Hey there, folks, and welcome to a simple little one-shot that probably sprang from viewing one too many SPCA commercials. Hope you enjoy.
This is rated a light T for frank discussion of hyena sexuality and anatomy. Unusual.
Jonathan Crane squinted through the peephole and did not see the Chinese food delivery he'd been expecting. Instead, a familiar blonde and her two slobbering exotic pets were standing in the hallway. The blonde was clutching green and purple leashes in one hand and waving with the other.
"Hiya, Professor! You home?" Harley called.
The door swung open and Crane strode out. "I am in hiding! Do you want the police or worse to descend upon me? Get in here and be quiet while you're doing it!"
Chastised, Harley pulled her hyenas into the apartment. Crane took a quick look down the hall in both directions, saw no curious neighbors peeking out—or delivery boys—and slammed the door.
"What did you do to enrage Poison Ivy so badly she banished you?" Crane asked.
"Huh? I wasn't stayin' with Red. Me and Mr. J are havin' a swell time. He's got this plan to take care of B-man, and it's a doozy! But I'm not supposed to tell people about it."
"Excellent, because I don't want to hear about it. I just assumed you had run out of people to accommodate you if you sought my residence. Because I am very busy and- If he drinks that, he'll probably die."
Crane pointed at the hyena that was attempting to stick its muzzle into a beaker of neon green toxin. Harley squeaked and grabbed the animal's collar, yanking it away.
"Gee, Professor, I don't wanna tell you how to do your job, but is the kitchen table the best place for that?" Harley asked as she held both Bud and Lou close to her body and away from any other boiling beakers.
"I ran out of space in the bedroom. Though that near miss does exemplify why I live alone and don't keep pets."
"We don't need to stay, we just need a favor."
Crane raised an eyebrow. "A favor."
"Uh-huh, a little one."
"Did I fail to say I was busy?"
"But it's really, really important and it might prevent exploding woohoos!"
Crane's other eyebrow rose up to meet its mate. "Exploding what?"
Harley looked each of her hyenas in the eyes and said, "You gotta learn about the birds and the bees sometime, I guess. So no gigglin'! When a boy hyena and a girl hyena fall in love, they make a baby. But the girl hyena has a woohoo that looks like a dingdong 'cause she has more testosterone than Batman! So when she tries to have a baby through her weird woohoo sometimes it-"
"We've all watched National Geographic, Quinn, thank you! What does unique hyena anatomy have to do with anything?"
"Mr. J and I was thinkin' about gettin' a lady hyena or six so we could make a hyena army to eat B-man and whatever 12 year old he's hangin' out with now. But we watched some videos about hyena baby-makin' and even Mr. J was startin' to look a little green around the gills."
"Again, what do you want me to do about any of this? Roll back the whole of creation, restart evolution, and point hyenas down a path toward less dangerous pregnancy?" Crane asked.
"Nope, I need you to help me get these two neutered 'cause Mr. J moaned and locked himself in the bathroom when I said the word and Red offered me hedge clippers and said do it myself."
"Oh, God."
Harley threw herself at his feet. "Please, Professor Crane! If you won't help me, the next person I gotta go to is Jervis and I know it's gonna be weird!"
"How is he supposed to help you? Child, what on Earth could the Hatter- Never mind. I don't want to know what you were thinking. I'll help, if only to spare you the horror of neutering by vorpal blade..."
"Thanks!" Harley flung her arms around Crane's midsection and squeezed.
"If you promise to stop the hugging!"
"Okey-dokey, Professor. So, uh, what's your plan?"
Crane stepped away from Harley and her grabby arms. "Step one is to get you and your clumsy pets out of my apartment before something is knocked over and we all asphyxiate. Step two is to find an expert in the field."
Harley cocked her head like a confused dog. "What kinda expert? Like a zookeeper? 'Cause me and Mr. J are permanently banned from the zoo 'cause of what happened with the laughing elephants."
"I was thinking smaller and less likely to cause a stampede," Crane replied.
"Pony wrangler! No, wait, duck-keeper!"
Crane dragged a hand down his face. "Yes, an expert in an entirely different class of animal, which reproduces through eggs instead of live birth, will be of ever so much use to us."
