Written by the fabulous Hufflepuff, HoneyBadger, and edited by the very talented MerryDew.
Concept provided by your elvish friend and our very own plot bunny breeder, Mellon-Nin.
Created during an after school discussion over "What Comes Of AP English" and how fucked up Lord of the Flies is. No, really. Words cannot describe how fucked up.
Surprisingly, our school librarian endorsed this piece of... literature. So there. Endorsed. Woo. (When we say endorsed, we mean she read it and laughed)
Disclaimer: We do not lay claim to Lord of the Flies, or Torchwood, or any other fandoms mentioned. We do, however, own the plot bunny that made this happen. We call it Bruce. And the jar of Christmas Nutella (HIS NAME IS SUSAN). Because we can. And Susan is a snowman. Don't question it.
We do not take responsibility for any trauma or mental scaring of any kind, as well as injuries from ROFLing. We do, however take great pleasure in announcing our stories have the ability to produce WTF? moments. Seriously. We even have electronic evidence.
Author's Note below.
It all began one bright spring day when Jack's mother and father had a baby. They named the baby Jack, to fulfill the ancient prophecy made when they were named Jack's Mother and Jack's Father. The baby was a baby, which is to say he cried a lot and threw up and was just generally a baby, for the first few months.
Soon, Jack matured enough to speak and his parents eagerly awaited his first words. "Will it be da-da?" asked his father.
"I hope his first words are 'there is no ethical consumerism under capitalism'," said his mother dreamily.
Slowly, Jack's mouth began to form words. Both his parents watched, their faces lit with excitement. "KILL THE PIG DRINK IT'S BLOOD," the young infant wailed.
"That is majorly fucked up." said his mother.
"I'm sure it's fine. After all, my first words were 'FUCK THE POLICE'," His father assured.
"Well, good point."
"Also, fuck the police."
"This is why I married you." And then they made out. It was very hetrosexual.
As Jack grew, so did his hard on for pig murder. His parents tried to ignore it, but it was pretty hard, since Jack kept murdering all of the pet guinea pigs. Why did they keep buying him guinea pigs? After the 42nd time, you think they would have learned. Half of their money went to keeping Jack in guinea pigs.
Eventually, the family became destitute, having spent all their money on guinea pigs and cocaine (Look, if your son was a budding plot device in a book meant to talk about the downside of civilization and question if man is truly good, you would pick up some bad coping habits too). Jack's parents decided the only thing to do was to send their son to boarding school. In New York. In the 1920s. That's right motherfuckers, it was really Jack who ran over Myrtle. You only thought it was Daisy because he was wearing her skin as meat suit, as he was old school catfishing Gatsby. We all need hobbies, okay? Stop being so fucking judgemental.
After a time, Jack decided that he needed to branch out with his murder. He decided to go to London. In the fucking past. That's right, he was also Jack the Ripper. And the police officers who chased him. All of them. Jack is very talented. Very.
While all this was happening, Jack's parents had decided to go to rehab, both for their cocaine addiction and to get their marriage back on track. While they were there, a man was entered for being sexy. He was just too sexy for the old timey people with their laws against shit and their racism and their radios.
Jack's parents were not having much luck treating their cocaine addiction, mainly because people didn't recognize addiction as a 'thing' and because cocaine was in like cold medicine and shit. It would be many many many many many many many many years before people took mental health care seriously. If you're from the future, please tell me when it happens. I'll be here, with my crack fanfiction based on award winning novels because peer pressure is a thing okay? (Please, you love it). And yeah the books are good and stuff, but seriously, why does random people mocking shit by old white guys get people so upset? Calm down. Pet a puppy. Get a hobby. Mock some old dead white guys. Join a cult. Join a cult dedicated to mocking old dead guys and petting puppies. I don't control your life.
Anyway, the sexy sexy man was Captain Jack Harkness. My god, was he ever sexy. Jack's parents did the heart eye emoji. They had emotional boners for Jack Harkness. And real boners.
Just, so, so many boners for Jack Harkness. They approached him, while Jack leaned against the wall, watching, waiting, thinking about crack. Were the crack theories right? Could Cordelia and the Fool really be the same character? If the total evidence is the line "Oh my poor fool" that's not very much, bu' it does give a delicious irony to the 'there never was a good woman who made mouths in a glass".
Jack was consumed with these thoughts, and also jealousy because he never got to bang Shakespeare. Damn Martha and her sexy alien friend.
Suddenly Jack became aware of the couple approaching him and narrowed his big beautiful brown eyes in confusion, their names tags (Jack's mother and Jack's father respectively) confusing him.
"Who are you?" he asked them, and they fell to their knees at the sound of his voice, both imagining him performing the dirtiest of things with his luscious mouth (by which we mean singing 'I just had sex'. Get your minds out of the gutter. Perverts.).
They then broke out of rehab, because let's face it, it was not very helpful. They went on a picnic and discussed The Odyssey. They concluded, that it was a book. It was very much a book. With words and everything. Then they read the Metamorphosis and bragged to everyone they encountered that they'd done so, because Kafka was just like, so deep you guys. There were so many layers and shit. Just, so, so deep.
They then did adult things together. Like taxes. And keeping plants alive. And sex.
