Hi! This is gonna be kind of a weird one. I have so many cool ideas though, so please stick around. Review please, and if there's anything I could do better please let me know. The Joker in this story will be the Heath Ledger version, cause he's so fun to write! Enjoy, review, you know the drill!

I was just an average 18 year old girl. Well, unless being a rabid comic book fangirl made me unaverage. Sleeping under a Batman comforter when you're legally an adult isn't that bad, right? I mean, just because my entire wardrobe consisted of comic book merchandise didn't make me weird, did it?

....

Okay, let me try that again.

I was just a weird 18 year old girl.

Then things got a lot weirder after I was knocked out in the freak Marching Band accident.

When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital room, and I had the feeling that I wasn't alone. Then I heard a voice. I realized it was coming from me, but it wasn't my voice. Well, it was my voice, but it wasn't me.

It doesn't make a lot of sense. Maybe I'm crazy.

How else could the mind of the fictional criminal mastermind, the Joker, be living in my head?

It's an odd feeling, sharing your body with another mind.

There was almost constantly a fight for control. Since I was more familiar with my body than the Joker was, I usually won. Sometimes, however, the Joker would get lucky and seize control of one of my arms when I wasn't paying attention, then he would grab whatever object I was holding in my opposite hand and chuck it across the room. I often had to tell people I had Alien Hand Syndrome. He thought it was hilarious.

One time, while I ('we' would be more accurate, I guess) was at the restaurant where my mom worked, he tried to strangle me to death. I'm sure it looked very comical, and now I don't blame people for laughing (I mean, I had toppled out of my chair and was turning purple in the face before the Joker finally stopped) but at that moment, I was a tiny bit peeved that nobody helped me. Which is completely dumb, because to them it looked like I was choking myself. They thought I was kidding.

Plus, there was no way to keep secrets. He could see what I was thinking, I could see what he was thinking. That was always disturbing.

Even more disturbing was the fact that as the time passed, I began to think more and more like him. According to him, we had thought similarly from the get-go. I wouldn't believe that.

Our moods affected each other. If he was in a good mood, so was I. If he was feeling particularly muderous, so was I. Vice versa.

It wasn't all bad, though. We had a lot of laughs together. There were some serious moments in between. Over the course of time, we formed a friendship. It was an odd friendship, but it was there.

And thanks to him, I realized what was missing in my life.

BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEEEEEP!

Courtney groaned. How she hated alarm clocks. Nothing could ruin a good dream better than the obnoxious whines of a digital clock. If only life was like that old Disney movie, Smart House. The kids in that movie were woken up by Basketball games and Disney World projected on the walls.

No, no. Courtney wouldn't want a basket ball game to wake her up; she hated sports. She would never go to a sports gathering if it wasn't for band. Not that the band students paid attention to the game.

What would she want to wake her up? The opening for Batman The Animated Series would be great. Or maybe a montage of Joker laughs. That would be better.

Lost in her thoughts, Courtney had begun to drift back off to sleep.

BEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!!

Startled, Courtney jerked and fell right out of her bed.

"Okay, I'm up, I'm up!" She said, as if the inanimate object could understand her. She pulled herself up off the floor and reached for the clock. She fiddled with it, trying to find the off switch.

Funny, how she'd had it for almost a year and she had trouble turning it off.

She finally silenced it after another few minutes.

"Oooh, what now? Stupid clock."

She picked her sheets up from the floor and hastily spread them back across her matress, then did the same with her Batman comforter. After her bed was (sloppily) made, she plopped down near Batman's head.

"Ya think it's gonna be a good day today, Batsy?" She propped her elbow on her knee and rested her head in her hand. The Batman was frowning. "I guess that's a no...?" Still frowning. "Well, thanks for your opinion." She hopped off her bed and headed to her closet.

Appearances were not a big thing for her. She didn't particularly care what other people thought, so she dressed how she wanted. (Which, according to her best friend Sam, was like a ten year old boy.)

She quickly threw on her Marvel Civil War shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Not skinny jeans, which were very popular with her peers. Skinny jeans on her would be chunky jeans. She had made a resolution to lose weight last New Year...That hadn't worked out. She was tired of worrying about her weight. She was tired of worrying period.

If there was one thing she hated more than the alarm clock, it was worrying.

When her stomach gave a loud gurgle, Courtney decided to make her way into kitchen. She found her mother sitting at the table, hidden behind a newspaper.

"Morning, Ma." She took a seat across from her mom. The newspaper lowered, revealing the face of the older woman. She had extremely dark brown eyes and hair, both of which Courtney had inherited.

"Hey hun! I'm glad to see you got up on your own this morning. I thought I was going to have to come and drag you out." Mom said, grinning.

Courtney, helping herself to a pop-tart, grumbled about her damn alarm clock. Mom raised an eyebrow at her.

"Giving up on your diet?"

"Yup. It's not worth it. I'm fine being chunky. Besides, it's too hard to lose weight. You wouldn't know, of course, you've never been fat a day in your life," she said, shoving the rest of the pop-tart in as messily as she could. Mom rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I didn't even think you needed to go on a diet. Please do something about those crumbs," She said, eyeing the mess infront of her daughter. Courtney snorted.

"Didn't need a diet? Please Ma, my ass is three times the size it should be. Plus, I'm short. That makes it even worse. But whatever. We can't all be anorexic." She took her hand and swept the crumbs off the table and onto the floor.

"Courtney Cutler, get a broom and sweep that up right now!" Courtney raised her hands in defeat and went to grab the broom. As she was sweeping the remnants of her pop-tart into the dustpan, her mother glanced down at her wristwatch. "I've got to go." She looked around for her purse.

"But I thought you didn't have to be there till eight. You have an hour." Mom had located her purse and was now searching for her car keys.

"Yeah, but today's going to be a busy day. The blueberry pie is half priced. That usually means better tips, so maybe we'll go shopping this weekend." She found her keys on top of the bread box. "Try to have a good day at school, kay?" She said, before dashing out the door.

Courtney rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she hated more than alarm clocks and worrying, it was school.

Her stomach dropped as she thought of the place; she absolutely dreaded it.

It wasn't the learning part of school that she hated. In fact, she loved to learn...Well, she loved to learn things that she wanted to learn about.

If she wasn't interested in it, it was a total waste of time to her; 75% of the things the teachers were trying to teach, she could care less about. She hated that they decided what she should learn about.

And she hated the feeling school gave her; it made her feel trapped. She felt vaguely like she was in a prison every time she was there.

With the way some of her peers acted, it could be an insane asylum.

Her own personal Arkham. Interesting.