Hello Kiddies!
This is a purely humorous fic. I started wondering, one day, whilst eating lunch, what would happen if the Joker decided to come to Maccas. This first chapter is a tiny little taster of what's to come. Hope you all enjoy!
Harley xx
I stood at the counter, a bored look on my face, as I re-scrubbed the same tray for what felt like, the hundredth time. If I had to clean one more thing I swear I was going to kill someone. I dropped my cloth and swore loudly, bending down to scoop it up. There was a sudden...
CRASH.
Followed by a loud...
BANG.
And then a series of screams from random costumers. I rolled my eyes. This was Gotham. What did they expect? I peaceful day. There was no way THAT would ever happen. I turned my back on the counter, throwing the cloth into a growing pile. As far as I was concerned, the people of Gotham scared to easy... the noise was probably just some kid falling over and smacking against the perfectly clean glass door.
"Great! I'll have to go clean up THAT mess next..." I mumbled, growling under my breath. There was a tapping of fingers on the counter and my glare deepened. Impatient costumers. I HATED impatient costumers. If I wasn't ready to serve then they could just wait! I reached for a new cloth, making sure the costumer could see just how slowly my arm was moving. There was a click...wait – was that a switchblade?
"Are you-err- going to serve me, or what?"
The color drained from my face and I turned around. There, standing at the counter, surrounded by his six clowns, was The Joker. He was wearing his custom suit, his trademark knife in his hand. His makeup made the anger that much more terrifying. My eyes widened and I darted to my register.
"Hi, what can I get for you, today?" I asked, my voice higher than usual. Yes, I was scared. Fucking petrified, actually. But I tried to remain calm...what was he going to do? He was on his lunch break after all. I glanced to my right, the other customers were all shaking in their seats staring at the gun's in the clown's hands.
"Look at me!" the Joker said, his voice rough. My eyes shot back to his. I'd never been this close to him before. I'd only ever seen pictures. From here, I could see every jagged line of his scars. I winced, I could only imagine the pain he would have gone through. And his eyes. He gave nothing away. It was like staring into a dark pit. A darkness that seemed to carry on forever. That scared me more than the scars. I hated not knowing what people were thinking, and with him, it was impossible to figure out.
"Err – Got that? Sweetcheeks?"
I blinked, dumbly.
"Sorry, can you repeat that?"
He sighed, shaking his head as he tutted.
"It's- err very rude, to stare!" he leant over the counter and wrapped his hand in my long hair, pulling my head closer. I felt the cold sting of his blade against my mouth and my heart went into overdrive.
"You seem nervous..." he smiled. A mocking smile. "Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got 'em?"
A clown stepped forward, his face hidden by a tasteless mask, he tapped the joker on the shoulder.
"WHAT?" the joker pushed me away and whipped around, his knife now at the goons neck.
"Boss... don't you think we should just, you know, g-get the food. Your on a break. You need to..r-relax." The guy was scared out of his mind. I didn't blame him. The Joker turned back to me. Tapping the knife against his lips as he stared, looking me up and down. He burst into laughter and, slowly, put his knife away. I let out the breath I had been holding.
"That uniforms not very – err – flattering, is it?" he mocked, Stupid Joker. I hated the uniform. He was right. It wasnt flattering! But hearing it from him just made me angry. He flicked the top of my hat and grinned.
"The hat is just- err- precious!" he fell into another fit of giggles and I sighed. Waiting.
"Alright-" he squinted at my name tag. "Kristy? Heh, I'm going to call you Krusty! M'kay?"
"O-kay." I answered through clenched teeth. Stupid fucking clown!
"I'll get- err six big mac meals. Biggest yah can get. Upsize everything. My men are hungry."
"Will that be all?"
"No, no, no... Now I'll have..." he stared at the menu, grinning. He was purposely taking his time. Just to annoy me. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. My knuckles cracked loudly and The Joker snapped his attention to me.
"Getting impatient are we, Krusty."
"Not at all, sir." I almost growled. Almost. The Joker lost it, again. What was with this guy and laughing?
"Sir? Sir! No. No Krusty, call me Mr.J."he winked. "Sir was my father."
Was he flirting? I swallowed, looking back at the screen in front of me.
"Alright, Mr. J. What would you like?"
"I'll get a – err – box of cookies. Large chocolate sundae. Extra topping. You know what? Make seven of 'em. I'm feeling generous." A goon threw his hands happily in the air. Guess the Joker didn't feel generous too often.
"Give me a Double quarter pounder. Without the double. Change the meat to a chicken patty. Without the sauce. Without the pickle. Without the onion. Add chicken sauce."
"So...You want the McChicken?" I frowned.
"NO! I said I want the double quarter. Without the doub- "
"Okay! Okay, got it. Anything else?" He was such a frustrating man.
"Yeah, some nice bubbled water to drink."
Bubbled water...what the FUCK was bubbled water?
"Sure thing. That comes to-"
"I'll be paying with it by card." he handed over a joker card. A daring smile on his face. I frowned at it, taking it from his gloved hand.
"Err..savings, cheque or credit?" I asked and he laughed.
"I like you, kid. You're – err funny."
I rolled my eyes at him.
"Sure. I'll just get a manager to sign off on this."
I stormed to the back of the store, whipping open the managers door. My manager, along with the other workers, were all hiding under the large desk.
"I wondered where you all went." I sighed. "Sir, I need you out front. Please."
His lip was visibly quivering as he stood up and followed me back to The Joker.
"The...um...customer would like to pay with card. Do we accept...playing cards here?" I said as the Joker smiled at me. The manager gave him one look and began nodding violently.
"Yes! Yes we do. Here." he opened the register. "Put it in there. I'll help you get your meal so the nice man isn't waiting."
The manager's eyes began tearing up with fear. The Joker smiled at him.
"Thanks – err, what's your name?"
"B-B-Bob."
"Well thanks B-B-Bob!"
The manager began piling food into take-away bags, throwing in extra burgers and fries just to keep The Joker happy. I shook my head. He was a coward. I took my time making up the drinks. Six cokes and...a bubbled water? I piled the cokes on a tray and went back to the drink machine, staring at it. I shrugged and filled the cup with water, slamming it on the tray as I adjusted my hat.
"There ya go. Have a nice day." I turned to leave, happy that was over with, when the Joker reached over and grabbed my arm.
"Say, Krusty. Where are my- err – bubbles?" he handed the drink over to me, watching to see what I'd do. My patience snapped.
"Sorry about that. Here."
I stuck the straw between my teeth, took a deep breath and blew out, bubbles erupting in the water. I did it again, just to make sure, and then handed the drink back over the counter. The goons laughed. My manager fainted. The Joker smiled, and then he cracked his neck to the side. Oh shit.
"Krusty. Though I appreciate your – err – creativity. That's not what I asked for. I wanted the – err – sprite. Ya know. Bubbled water?"
"How the fuck is sprite bubbled water?" I yelled. The room went deadly silent. The Joker shook his head.
"Tut. Tut Krusty. That is not what I call friendly customer service." He grabbed my arm. Holding it tightly in one hand as he rested the tip of the blade against my skin.
"This is strike one." he dug the blade into my arm, running it down in a deep line as I screamed. Blood poured from the gash and he laughed, pushing me away as he grabbed the food and turned around.
"Three strikes and your out. See ya next time, Krusty."
I clung to my bleeding arm, my vision began to blur and then everything went black.
Tell me what ya think!