Weeeee! I'm back in the game of (sort of)!! As Dark Knight has spawned many permanent and immediately dedicated fans of Batman, I am a great example of this! And as Heath Ledger's amazing Joker has defined the Clown Prince's best persona, Heath's version is the one in this story! Yeah... Sorry if you have a different opinion on those things but you still have the choice to read and enjoy this story! As the author, I ask you to please give it a shot.
DISCLAIMER: Bob Kane and Bill Finger (discredited) own Batman and the Dark Knight was devised by Christopher Nolan. Oh, how I wish the Joker was my creation! HAHAHAHAHAHEEE!!
Minty Malice
Chapter 1: The Day
Huntley Dyson felt nauseous after the lovely Brandy had shoved him in jail for the sixth time. Was watching a beautiful woman go throughout her day really a crime? Huntley detested the law for being so ignorant. But he wasn't in the Gotham City Jail this time around. His repetitive watchfulness into women's lives had finally landed him in the nut house Arkham Asylum. But that was a mere name; a label to separate it out from the others like it. "Attachment disorder" that his doctor diagnosed him with a few years ago was just the same—a name for being a little more needy or skeptical of other people. The only difference Huntley expected in Arkham was padded walls to add to the peeling paint of the iron bars shielding his cell.
Huntley followed the grip of the officers bringing him to his new cell but his mind was shouting in protest. He never looked at anyone or talked to anyone when the officers threw him in his bubbled cell. Completely avoiding human contact was his mission for an entire week's time. The thoughts swimming and multiplying in his mind were too horrifying to share or project in a social pattern with anyone. Even the murders of Gotham. His sandy hair parted at his neck with the thanks of gravity as he bent to stare at the floor. Huntley's neck began to strain after the days and nights of focused eyes and sharp-sythed thoughts. The floor was his subject to hurl these pointed projectile-ideas into until the victims were gone.
The eighth day or so, a cackle thundered down the asylum's halls and into Huntley's ear. His intense trance snapped into alertness as a lithe, purple-suited figure stumbled in front of him with the accompaniment of two guards.
"Heeheeheeeheee, HAH," the madman continued to giggle.
The guards appeared as if they had gotten a migrane when the burly one sighed, "He's back again!"
The tall one slammed the door of his cell closed and rested against its frame. "Cahmon! Either stay or go, clown!"
The man behind the bars grinned a clownishly-painted grin that finally silenced his laughter. "I'll do what I want, toothpick! Don'tcha have somewhere to gooo...?" A gloved hand waved them away.
They hesitantly retreated, grimaces covering their faces. The clown, still standing, tackled the wall and slid down to a stop. Huntley viewed this spectacle intently while trying to fit some puzzle pieces together non-verbally. The strange stranger had opened one eye at a time like a chameleon and savagely licked chapped red lips. White face-paint smeared on his face unevenly making him ghostly. Huntley thought while this man had his eyes shut, the black paint slopped over them seemed like two black holes poking from a bony skull. But the skull had unruly, green-tinged twists springing from its head.
As Huntley gawked without considering his eyes boring through the new inmate, the man gingerly hopped up and patted unseen dust from his pantleg. "Joker," was the first word that was directed at Huntley. The Joker held a hand out then quickly noted his mistake. "Ooops, sorry!"
Although Huntley had previously taken in all of the Joker's profile, once he counted his physical presence, he was too far away. All five syllables the Joker had spoken to him instantly had him craving more. Most of all, if the bars had been torn down, he wanted to grab that hand and that body. This was the exact rush that led him to stalk women—an unquenchable infatuation.
