motor city, love life. I’ll take you for a ride down the mindway baby, be my little human sacrifice. Do my kisses burrrrn? Do they take your breath? You’ve got a lesson to learn now: I’m the kiss of death! Sex on wheelz, sex on wheelz, sex on wheelz, sex on wheelz! His-tor-reee is written by winners baby, so let’s make a little of our own tonight. If you’re thinkin’ my idea of fun is a drag, then you’ve never been to paradise. Do my kisses burrrrn? Do they take your breath? You’ve got a lesson to learn now: I’m the kiss of death! Ooo-hoo-hoo!” He laughed, leaning over to Dr. Romello and licking his lips. “Ah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hee-hee-hee!”
For Dr. Romello, the ride was interminable.
The Joker cut his eyes in her direction and plastered a genuinely merry smile on his painted face. “Another one of my favourites. Oh, Mary, if your shuffle is any indication, you and I are soul mates. So, whaddaya say, Babysnakes. Are you keen for a dollop of fondue?”
“How do you know my name, you crazy bastard?”
“Don’t call me crazy… Just don’t. Don’t do that. Get your ass out of this car and let’s get a bite to eat before the romancing commencesss. Come on. Do it. Nowwww.” The Joker leaned over and opened Dr. Romello’s door, then nudged her with a small pistol he’d drawn out of one of his many pockets. He followed her out of the SUV, snatching up the iPod on his way out. Who knew what treasures were buried on this rectangle of technological magick that he’d yet to hear? Even though Dr. Romello’s status was still in question, there was no doubt in the Joker’s mind that the iPod was a definite keeper.
The parking lot had long been left to nature’s devices. The grass had burst through in countless places, allowing for tall weeds to pop out all over the crumbling concrete. On one side of the deteriorating lot was a dilapidated old building with most of the windows broken out. The Joker guided Mary toward this building.
“This doesn’t look like a place where we’d find fondue and cheesecake,” Mary ventured, sipping once more from her bottomless well of courage.
“Well, looks can be deceiving. Take my constant smillle, for instance,” the Joker drawled. “You don’t seriously think that I’m always this happy, do you? But that’s a story for later, Sugar Smack.”
He opened the door to the dingy building and said, “After you.” The Joker took Mary’s elbow and literally slung her into the dark recesses of the structure. He followed with a languid gait and took her arm again when he heard her begin to step away from him. “Whoa there, now, Dr. Romello. Hold your horses while I close the door. As my Granny always said, ‘Don’t leave the front door open. What, were you raised in a barrrrn?’”
The Joker closed the door behind them and escorted Mary down the hall to a lighted room. He opened the door to this room with a charismatic flair, bowing a little to invite Mary in. “Welll-come to my humble abod-de, Dr. Mary Romello. Fine dining awaits! By candlelight even!”
Mary eased herself into the room and found herself in a large, well-kept apartment with plush furniture and shag carpet. There was a picture on the wall of the living room of the Cheshire Cat, lying on a tree branch, smiling his knowing smile. Beyond was the dining area with a small round table decked in a satin white cloth and matching place mats. In the middle sat a large fondue pot giving off the inviting aroma of good food. Her stomach growled despite Mary’s fear.
The Joker laughed, a quick cackle that became a slower, throatier chortle. “Something tells me that somebody’s hun-greeee,” he sang, hugging Mary to him in a playful manner. “The bathroom is though that door if you want to – ah – freshen up.” Dr. Romello took the Joker up on his offer of a bathroom break and headed in the direction in which the Joker had pointed. When she went into the bathroom, Mary was sorely disappointed. The room had no window! She’d hoped to squeeze herself out of the bathroom window and go find help before the Joker even knew she was gone, but no. It looked like Dr. Romello’s luck was consistently bad on this particular evening.
Looking around, Dr. Romello found a bathroom that was spotless. The towels were folded neatly and placed on a clean rack hanging on the wall near the bath tub. A stack of wash cloths sat next to them. Taking up one of the wash clothes, Mary turned on the hot water and soaked the cloth. She wrung it out and pressed the hot cloth to her face, allowing the tears to flow into the warm cloth.
“Oh Pomegranate!” The Joker called from the dining room. “The fondue is ready. Hurry your sweet little ass out of there so we can tuck in.”
Mary wiped her eyes with the cloth and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eye makeup was smudged, making her look a little like her captor. She dabbed at her eyes with the cloth, cleaning up the worst of it, then threw the cloth in the laundry basket next to the door as she left the bathroom. Returning to the outer rooms, Mary found the Joker sitting at the dining table holding a fondue fork like it was a weapon. He smiled broadly.
“There you are. If my bathroom had a window, I would have begun worrying ages ago, you were gone so long.” He stood up and walked around to Dr. Romello. “Please have a seat, Mary.”
