There are always three people in every relationship. It's like Punch, Judy and the Baby. See, one day the Baby needs a bath. So Judy pushes the creature to Punch. Punch decides he's had enough so he drowns the Baby, throws it out the window with the bath water and decides to toss Judy along with it for good measure. Smashing isn't it. That's the way to do it.
Any which way you looked at it, in every relationship there is the guy (Punch) and there is the girl (Judy) and there is that poor sucker, that third party who is blamed for every which way thing that goes wrong (the Baby). In Camelot there was King Arthur standing in the way of Lancelot and Guinevere; never mind that the poor sod was actually married to the bitch and in Shakespeare there was Julius Caesar in the matter of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra; not that it actually should matter that Markie Boy was supposed to the old Julius' best mate.
It was a role that he often finds himself when the matter of Harleen and Pammy comes up for discussion amongst friends near and dear. He doesn't mind it very much; he personally thinks it's funny that he of all people should be singled out for such loving attention. He was under the distinct impression that it was public knowledge that there was only one man in Gotham for Mr. Clown and he was tall, dark and menacing. Brucie looked wonderful in black leathers and drove a fast car. A very fast car. Brucie was gorgeous man meat; every which way you looked at him.
See, there were three guys waiting to go to heaven. The first guy comes up to the gate and says, "I never cheated on my wife and I love her". So St. Peter gives him a Rolls. The next man comes up and says, "I cheated on my wife a little but I still love her." He gets a Jag. The next guy came up and said, "I cheated on my wife alot". He gets a scooter. Next day the guy that got the scooter was riding along and he saw the guy who owned the Rolls Royce crying. He asks, "Why are you crying you have such a nice car?!" and the man sobs, "My wife just went by on roller skates".
But when you did your sums at the end of the day he supposed he was somewhat accountable for Harleen. After all she did use to be his consulting psychiatrist at Arkham. How was he to know that she had some deep seated emotional issues? You really couldn't blame a clown for that. Why that would be most unfair if not downright criminal.
He supposed he shouldn't have encouraged her attentions. He was so flattered, he couldn't stop himself and Arkham was always so drab and boring. He was tired of flirting with Harvey - that handsome two face devil - and the rest of them weren't really interesting people when you got down to it.
Jonathan was forever going on and on and on - "Scream. Scream. Or I will make you scream." - He needed quiet me time with the Energizer Bunny. Oh Joy.
Eddie was just plain borrrrrrrrrring and lonnnnnnnnnnnnng winded to boot - "It's a mystery. Broken into a jigsaw puzzle. Wrapped in a conundrum. Hidden in a Chinese box." - Blah blah bah and blah blah blah. The long winded gasbag needed a thumbtack sandwich.
Oswald was vulgar - "Despite the monetary wherewithal to indulge one's palate, your epicurean tastes run to the mundane. While I, on the other hand, intend to fill my gullet -- until I have feted my ravenous appetite!" – And so pathetically contrite, you just wanted to throw up all over him.
See, a man walks into a store to buy a Barbie doll for his daughter. "How much is that Barbie in the window?" he asks the shop assistant. She asks, "Which Barbie? We have Barbie Goes to the Gym for $19.95, Barbie Goes to the Ball for $19.95, Barbie Goes Shopping for $19.95, Barbie Goes to the Beach for $19.95, Barbie Goes Nightclubbing for $19.95, and Divorced Barbie for $395.00." The guy asks, "Why is Divorced Barbie different from all the others?" and the shop assistant says, "That's obvious, Divorced Barbie comes with Ken's house, Ken's car, Ken's boat, Ken's furniture..."
But Harleen - Harleen was that breathe of fresh air he needed to kick start his system. He really didn't intend to induce a nervous breakdown resulting in the physical manifestation of a submerged alter ego – which was oh so so so flatteringly – patterned after him. He just wanted a little distraction from the hum ho that Arkham had become and a free Get-Out-Of-Jail card and oooooooooooh a pack of those cocktail peanuts in foil. Thank you very much. You really couldn't blame him for that. It really wasn't anyone's fault really.