"Are you bein' sarcastic or-"
"Yes! We're wasting time. Grab those two and let's go."
Crane checked the peephole and then cracked the door. All clear. He shooed Harley and her hyenas out and locked up after them. He considered scribbling a quick note for the delivery man, but then canned the idea. If they couldn't be there in a timely fashion, let them try to hock Crane's order to his neighbors.
The Joker had, on occasion, terrorized the town with a car bearing his face on the front. He'd also driven all manner of ostentatious, less-branded vehicles including stolen limos, helicopters, boats, and once, a tank. Harley had had the good sense to "borrow" a less noticeable and more practical black SUV. She loaded the hyenas into the back and then hopped into the passenger seat.
"Why am I driving?" Crane asked.
"'Cause I drove all over town and I'm tired," Harley whined. "Besides, I got no idea where you wanna go. You're the man with the plan, Professor."
"I wouldn't call it anything as fleshed as a plan. More like a vague idea of handing you off to more capable hands."
Harley put her feet on the dashboard and reclined her seat. "Who you thinkin' of?"
"Catwoman."
"Uh, I don't think she's gonna help me. See, Mr. J had this plan to turn her into cat food and now she hates us."
Crane sighed. "Of course he did, and of course she does. Still, her singular love of cats should compel her to at least lend us the name of someone who can neuter your pets. Especially if you give her that anatomically horrifying speech you attempted to give your hyenas."
"If she loves cats, why would she care about hyenas?"
"They're somewhat related. And I'm sure she'd love the idea of your pets neutered."
Harley shrugged. "Alright, Professor Crane. I'm not sure I buy it, but if it's Kitty or Jervis, I guess I'll try Kitty first."
Crane grumbled, "I'm glad you're so agreeable."
"How are we gonna find her anyway?" Harley asked as she attempted the super-lazy feat of remaining reclined and using her foot to tune the radio.
"I don't think that will be the difficult part," Crane replied.
The radio blared to life, some god-awful pop tune that turned any brain with an IQ over 75 into mush. Crane hastily turned it off.
"That's my favorite song!" Harley protested.
"I hope you aren't serious," Crane replied. "Because if you are, I can't associate with you."
Harley huffed, "Fine, it's more like my fourth favorite. Come on, Professor, you gotta admit it's catchy."
"So is pneumonic plague. I don't listen to that either. Why don't you stop worrying about the unfortunate state of top 40 hits and look for eye shine."
Harley peered out the windshield at the city passing by. The landscape she saw in the headlights wasn't one any artist would be eager to immortalize in still life. Everything was drab brick, punctuated by the occasional dumpster, hooker plying her trade on the corner, and-
"There's one! Wait, nope, it's a rat. Wow, that was a big one! Did you see it?" Harley asked, turning around to look out the rear window.
"As it crossed the road in front of me and was nearly as large as a pug, yes, I did happen to catch a glimpse of it."
Once the mutant rat was out of sight, Harley went back to scouting for cats. Whenever the SUV approached an alley, Crane slowed down to give Harley ample time to peep. The first few alleys yielded plenty for comment—some drunk guys fighting, Killer Moth having a costume malfunction and throwing one of his bright orange wings against the side of a building, a garbage can on fire—but no cats. Probably because the drunks, Killer Moth, and Dumpster fire drove them all away.
Just when Crane was about to suggest Catwoman had rescued all the strays, Harley pointed. "We got a kitty!"
Crane pulled the SUV over to the curb. The cat Harley had spotted darted off the sidewalk and into the mouth of the nearest alley. Perfect. Nobody was ever ambushed and stabbed to death in Gotham's alleys ever...
"We found a kitty. What do we do now?" Harley asked.
"I'll try to get Catwoman's attention. You keep a watch on fire escapes, window ledges, anywhere she might perch. Warn me the moment you see her so I can explain our situation before she pulls out the whip."
Harley saluted. "You got it, Professor."
Harley and Crane exited the SUV. Harley pulled out her phone, activated its flashlight feature, and handed it to Crane. "Just don't use up all my battery 'cause I gotta text Mr. J back. And, uh, don't read those texts."
