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tinhuvielartanis) wrote2009-06-21 11:48 pm
The Clown's Date
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rancid_rainbow's fault. I'm doing my level best to separate the various Joker's in my head. The Date Joker was always my fun Joker, so he was a little susceptible to the fun-lovingness aspect of Blog Boy, which didn't work on the J-erotica front. So I had to retire the Date Night series. But here I am writing another. I think I've successfully found a way to pull out my old J-ness without bringing the "little brother" aspect into it, so here's to more dreadfully delightful Date Nights, or at least one more.Here's what I have so far. Inspired in part by all my J-fandom homies, but dedicated particularly to
rancid_rainbow. It's been hella fun so far, as has almost all the Date Nights, "The Nun's Date" notwithstanding. Thanks to baxaphobia for lodging "My Sharona" in my head, thus the name of the clown ~ Ramona. You see where this is going and what J will be singing at one point in the tale. And thanks to lindsaybits, who sent me the song, which I'd lost when my last computer died. Love you peoples in a dedicated Sithly way!“I-yai-yai-yai just can’t wait,” he sang. “I yai-yai-yai got a daate!”
The iPod sat proudly in its deck of the boom box, which blared the Bay City Rollers, much to the Joker’s delight. He adored all sorts of music, but he had a particular affection for the Glam Rock of the 70s. The Bay City Rollers made him smile, well more than usual, that is.
He was already decked in his best tailored purple and green outfit, with his favourite plant-cell pattern blue-grey shirt. This was the same outfit he’d worn when he let the Batman pound the crap out of him in jail. Of course, it was also the same outfit he was wearing when he blew that same jail to a pile of rubble. Good times, yo. Good times.
“Whaddaya think-k Leopold? What kind of date should I have tonight-t?”
The hedgehog looked back at the Joker as if to say, “I really don’t care, clown. Give me a meal worm.”
The Joker smoothed the chaos that was his hair to one side and it promptly fell back into his eyes. He ignored it and moved across the room to the collection of cutlery sitting on his dresser. Not even having to look, he began placing each knife in its designated hidey-hole in his jacket, pants, vest, and overcoat. Even though he had no plans, and never did, the Joker was a great believer in being prepared. A large part of his preparation was the war paint and knife equipment. Now sufficiently equipped, he stared at himself in the full-length mirror of his scattered and cluttered room. There he stood, a multi-coloured deadly dandy with freshly-dyed olive hair and intense kohl-stained eyes. The Clown Prince of Crime, ready for a night on the town.
Jelly Roll Morton was playing “Mr. Jelly Lord” when the Joker pulled the iPod from the boom box and plugged in his ear buds. Bobbling his head to the cool piano jam of Jelly Roll, he exited the room and glided lightly down the steps. As soon as Sidney saw him the large, quiet man stood, ready to drive his boss wherever he wanted to go. The Joker raised a purple-gloved hand to him. Not tonight, Sid-dney. I’ll be on foot tonight.” Nodding, Sidney sat back down and returned to watching Beetlejuice on the boob tube. Exiting the mill house, the Joker jaunted smoothly to the groove of “Mr. Jelly Lord,” heading toward the Gotham night life of down town.
He almost skipped down the street, the Joker was in that good a mood. Ignoring the frightened stares and occasional points he garnered from the alarmed citizenry of Gotham, he immersed himself totally in the music that bubbled merrily out of his iPod and through the wires of his ear bud and into his ear canal. Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” was playing now. The Joker sang:
“There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man
“And bring him to the ground
“You can beat him, you can cheat him, you can treat him bad
“And leave him when he’s down
“But I’m ready, yes I’m ready for you
“I’m standing on my own to feet
“Out of the doorway, the bullets rip-p
“Repeating to the sound of the beat OHHH-hhh
“Another one bites the dust, another one bites the dust
“And another one gone and another one gone
“Another one bites the dust! HEEEY!
“I’m gonna get you too!
“Another one bites the dust!”
His singing alarmed the people in close proximity even more than they might have otherwise been, and this amused the Joker like nothing else had in quite a while. He rather enjoyed scaring people. That was the primary reason for the war paint, truth be told. He was hoping the war paint would scare his date when the Fright Time came. He’d rather have people respond in fear to his war paint than to the bare scars any day of the week. People who stare at others’ deformities pissed the Joker right off. Seriously. Rude fucking assholes, every one of them. They all needed to have their eyes popped out with a spork.