Harleen had that gift of ingratiating herself into your life until she was literally under your skin. He supposed that was how she managed to snatch herself a much coveted internship at Arkham from wherever she came from. She probably intended like the rest of them to spend a few years chewing the fat before writing that tell all bestseller and retiring to the lecture circuit. Strange how they always thought that after a few chemicals, a couple of days of drug-induced isolation and a cheap little nervous breakdown they had him all figured out. Like there was some rabbit hole they could follow him down to understanding. Personally if he had known what was coming, he would have ended it there and then with a bullet through that fat head of hers. The Cow.
See, a couple of hunters are out in the woods when one of them falls to the ground. He doesn't seem to be breathing; his eyes are rolled back in his head. The other guy whips out his cell phone and calls emergency services. He gasps to the operator: "My friend is dead! What can I do?" The operator, in a calm soothing voice says: "Just take it easy. I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead." There is a silence, and then a shot is heard. The guy's voice comes back on the line. He says: "OK, now what?"
In the end she hunted him down. Showed up on his doorstep unannounced one day when he was in a meeting and threw herself at him in front of all his business associates. He had to admit it was interesting at first and oooooooooooh soooooooooo flattering. It was always "Mr. J this and Puddin that" with Harleen and he fell for it – hock, line and stinker. But he was being too hard on himself; you see it was actually Brucie's fault. He had always wanted a "pet" if that was what you called them, like the ones Brucie keeps. Now Brucie was Puddin. You could just eat him all up.
Unfortunately the sad thing about "pet" ownership is that the novelty of the experience wears out very fast and then one is faced with the duty of feeding and having to care for the thing. It was like that pair of hyenas that he got once because he thought they matched the décor. He should have shot the pair of them too. Harleen called them "Bud" and "Lou". He called them "Get" and "Out".
He really didn't have to bother in the end. Harleen was after bigger fish. BIG FISH. It was really so funny when you think about it. He had always assumed from the way she acted around him – and it was that ego thing again, sad but true – that Harleen was shall we say a typical hot blooded female with the implied assumption – and this always cracked him up – that she was attracted to the hot blooded male of the species. But that was the problem with mutts wasn't it; you never knew how they were going to turn out in the end.
He blames Dini. But why so serious?
See, an Alsatian goes to a telegram office, takes out a blank form and writes:" Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof." The clerk examines the paper and politely tells the dog: "There are only nine words here. You could send another 'Woof' for the same price." "But," the dog says, "That would make no sense at all."
He was at the Iceberg Lounge. Harleen was there as part of his entourage. He supposed he should have paid more attention to what she was doing, but he was being too hard on himself again. One never really knows what the help gets up too nowadays.
What Harleen was doing was making goo goo eyes across the floor at Pammy. Not that Pammy ever noticed. Pammy was used to unwanted attention – which was what you got if you ran round Gotham wearing nothing but pieces of shrubbery, even he could tell you that.
He really doesn't know how long Harleen stalked Pammy. To tell the truth, he really wasn't paying that much attention to Harleen l. Sad really when you thought about it. If only he had an irking of what divine delights Harleen was capable of then, he would have directed that delightful mad genius to more fruitful causes. But he was making bad puns now.
Harleen even got him to take her along to his monthly poker game. He wonders why he ever agreed to do that. He must have been insane. Harvey was there – looking the worse for wear - he liked Harvey. Harvey was a wonderful guy, half of the time at least. Good old Harvey always good for a laugh and a punch-up at the same time.
See Harry answers the telephone, and it's an Emergency Room doctor. The doctor says: "Your wife was in a serious car accident, and I have bad news and good news. The bad news is she has lost all use of both arms and both legs, and will need help eating and going to the bathroom for the rest of her life." Harry says, "My God. What's the good news?" The doctor says, "I'm kidding. She's dead."