"Not in my wildest nightmares. Just stay focused on your part of the plan."
Harley looked skyward to the roof. It was free of any lithe moving shadows. "We're all good right now."
Crane entered the alley. It had been deemed an acceptable extension of the city dump, judging by all the trash bags, empty cans, and general crap strewn on the ground. A roach skittered out from one of the bags and made a beeline for Crane's shoe. He obliged its suicide mission with a crunchy stomp.
"It smells super bad!" Harley complained. She held her nose and fanned in front of her, as though giving movement to the garbage air was going to improve it.
"You're fifteen feet closer to fresh air than I am. Be thankful," Crane replied as he shined the phone around, revealing about a million of the dead roach's comrades, and zero cats.
"Where did you go, you mangy little-"
A perfect bracelet of burning pain encircled Crane's wrist. Before he could fully appreciate the leather now wrapped around his arm, he was pulled backward, his shoulder nearly dislocated by the force behind the yank. Crane lost his balance and ended up going down among the trash.
"What happened? Did you trip on the kitty? I knew an old lady who tripped over her kitty and broke her hip," Harley said.
"Catwoman's here somewhere, but where were you?!" Crane demanded, pulling at the whip thong still wound around him.
"I was gettin' sick from the smelly smell that smelled smelly, so I went to the car quick. Real quick."
Crane's arm was hoisted into the air against his will. "Not quick enough! You've made your point, Cat! Give it back and let me explain!"
From the fire escape above Crane's head (and just out of range of fear toxin) Catwoman said, "Explain first, and then we'll see about you having arm privileges."
"I wasn't going to do anything with the cat. It was a ploy to get you here."
"So you wanted to trap me? Yeah, I'm keeping this arm."
"This needs clarifying. We have no intention of trapping you. Quinn needs help getting her pets neutered and you seemed like the sanest option."
Catwoman was silent for a moment. She then snorted. "Did she tell you she tried to grind me into cat food?"
"She did mention it, yes."
"So... I would help her why exactly?"
"My logic was, neutering her hyenas prevents her and her hideous amour from breeding, in Quinn's own words, 'a hyena army' that could eat you."
Catwoman purred. "That does make sense, which means there's no way Harley and the Joker would go along with it. So what's her angle?" Catwoman jerked the whip, making Crane's arm jump in Harley's direction.
"She and the clown watched a video on hyena childbirth and it was enough to turn both their stomachs. Quinn, if you would."
Harley, despite the noxious air, took a lungful and launched into her birds-and-bees spiel. "When a girl hyena and a boy hyena fall in love and make a baby-"
"I believe it's terrible. What do you want me to do?" Catwoman asked.
"Return control of my arm," Crane said. "And arrange a meeting with a veterinarian who runs one of the stray cat spay-and-neuter clinics in the city. Tonight. Within the next five minutes if possible."
"I'll make a few calls. If-"
Crane groaned, "Here we go."
"If," Catwoman continued, "you actually pay the vet, I never have to hear the words 'hyena army' again, and the proceeds of both of your next heists go to a no-kill shelter."
"My next heist is going to be toxic chemicals."
"Fine, Quinn, since they're your pets, your next heist. Crane, you just stay away from my cats."
The whip uncoiled from Crane's wrist as Catwoman vanished into the shadows. A few minutes later, a paper airplane sailed from some dark eave. Harley had no trouble spotting that and happily chased it around the alley like a kid pursuing snowflakes.
Harley snatched the airplane from the air and unfolded it. "We got an address! Ooh, and a list of stuff she's gonna do to us if go back on our deal. Ouch."
Crane grabbed the paper. "Let's get this over with."
The address turned out to be a modest veterinary clinic that was advertised as closed for the night, though a few lights were on and the front door was unlocked when Crane tried it. He held the door so Harley could finagle her monsters into the clinic. Judging by the whining and leash-tugging, they expected Harley was leading them to their execution.
"Holy crap, I really thought she was joking! I'm glad I came prepared!"
The vet, a stout woman Crane estimated to be in her late 40's, emerged from behind the counter. She was armed with a terrifyingly large syringe full of something.