It took some time for him to make it to the downtown sector of Gotham, where every night was a party waiting to happen. Street musicians dotted every corner, playing all manner of songs from every musical genre. The Joker stopped his iPod and pocketed it and his ear buds, so he could soak in the scene. There were a number of reasons he’d not touched Gotham’s downtown and these bands were many of them. The Joker stood in place and just turned in a circle, taking in the beautiful chaos of it all. He took his favourite knife out and caressed the edge of the blade to the various beats of the songs clamouring for favour in his ears. He closed his eyes and just listened to the cacophony. The sonic joy was almost sexual.
Opening them again, the Joker let his eyes scan the crowds of people, huddled around the motley bands and solo artists. Some were dressed to the nines and others were lucky to have rags draped over their bony shoulders. Life was so unfair. Explosives were the Great Equalizer! Maybe he should forget about the artistic merits of the downtown sector and blow the whole damned place to smithereens. Pondering the greater merits of gunpowder, dynamite, and gasoline, the Joker didn’t even notice that he’d cut through the purple leather of his glove and into his thumb as he enthusiastically stroked the edge of his knife. Blood flowed all over his hand and the inside of his coat pocket. Cursing, the Joker produced a handkerchief and, removing the ruined glove, he wrapped his hand in the cotton cloth, cursing more as he did so.
“Hey, you okay?” came a voice to his left. He turned to see the source of the voice, his dark green hair falling into his eyes, adding to his sinister glare. When he turned to face the person who’d asked the question, she jumped a little when she saw his face.
“Do I look-k okay?” he asked the young woman who was obviously more than a little alarmed at the angry clown standing before her. What shocked him was that there was a clown staring back at him.
“Are you joking?”
“Do I look-k like I’m joking?”
“Well, kinda…yeah.” She smiled widely underneath her red and white grease paint, despite the tear painted underneath her right eye. How do you argue the semantics of joking with a clown? “How’d you cut yourself?”
The Joker showed her the knife, his smile more than a little menacing. “Oh, do you swallow them, juggle them, or throw them?”
“I…throw….them.”
“I just love knives. I juggle them myself. Those and balls, well anything really. Watch this.”
The Joker rolled his eyes and added more pressure to his knife wound. He tried to ignore the clown as she pulled out three multi-coloured plastic balls and proceeded to toss them deftly into the air. After a couple of minutes, she removed the flowered fedora from her head while juggling with one hand, and produced two more balls, enthusiastically adding them to her act. “Juggling is my specialty,” she said, tossing the balls high into the air and catching them behind her back. “You sure you don’t juggle? What’s your clown expertise?”
The Joker couldn’t believe this bozo actually thought he was a clown. “Juggling is too much like planning,” he said, he voice a whining buzz. “And my experteeese is putting smiles on people’s faces.”
That last bit the Joker thought was particularly ingenious and he grinned at his own cleverness. The clown smiled back at him. “I can understand why that’s your expertise! You have an infectious smile and you’ve certainly done your job with me.” She popped her plastic props back into her fedora and scrunched it back onto her head. The Joker watched her with a budding interest. The clown was certainly pretty underneath all the paint. Her hair was short and blonde, her eyes a pale grey. She was short and very skinny, seeming overly weighted down by the old-timey men’s suit she wore and the godawful slap shoes that added to the cliché for which she was obviously struggling and achieving to succeed. The grey fedora, two sizes too large for her tiny head, but needing to be so in order to hold her balls, sported a large plastic daisy right on the front. The Joker was certain it was one of those flowers that squirted water in your face as it would fit right in with the rest of this clown’s motif. “So what’s your name? Your real name, that is. Not your clown name.”
“You firrrst…”
“Okay, fine. I’m Ramona. My Inner Clown, though, is Tramples.”
“Tramples the Clown?” the Joker repeated, smirking and clicking his tongue. “Is that why you’re crying then? Getting trampled-d too much?”
Ramona laughed. “No, dickweed! It’s a kind of an homage to the Little Tramp, Charlie Chaplin?! So, how about you? Name?”
“I’m ahh, I’m Jay. Some call me Joker.”
“Like the criminal?” Ramona laughed harder. “You might want to change your career name, dude! I mean, damn. The Joker has done some serious damage to career clowns everywhere, but especially here in Gotham. You don’t want to go around emulating that goon.”
The Joker snarled just a little, and sucked air in through his teeth. This conversation had become a little unappetizing. Maybe he should just stab her right here in public. Sometimes the best cover in the world was a large crowd.
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...
xD
I'm just kidding.
Im cited' !
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I say good on separating your internal 'J's. From starting to get into comics, I see him a little different depending who was writing him and whatnot, even though he still remains 'Joker'. All these J's affect me differently from "Awww...isn't that cute?" to "ZOMG! What IS that??" Love the clown!
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