Dr. Romello sat down at the dining table and the Joker helped to scoot her chair in. He then returned to his own seat and took his fondue fork in hand again, smiling sidewise and licking his lips like a snake tasting the air. “Now…..Our fondue for the evening is a heady cheese mixture, perfect for bits of chicken and crusty bread. If you’ve never engaged in fondue, the protocol is to stab your food with this here fork, then dip it into the fondue here in the pot. You then place the food in your mouth without your lips or teeth touching the fork. Double-dipping is also a no-no. We don’t want to spread our dirty mouth germs around, now do we, my dental diva? So…enjoy!”
Dr. Romello sat frozen in her seat, staring at the Joker as the incomprehensibility of the situation washed over her. It had dawned on her who this person was and to be tutored in fondue etiquette by a psychopathic criminal in clown makeup was a little too much for Dr. Romello, who thrived on order, to easily comprehend.
“Oh, we also have little squares of cheese. There’s nothing better than cheese on cheese!” The Joker exclaimed, stabbing what looked like mozzarella cheese with his utensil and dipping it into the fondue pot. She watched as he placed the dripping cube between his yellow teeth, pulling it off the fork, then chewing enthusiastically. “Hmm…that’s good! Go ahead, don’t be shy! Eat! Drink! Be merry!”
Dr. Romello took up her fondue fork while the Joker poured her a glass of white wine. She chose a square of crusty bread and soaked it in the cheesy mixture in the pot. Taking the bread in her mouth, she chewed carefully and swallowed. It was very good. She wondered where the Joker had gotten it because, surely, he hadn’t prepared this himself! But she decided not to ask. What would be the point? Instead, she opted to let him know that she knew who he was. “Jay Ochre. Nice place on words. What sort of game is this you’re playing, now? I have no connection to the Batman or to the mob, so why don’t you just let me go?”
“Clever girl!” The Joker clicked his tongue and laughed. “But can you be certain my name truly isn’t Jay? You never know. You just..never..know… As for why I brought you here, I already know you have no connection to any of those unimportant dregs. I picked you because I needed a date for fondue night and you were the perfect candidate. I even cleaned up my – ah – crib-b so as to impress you and your overactive sense of orderrrr-li-nessss. Try the chicken.”
Dr. Romello tried the chicken, finding it to be just as tasty as the bread. It was juicy and warm, complementing the cheesy fondue perfectly. Before she realized it, Dr. Mary Romello had enjoyed an ample meal of fondue during a relaxed conversation about movies, politics, and everything in between, and she actually found herself looking forward to a bit of cheesecake to finish things up. Maybe this Joker character wasn’t as bad as the media had chalked him up to be.
When the Joker returned with coffee and cheesecake, Mary smiled and thanked him. She took a bite of the cheesecake and nodded with approval. “Oh, this is very good!”
“Yes, it’s New York-k style, which is the only kind of cheesecake there is, as far as I’m concerned. That French-style cheesecake is dreck-k. Whoever came up with it needs to have their heart pulled out of their ass with tweeeezersss.”
Mary laughed at this visual and the Joker eyed her over a fork full of cream-cheesy goodness. “What’s so funny?” He asked.
“That visual you just gave me, it’s hilarious. I can see now why they call you the Joker. Your sense of humour is delightful.”
The Joker turned his head a little and narrowed his eyes, looking at her for a long moment. He was trying to figure out if she was being honest or facetious. After a few seconds of studying the light in Mary’s eyes, the Joker realized that she was being sincere and exhibited no malice in her comments. So he slowly allowed himself to smile at her, along with her, and their laughter rang throughout the apartment.
They finished their cheesecake and coffee, and the Joker asked Mary if there was anything else she needed or wanted. She said “No, thank you. Even though you kidnapped me and scared the hell out of me, I’ve really enjoyed myself, despite myself. Thank you…Jay.”
“Well, I’d noticed that you seemed a tad militaristic, what with the way you run your business, so I thought I might shake things up a little bit. There’s nothing an agent of chaos loves more than to turn some uptight bitch’s world completely upside down.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh Mary, let’s not get all pissy over a couple of silly words. Tell me, now, do you like your sex vanilla or just a little on the swirly side?”
Dr. Romello stood abruptly. “I’m leaving,” she said, the command in her voice commendable, considering she was essentially a hostage.
“No. You’re not-t….” The Joker said, not moving. He watched her marched out of the dining room and across the living room to the door. He watched her fumble with the door knob and work desperately at the locks. He smiled a vicious smile when she turned and eyed him with that perfect trapped expression that he relished so very much when he’d seen it on other people’s faces. “As I said, my sweet little Boston Bean, you’re not going anywherrrre.”
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 04:28 pm (UTC)That kid on the bench just couldn't shut it could he? Joker is what he is so, true to his nature, he did his thing. I really can't fault him for that after all. ;) Plus kids these days have no respect for their elders. They just don't.
Yeah, I always felt that Joker would just love to take some tightly wound woman and loosen her up a bit. Dr. Romello isn't improving her chances if surviving this by any means. Insulting this man is never the way to go. Hell, being nice to isn't the way to go to ensure survival, but it's always good for making him momentarily happy.
Very entertaining thus far and now I want some cheese in the worst possible way.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 08:12 pm (UTC)