This is just a story I am doing when I am bored! Haha Welcome tooooooooo "Diary of a Screwed up Night" The whole story will not be just diary entries, there will be some actions written down. I Tried writing something like this when I was 13, but it got so much hate that I quit.

"Dear Diary,

My Name is Clara Jenkin, I'm a 17 year old daughter of a cop, whose father believes my "teen angst" phase will slowly dissipate if I write my feelings down in a notebook. Obviously my diary is going to hold my dirty secrets my father wishes to read.

I think I'm just going to carry this around with me everywhere until I get bored and write down everything that's happening around me, so if I die, people could read how fucked up I am in the head. I just got like a great idea, I'll even let people write in this thing.

Hopefully people don't draw penises or write cliché things like "Mark was here" That'd be so stupid.

Alright Diary, and person who will read this when I am deceased. Since my diary has no eyes and can't see what I look like, I think I'll describe what I look like.

So I'm about 5'6" I know that I'm tall, so you whispering "Hot damn A tall chick? Tight." Isn't needed. I'm also on the average side on weight. I am 145lbs, so I'm not like super skinny like a model but screw it, my hair falls to the middle of my back and I dyed it "Princess Ariel red", my eyes are brownish with like specs of blue, I have a black stud nose piercing, and a tattoo of a sword going through a heart. Poorly done, since I had it done by my friend who said he was good, but he actually sucked balls at tattoos, and then down my forearm in black fancy wording was "Freak", I planned on getting a sleeve. If you ever meet me in person, I'm usually wearing my black and red oversized flannel that covers my hands, some band t-shirt, dark skinny jeans, and brown "Van" high-tops with the white soles. My hair is always in a high pony tail.

Now that you got a picture of me in your head, I guess you could say I'm quite the catch? *Insert awkward wink here* just kidding. You wouldn't want to date me, I'd make you do crazy shit! I'd make you get in my piece of shit bright blue truck, turn on some Papa Roach, and we'd speed down Gotham City until we heard police sirens. Trust me, I'm not pulling over, I usually lose them, then we'd go to a party where the police show up, and then we'd try to escape (do a shitty job at it) and spend the night at Gotham City Zoo –Sorry I mean police station! Then we'd do it all over! When I'm ungrounded.

Officer Shit Face can't hold me down.

You're probably wondering where my mom is in this picture? She's dead, I never met her.

Moving on.

My dad's calling me down stairs, so I'm going to go down and listen to him.

-End of Entry One"

Clara slammed her diary shut taking her head phones out of her ears. She pushed it into her bag and threw her over shoulder backpack on.

"Coming!" She called getting up, her brown high-tops hitting against the floor. She pulled her flannel on correctly and walked down the stairs. She looked at her dad, with several men wearing clown masks and she knew something fucked up was about to happen. "Fuck dad, what did you do?"

She finished walking down the steps and crossed her arms. She didn't know her father worked for the Joker's men.

"Hun, I need you to do something small for me…" Her father spoke, he was trying to sound nice and not yell at her for swearing at it.

"Oh Jaysus…Did you sell my soul to The Joker?!" Clara freaked and looked at one of the men that tilted his head at her she shook her head at him, and pointed to her father giving a "what the fuck" look.

"No! You just…are the least predictable person to help Joker." Her father said. Clara looked at him with a funny look.

"Fuck that."

"Mouth!" Her father exclaimed.

"Traitor!" Clara pointed at him.

"I just need you to hand him a phone!" Her father glared throwing his hands in the air.

Clara glared back at him and looked back at the man looking at her with a tilted head. She looked back at her dad.

"I'll pay you." Her father said. Clara looked at him with an emotionless look.

"Nah, I'm not getting paid to do something illegal. Something I like to do!" Clara said. "I'll do it though, because I don't have a choice. Obviously." She said with a glare. "And plus, I'm going to die one day anyway, let me die helping The Joker. It'll be better than saying I was murdered by a crazy abusive boyfriend I'll most likely have one day." As her father gave her a mad look holding a flip phone. She grabbed it from him. "And it'll be your fault because I have massive daddy issues because you didn't give me enough attention growing up." She was basically quoting what her therapist said in their group therapy session. She flipped him off and then everybody in the room. She left grabbing her keys.

"I'm gonna go get arrested." She said with an emotionless look. She stuffed the phone into her high-tops, even though it was uncomfortable. If she was going to help the Joker she was going balls out. She reached into her bag and pulled out her hand knife. She stuffed it in her other high-top.

She got in her car and turned her music on all the way up, Papa Roach "getting Away with Murder" began blaring from her radio. She smirked to herself. "Fuck yeah. Perfect music for the perfect time." She said speeding off down the road.

Awhile after that she stopped at red light a cop was by her car. The cop looked at her, and gave her a look. That must have been her cop. Or Joker's cop. Whatever. She revved her truck at him, and he smirked. She winked at him and even though it was red she took off fast sticking her head out the window as she drove like she was dog and looked back at him. She flipped him off.

"COME AT ME BITCH!"

A/N: Tell me what you think! I know it's lame and it's supposed to be funny and edgy. Lol this will be something I'm writing when I'm not writing my serious fanfiction. Lol this is supposed to be like a Joker/OC type thing but like kind of not. It's hard to explain. There will be mentions of it.