Harvey was always hanging around Pammy; sure it was flattering at first – and that he knew from experience didn't he – but it wasn't anything she couldn't get from any other Tom, Dick or Harry off the street. Pammy was used to having men hang on her every vowel. After the novelty of being placed on a pedestal wore off, she would cut him off and he would start with the flowers, the sweet talk, the gifts, etc. It was the world's oldest joke; Boy loves Girl. Girl loves flowers. Girl poisons Boy for flowers. Girl lives happily ever after with flowers. Sad but true. It was the same with him and Brucie; it was all horribly sick, one sided and homoerotic.
He remembers that Harleen was particularly well behaved that evening. He didn't have to cuff her on the head or leave a bruise on that pale white skin. He didn't like leaving bruises. It wasn't funny and what would Brucie say.
He snickers whenever the topic of how Harleen first met Pammy comes up. It was so contrived it was almost not funny. Imagine Harleen runs into Pammy at the Museum of all places, Harleen saves both their butts and they run away into the sunset together. Dini was a born liar if there ever was one. He knew it for a fact that Harleen got Dini to bring her up to Pammy's table at the Iceberg Lounge one night when he was out of town to see a man about a horse. Not that Pammy ever remembers. He supposed Harleen used the opportunity to pump Pammy for information, anything to get under her skin. He would have done the same thing under the same circumstances. They were so alike sometimes it was almost cute. Like peas in a pod they were. Soul sisters.
Pammy was a good kid, a little late on the scene but she was a contender back then. Some impressive jobs saving the world for Mother Nature by invoking the Big Rip and then she had to run face up against a fucked up cow like Harleen. Funny how life gives you honey bath before it lets loose a horde of hungry bears. Laugh and the world laughs with you. It would be an American to think up a punch line like that.
A few weeks after he finally lost it one night and threw Harleen out on her butt. It was beautiful. Harleen pressed all the right buttons; she worked him like one of those game consoles the kiddies were always playing. She had him eating right out of her hands and foaming at his mouth for more. That girlie had talent, misguided perhaps but still talent. It was the perfect setup. Pammy was the target. He was the purple pansy. It was all soooooooo twisted just thinking about it brought tears of joy to his face.
Harleen played him against Pammy and played Pammy against him. Harleen that sick puppy; he was so proud of her. It was like listening to someone run their fingernails across a blackboard. She was definitely his number one girl.
See a married man was having an affair with his secretary. One day, they made passionate love all afternoon. Exhausted from the wild sex, they fell asleep. As the man threw on his clothes, he told the woman to take his shoes outside and rub them through the grass and dirt. "Where have you been?" demanded his wife when he entered the house. "Darling, I can't lie to you. I've been having an affair with my secretary and we've been having sex all afternoon. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until eight o'clock." The wife glanced down at his shoes and said, "You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!"
That was the magic of denial theory wasn't it. He should have known that was the subject of Dr Harleen Quinzel's graduate thesis. It starts with the single premise that the public and the private personas are polar opposites; we all deny ourselves what we really want and who we really are.
Pammy surrounded herself with fawning admirers because subconsciously she really didn't want to be loved or desired. She wanted to be used and discarded; she craved rejection. All Harleen had to do was play impossible to get. She drove Pammy so crazy Pammy actually seduced her.
He would never have thought that was possible with Pammy. There wasn't a gay bone in Pammy's body. Sure she had issues with men, but then who honestly didn't. He himself could name a dozen or more instances when Brucie was being downright brutal. Not that he didn't find that attractive in a primitive base sort of way. But this wasn't really about him was it.
See a woman brings eight-year-old Johnny home and tells his mother that he was caught playing doctors and nurses with Mary, her eight-year-old daughter. Johnny's mother says, "Let's not be too harsh on them.... they are bound to be curious about sex at that age." Curious about sex?" replies Mary's mother. "He's taken her appendix out!"
He remembers when the news first broke about Harleen and Pammy. Harvey thought it was cute that Pammy found herself a roommate. Harvey was a Moron. He knew better than to listen to a guy who's next serious romantic attachment would be Renee Montoya. To say that Harvey had taste in women was saying that the moon was made of Swiss cheese. He knew for certain it was made of blue cheese any Moron could see the big bulging blue veins on the thing.
