A/N: I haven't written anything in a REALLY long time and ended up blasting right into with a quick 'Joker has a cell phone' idea. I don't own the character!
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BZZZ.
He didn't care much for cell phones, what with the annoying vibrating each time he got a phone call. Nearly every time the damn thing went off it forced him out of his thoughts, pulling him back to reality with each buzzing noise, only to answer it and discover another one of his worthless henchman had no idea what the fuck they were supposed to be doing.
Or that whole texting thing, he just didn't get it. Even if he did respond to one of the messages it's not like it was easy; having to scan that tiny little keyboard, picking out each letter, taking a good five minutes just to type out a few words. The whole ordeal of it was stupid, really, moronic.
Yet Harley had insisted he get one, just gushing at how much he'd love it.
"Look Puddin'," She'd told him, "All ya gotta do is go to this thing here, 'Contacts' see? Yeah that's it, an' just pick out my name and bam-o!" Her own phone went off, the sound of an ice cream truck ringing throughout the room. "It's easy dontcha think? An' ya can call me whenever ya need somethin', real simple like. Oh!" She grinned, "An' I told the boys your number too, kay?"
He'd resented it.
The annoying thing seemed to be going off every other minute. If it wasn't Harley with one of her ridiculous messages then it was one of the henchmen, whining about where to put the dynamite.
BZZZ.
He grimaced, aching at the thought of being bothered yet again. Didn't they know he needed to think? How the hell was he supposed to kill Batsy with that constant buzzing interrupting each and every plan?
BZZZ.
He wanted to smash the damn thing, gripping it tightly as he forced himself to examine it.
It was from Harley.
He ground his teeth, eyeing yet another photo she'd sent of herself half-naked, eyes fluttering at the camera with nothing on but some red, see-through lingerie.
BZZZ. 'Miss u puddin ;)'
He threw it at the wall.