"This will knock a horse out for two hours, so a skinny fellow like you might not wake up until next month," the vet warned.
Crane raised his hands. "We're here with an honest purpose, which Catwoman conveyed to you. I hope."
"She asked me to neuter Harley Quinn's hyenas. I thought she was putting me on. But she basically funds Gotham Cat Rescue, so I played along. I make great life choices."
"Welcome to the club," Crane said dryly. "That is in fact what we're here for. These two must be stopped before-"
"The woohoos explode!" Harley cut in.
"Yes, before they impregnate female hyenas and all manner of hell breaks loose. Also, I'm prepared to pay you for your services. And not terrorize you."
The vet crossed her arms. "Isn't that the deal of the century. Fine. Bring those two back to the first exam room. And remember, anyone starts any villainy, this horse needle is going right into their ass."
"I can't do it, Professor!" Harley wailed when Bud and Lou dug their claws into the linoleum and started whimpering. "You gotta take 'em back for me."
Crane rolled his eyes. "It's a simple, beneficial operation, not euthanasia."
Harley held out the leashes.
"Come on, you mangy creatures, don't make this difficult."
Crane managed to drag both hyenas into the appointed exam room, though he had trouble keeping them there. The vet was able to slam the door just seconds before the hyenas could overpower Crane and return to Harley. They yelped and scratched at the door.
"They're the biggest babies I've seen in a while," the vet observed. "You have a preference which one we take first?"
"Whichever one- what do you mean 'we'?" Crane asked.
"I can't carry a hundred pound animal by myself. Also, I need someone to distract them while I give 'em a quick shot and then get down to business. I'm not getting my hand bitten off for Harley Quinn and the Scarecrow."
"So help me, this is the last favor I ever do Quinn as long as I live."
An hour later, two woozy hyenas were resting in the back of the SUV and Harley was fussing over them like they'd sustained terrible battle injuries. Crane emptied his wallet of the sixty dollars it contained, which was all his food money for the foreseeable future. It looked like his research would continue on an empty stomach.
"Thanks. This will cover the cost of electricity and gloves," the vet deadpanned.
"I also have access to very large and scary needles," Crane warned.
"You want a pair of head cones to take with you in case they start chewing down there? Sure you do! Here you go, thanks for your business, bye now!"
Burdened with head cones, Crane couldn't take any action against the vet as she ran into the clinic, locked the door, and turned out the lights. He returned to the SUV, dumped the cones into the back with Harley, and got into the driver's seat.
"My poor babies, I hope you don't gotta wear the cone of shame," Harley said.
"I don't care what your pets do from here on out. The next time they need something, call Tetch, call Calendar Man, call bloody Killer Moth for all I care. Don't call me. I won't answer. I will be home, enjoying the Chinese food I can longer afford because your hyenas cost me every red cent I had to my name!"
"But if you spent all your dough-"
"I am the Master of Fear, I'll figure it out!" Crane gunned the engine.
By the time Crane arrived back at his apartment building, Bud and Lou had shaken off their anesthesia and hardly seemed to be aware they were missing anything. Harley was still treating them like fragile little eggs, but that was her problem, not Crane's. He parked, tipped an invisible hat to them, and wished them a pleasant life not reproducing.
Crane walked the three flights of stairs to his apartment and stalked towards his door. He was so blinded by frustration he didn't even notice the little plastic bag until he'd knocked it over with his Sasquatch foot. He looked down.
Holy hell, it was his Chinese food! Crane picked up the bag. Affixed to it was a note: You owe me 10 dollars. The guy in 3F.
What a terrible shame Jonathan Crane was totally broke. He'd have to give the occupant of 3F some other form of compensation.
Maybe a free psychiatric session and the honor of testing the newest version of his fear toxin. Because, as Crane had learned, no good deed went unpunished.
The End.
Thanks for reading!
Author's Notes:
Yeah, all those things about hyenas are true.
The smelly smell that smells smelly is from SpongeBob.
In the episode of Batman the Animated Series Almost Got 'Im, the Joker and Harley do indeed try to turn Catwoman into cat food.
The cone of shame is from Up.