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Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker, Batman, or Fountainbleu Nursing Facility.

I was inspired to write this when I visited Fountainbleu and wondered how Joker would react to the residents and planned the whole thing while sitting in a wheelchair. That's why I carry a notebook everywhere I go. You never know when Joker's going to come out of the woodwork and give you a story to tell. At least this one's not about his scars. -SevvyGirl

Joker Visits the Nursing Home

Ah, Batmangot me good this time...gotta find some bandages...needle and thread...that Batarang got me good. I'll bleed out if I don't get stiched up soon. After dragging myself through the alleyways of Gotham, I spot the perfect place to steal some gauze and antiseptic.

I look up to the sign, hiding behind it as a car passes: FountainBleu Lodge: Nursing Facility.

HA! Maybe I can have a little fun with the residents while I'm at it!

Sadly, I have no explosives or weapons other than my bang gun and a switchblade, both lethal but limited. What could be funny about old people? No time now...

I hit a window near the end of the building with the butt of my gun. Three hits and I'm able to clamor inside.

I look to the bed in the moonlight. This room IS occupied, but, uh, the patient's either a really heavy sleeper or dead. Well I didn't do it so I don't care.

I open the door and drag myself down the hall to a supply closet that is luckily unlocked. I grab an armful of bandages, alcohol, and antiseptic cream, along with a pair of scissors.

Now my calf needs stiches, I'm sure, but where do I find a needle and thread?

"What are you doing here? You're bleeding!" a woman's voice says from behind me.

I turn, grimacing, to see an old woman, probably around 90. She has her arms crossed anink robe with matching slippers and half-moon spectacles. She looks like a librarian to me for some reason. She has a very stern expression on as she looks me over.

"Why so serious, Dollface?"

"Don't you Dollface me, Mr. Joker!"

"Please," I say, moving closer, "Mr. Joker was my father." I pull out my knife and grab the woman. "I HATED my father!" I say, pressing the knife to her throat, about to off the woman.

I feel a prick at my own throat and a smile plays at the woman's lips.

I back off a little and look down a bit to see a knitting needle.

"Haha, what a pleasant surprise! Got any needles and thread?"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Back in Lorreta's room, I sit on the bed while she stitches my calf up for me and grit my teeth, laughing, when she pours the rubbing alcohol on.

"You aren't such a bad guy, are you?" she croons in a motherly voice.

"I have my days," I say nonchalantly, starting to rise and leave as she finishes pinning the gauze.

"No, no, no, you need to rest. I'll make sure no one comes in," she tells me, and sits by the door, knitting.

I rest for a few minutes, which turns into a few hours, and when the sun peeks up I go into the hallway, past the now sleeping Lorreta. I make it to a living room of sorts and discover a lot of old people get up at the crack of dawn. Two, a man and a woman, are arguing at a deafening level about how the other one is deaf. Four women are watching a soap opera and making a fuss. I head for the exit but am cut off by an old man with a cane.

"Young 'uns and their fancy-colored hair-punks, the lot of them," the old fart complains. I'd been waiting patiently for him to pass so as to stay unnoticed, but now the others spot me.

"Look at that pretty green hair!" a woman wearing green declares.

"Come here, sonny," a man demands.

Now that Soap Opera Ladies have seemingly barricaded the doors, I reluctantly limp to a chair.

So far I haven't been noticed as The Joker by any of the floor nurses, which is shocking to say the least. They seem preoccupied by a dead man and a broken window. The dead man answered my question from early pretty well, haha!

The Green Lady strokes my hair appreciatively. These people must be starved for new company. A man in a wheelchair with a prosthetic leg and an eyepatch growls, "Kill the Bat yet?"

"He's too much fun to kill," I grin madly. "Beat me up pretty good last night though."

"You'd better quit before you end up like me," the man says, gesturing to his missing leg and eye. "You got any family?"

"Not anymore," I say solemnly.

"Just like me then," the man says, a faraway look in his eye. "Name's Jack," he says and offers me a hand.

Jack. I shake his hand nervously. "Joker," I introduce unnecessarily. I feel myself pale, but under the makeup it doesn't matter. It's weird; he's Jack...and I'm Jack...he thinks we're just alike. Maybe we are. "You killed anybody lately?" I ask him jokingly.

He waves me closer. "See that guy they just wheeled out? He decided to steal my teeth last week."

I see the dude's serious and I laugh, surprised at the chaos in a nursing home. Maybe we're more alike than I like to think, haha.

Soap Opera Ladies literally pull me away and start fussing about my makeup and my wounded leg. None of them seem to be afraid of me. I guess the worse I could do is kill them and many are nearly there anyways.

"You sure get in a lot of trouble, you little trickster," a teasing woman's voice says.

"Do you want to play checkers?" a guy in the corner asks.

"How 'bout poker?" the guy across from the checker guy suggests. The other man nods approvingly.

"Uh, I'll be noticed soon, and I'd rather be able to, uh, leave without the police following..." I trail off.

"We'll play in Janice's room. The nurses visit and clean her room last."

"Alright," I give in.

Two Hours Later...

I've lost $200 to Lorraine and $100 to Jack. My name's Jack too, but I don't mention this. I probably won't live long enough to end up in a nursing home. Least ways I hope not; the Bat needs to off me first.

I finally fold and they take their winnings. Of the five of us playing, Lorraine wins $300 and Jack wins $200. I might have went easy on them, but they are good. I might have went too easy on them because they both give each other a look and a smirk at me.

The cleaning lady comes in and sees our odd poker game taking place on the tall bed trays and her eyes glue to me as I rise to go.

"Hi," I grin, "I'm just, ah, going, so there's no need to call the cops or anything...things wouldn't turn out well for you in the long run," I warn and she steps aside silently.

Since Janice's room was at the end of the hall, I slip out the emergency exit and as always, leave chaos and alarms in my wake as everyone starts shouting and scrambling in all directions, trying to figure out why the fire alarm's going off.

As I near "home", I think about how pleasant it was to not be treated like a madman for a few hours. I think about the eyepatch guy, Jack, that killed the denture thief.

Then I realize that they might be as crazy as I am, in their own way.

No, that's stupid...I'm not crazy. So then they're as sane as me. I'm as sane as a bunch of old people in a nursing home...or they're as sane as me...that one sounds better.

I think about how Lorraine stitched me up and saved my life, even though she knew that I was The Joker and would just go out and kill more people.

I think about them all and how I don't want to end up like them...old.

I've got to step up my game to push Batsy over the edge...ha, I have an idea!

A brilliant plan (involving explosives of course) forms in my mind as I think about the shocked nurse.

Now all I need is a nurse's outfit and a wig...

Time to go visit Harvey Dent in Gotham General. :)

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