He was concerned about the taint and the repercussions this fling was going to have on his manhood. It was machismo working overtime in that ugly sort of way. Harleen was using Pammy to press his buttons. It was all so slick that he sometimes wets himself thinking about it.
Harleen set up the perfect motion engine. Harley Quinn loves the Joker. The Joker beats Harley Quinn. Poison Ivy takes care of Harley Quinn. Big mean Joker comes for Harley Quinn and takes her away from Poison Ivy. The Joker beats Harley Quinn. Harley Quinn runs back to Poison Ivy and on and on and on like a goddamme broken record. If it wasn't so perfect it won't be funny. Harleen should have worked for the soaps. Coronation Street would have won themselves an Oscar.
See a man walks into his bedroom with a sheep under his arm. His wife is lying in bed reading. The man says, "This is the pig I have sex with when you've got a headache." His wife replies, "I think you'll find that is a sheep." The man replies, "I think you'll find I was talking to the sheep."
He found Harleen outside his door 2 weeks ago with the hyenas in tow. He was pleased to see her. He really almost always is. She's family you see. She was looking well but he sensed that things were going a little stale with Pammy in paradise. People who lived in glass houses really shouldn't throw stones.
He supposed that Harleen was tired of Pammy ignoring her and potting round that obscenely large greenhouse of hers talking to her "babies" all the time or Harleen was tired of Pammy avoiding her and locking herself up for days on end in her lab working on some strange exotic mutation or heaven forbid Pammy was refusing her sex again – he knew that happened from time to time. Pammy was most capable of saying no and meaning it.
She did the expected "Oh Mr. J" routine and threw herself at him again. How Puddin. He finds it amazing himself that after all this while; he still plays along with her. The things you do for family.
She tried to get into his bed; he simply pushed her off the table and kicked her out of the room. She tried to seduce him. He simply pushed her off the table and kicked her out of the room. She threw herself all over him at the Iceberg Lounge. He simply pushed her off the table and carried on with whatever he was doing before he was so rudely interrupted. It was most amusing and heart warming to have Harleen home. He actually had a date with Brucie on the Tuesday but he pushed it back to Thursday week for her. Anything for family. Besides he knows Brucie is out there somewhere just waiting for him.
He expects Pammy will show up at his doorstep soon. It takes her a week or more to work out whatever poison is in her system and come looking for Harleen. Whatever their dysfunctional relationship, he just didn't see why he needs to be involved in their sick love games. It wasn't funny. What would Brucie think? That he was some pervert screwing Harley Quinn who was in turn screwing Poison Ivy. That would be so horrible and typical of Brucie.
See, a guy goes to a bar, and says to his friend "You won't believe what happened. I was taking a short cut along the railway track, and I found a girl tied to it. I untied her, and then we had sex over and over again, all the positions, everything. His friend says "That's great: did you get a blow job?" Oh, no: I never found her head.
The last bust up was terrible. He made the mistake of going out around the time Pammy was expected. It had seemed quite innocent then a quick trip out to the factory to check on the stock. He was concerned that the acid base seemed rather inert of late. He came back to find everything trashed. Everything had been absolutely and utterly taken over by strange sentient vines which were blooming and releasing their poisonous sprays all over the place like dirty unneutered animals. It was like something out of a Lovecraft wet dream. He managed to make his way back in only to find Harleen and Pammy having make up sex right in the middle of his nice clean floor. He needed to get his eyeballs fumigated after that. He knew that Pammy was half plant but the things she wanted Harleen to do to her were unnatural and downright sick. He felt he would have needed to go out and shoot someone nearest and dearest to Gordie in the spine to clear his head if he hadn't already done that. Posies.
Pammy called a few days later to apologise and he made her pay for it. He sent her his cleaning bill.
He could feel the ground beneath him rumble slightly. Pammy really did know how to make an entrance. He always wonders how she manages to get round the terrible traffic on that monster vine of hers. But no time for idle thoughts, he needed to get the weed wacker and the flame thrower out ASAP. Pammy was family now and their visits together were always so much fun, destruction and mayhem. After all that's the way to do it.