After, Jack's father came to a realization. "By saying that Jack was a murderer from the beginning doesn't the writer miss the point of the book? That man always has that inside them and the only thing keeping it in check is society?"
To which Jack's mother replied, "You do realize this was written due to a combination of peer pressure and the fact that someone didn't want to write a commentary on Lord Byron's Prometheus right?"
"Well, that person should probably go and do that, instead of writing cracky fanfic featuring people telling her to do that," Jack Harkness pointed out, which was a fair point but my life is a trainwreck, so does it even matter at this point?
"Also, could you please stop bringing up your son in the middle of sex? It's weird."
"Look, he worries me. He worries me a lot. He wore a woman as a meat suit. That's not normal."
Jack's mother tried to put an optimistic spin on it. "Maybe it's the cool new eco friendly trend? They say cows take like a billion hectares to raise right? What if instead of using cows for leather, we just used people!"
"Well, okay, but we eat cows for meat. Are you suggesting we do that with people?" Jack's father asked, horrified.
"There's always dead people. They don't mind, do they?"
"I used to talk to recent murder victims and that was less fucked up from this," Jack said. So Jack's parents gave him some cocaine to help him forget that conversation. Then they all did cocaine, because like I said, the old timey rehab was really ineffective. After some sexy drug fueled shenanigans (like Wolf of Wall Street style but I don't really remember anything about that because I tried to watch it with my parents and my dad screamed and hid my face in a pillow during those parts. he shut it off and swore never to speak of it again.(also, the pillow smelled bad)), Captain Jack went off to get some candy. Because nothing goes together like sex, drugs and candy (that's what I learned from that curious george movie). He was gone a long while, like a suspiciously long while. "This is just like the time my father went out to the corner shop for a pack of smokes and didn't come back for 13 years," Jack's mother said, worried.
"But unlike the corner shop of your childhood, we're not in that weird forest with all of the rabbit holes," Jack's father soothed. "He'll come back soon."
But Jack did not come back, in fact, he was abducted by his own parents. Thrown into the back of a pedo van, Jack sucked on one of the lollipops he had in his mouth (he could suck multiple suckers at a time). "Jack Harkness, we are not your real parents!" his mother sobbed as black tears rolled down her face (this woman wore a lot of mascara). Captain Jack just blinked, confused as he looked between his so called parental figures. "Aren't you that couple from Vegas? Damn, those were some good skittles!" His father blushed, clearing his throat as he remembered what had happened in Vegas that weekend (there was a lot of drunkeness). "Boy, you have a younger brother. His name is Merridew. Jack Merridew." And then Jack remembered. He remembered everything. He was the first Jack who was prophesied, but his parents (Jack's mother and Jack's father) had thought he was the child from the other prophecy and abandoned him. A pair of sex crazed hippies found him and he smoked weed every day until he met the Doctor. That sexy alien man. And shakespeare, because who knew what the famous bard could do with his tongue? (there were a lot of tongues involved). And then Jack fainted due to the amount ofnsugar he had eaten. And cocaine. Because that is a very bad combination.
Jack returned to Jack's mother and father, closing the door behind him as he rolled 3 lollipops in his mouth (seriously, how many can he fit in there? Is there some way we can find out?). Jack's mother cried, only her mascara was purple and green so she looked more like the Joker than a raccoon. And then Jack the Ripper burst out of his stomach, and Jack Merridew burst out of his, wearing a batman t-shirt, before giving his father a glasgow smile. And that's how the Joker was born.
Jack's mother watched, horrified. "Does this make me Harley Quinn? " she cried.
The only answer she got was "oh god my face my faceeee!"
"Look, I'm pondering the future of our relationship here, can you not? Also. Holy shit your face."
Jack Merridew shrugged. "I don't really care. In fact I'm leaving. To go to Spain. In the rain. To drink. And look at the hills. The hills like white elephants." And with that, he stabbed his mother in the knee. Because Jack was a twelve year old boy, okay? And he was very short for his age. This is what happens when you don't eat.
With her final breath, Jack's mother spoke.
"We get it, you have to read a lot of fancy shit in ap English. Why do you keep bringing this up?" And then she died.
"I am Groot." Groot said, wisely. Translated that means 'because I have a low self esteem and I grab any chance for self validation'. Of course, being a house plant does that to one's psyche.
Jack looked at him, cleaning his nails with his knife. He shrugged, picking up the dancing plant. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone that isn't using their skin at the moment, would you?"
"Groot."
Jack nodded. "I thought so."
Hello people of the internet, (both of you who are reading this).
It is I, Honey Badger again. Did you know that Flemming discovered penicillin? He did. He had nothing to do with this story. I believe this is the one hundred percent cannon origin of the Joker. It's this, not the Killing Joke, or that one really fucked up comic I read when I was like six because I took it from my cousin and holy shit it was so fucked up. Maybe Frank Miller wrote it? I have no idea. It had a white haired guy talking into a camera about how he wants to kill Batman and lock little girls in the sewers. I don't care enough at this point to look it up.
That's all she wrote, folks! Remember, nobody likes people who brag (yeah, that is definitely the lesson to take away from this :)).
