The Joker smiles at the camera, that wild, crooked, permanent smile of his. He shakes it up a bit before he laughs his trademark cackle. The screen suddenly is focused on a dead boy, Joker make-up on his cold face. The mad man speaks in a harsh whisper.
"I'm still here, Gotham. Alive and kicking!"
As he says the last word, he kicks the limp body, causing it to fall over and create a dull thud.
"Come and get mE, ho heee ha HaA hA..."
I turn off the TV and go sit with my family at the dinner table. I begin to pick at my squash. I produce a loud sigh and I lean my head on my hand. My eyes search for the clock, it's only 6: 27. As I eat, I let my mind wander.
I am so fucking bored with. My. Life. Not that it's boring, it's pretty alright, steady, okay. According to mostly everyone in my high school. But not to me. I like excitement. There's none in my life at this point, it's all...mundane. I don't really like that.
At school...I'm just there. If I had it my way, I wouldn't even be wasting my life there. But of coarse my parents make me go--and the law of the land. The only reason I'm not sitting in the back of the room and just barely passing my classes (like the way I want to), is because I would disappoint my parents. Well, they'd get piss angry at me. And then kick me out. I may be lazy but I'm not ignorant.
As if I could survive in Gotham City without a home, family, and money. So I just have to get through my last 2 years at Jefferson's High. It's not so bad really, the work isn't hard. But it does anger me by how we're forced to learn idiotic things that will definitely not help us in the 'real world' whatsoever. Just so the adults can get rid of us for a few more years. It annoys me, the whole 'system'.
Some times I think, "What's the point?" We go through all this trouble just to live everyday in mock happiness. And then we pass it on to our children, this whole stupid cycle will never end, will it? Since we are born, we are thrust into this ridiculous cycle. First, we go to elementary school, which prepares us for middle school, which prepares us for high school, which prepares us for college, which prepares us for the world. But then all we have to do in society is get a job, find a spouse, get a nice house, and pop out a couple of rugrats. Then it continues onto them. We wait patiently for a few grandchildren, then we can die peacefully.
I will never do that.
I think life and society are stunningly flawed. But they do have a system and most of the people follow it's rules. I'd rather not. But of coarse I do, I don't want to get in trouble, do I? Nooo, that'd be bad. Sometimes I tell my parents, if not just to piss them off, that I'm going to quit school and become a hobo. I'm only half-joking when I say that. It would be interesting, challenging, fun. I've already decided that college is out of the question, I'm not going to completely waste my youth.
I've always wondered how it would be like to run away. I tried once, just for the heck of it, when I was 8. I packed my clothes and toys up in my Power Rangers backpack, put on a cool flowery denin hat, and went on my way. I didn't get very far. My parents thought it was adorable, they thought I was just playing dress-up. They took pictures. Finally, when they were done laughing, I walked out the front door. I was just about to get on the elevator of our apartment building, when they noticed that I was gone. Oh, I was for real about leaving. I haven't tried it since.
But they have threatened to kick me out, because I'm not perfect. Because I get 95's on tests and not 100's. Because I don't live up to my full potential, or their expectations. Because I don't exactly see eye to eye with them. I'm a good girl, I get good grades, and I listen, most of the time. I'm a better daughter than most in my school. But they say I'm ungrateful, that I was lucky to be born into such a nice family. That's when I want to shout that they're not the fucking greatest mother fuckers out there. That they've got flaws, too. That they're not perfect either. That they should be grateful to me, for not being like the other idiotic teenagers out there, who do drugs and have sex like some people breath. And they're rude too, which is annoying.
But I don't. And they forgive and forget. I don't, though, I always remember the mean words. But those are the bad fights. And I know that they love me and they're just trying to do what's best for me. But what's best for me isn't really what they have in mind. And deeeeep down, I love them, well, at least I can stand them.
Truthfully, I haven't been all that cheery and happy these...months. I'm not depressed, or at least I don't think I am. Not that anyone would notice. No, it's not because people don't like me and ignore me, nor is it because I have no friends, I actually do have a few close friends from school. It's because I don't show them that side of me. Why should I bother them with my troubles? In school and in public, I'm this nice, funny, charming, shy girl with no problems. But at home, I'm completely different. I'm still nice and sweet and whatever else I am, but I'm more relaxed, more mature, less hyper, more me. The me that doesn't try to have friends (because I truly couldn't care less).
I'm not a very happy person, but when I'm with them, this whole other person comes out. They make me happy, and I am very grateful to them for that. But the friends in school are...just that, friends that I have in school. I almost never hang out with them after it, that's why I have friends that don't go to my school, so I can hang out with them during the weekends. I did have a best friend. She's a senior now. She doesn't go my my school. I met her when I was 3. We've been like this ever since. But then she moved across the country a year ago. We haven't really been in contact since. She kinda broke my heart, not in the lesbo sense, but still, it hurts.
So I more or less dropped my friends from school. I got less active in our conversations and some of them completely stopping being friends with me. It was kind of a test, who would stick by my side after that, only a few stayed with me. But that's okay, I'd rather be alone these days anyway. You don't really have a lot of time to think to yourself when you're surrounded by babbling girls. I'd rather think than talk about gossip.
I used to be totally into sports, up until my freshman year. Tennis was my thing. I did it for fun, but my coach and family wanted me to go into competitions. I didn't like that very much. I don't like the way competition makes people, mean and wild. After my first official match (which I lost, by the way), I quit. Nobody could figure out why. My dad still comes up to me and asks if I would like to go play him, but I always deny. Unless he forces me... And my mom is mad at me for stopping. She says that I'm a quitter, and that I'll always be one. I'd have to agree on her with that one. I started any sport humanly imaginable, and I quit every single one. I also have dreams, that I usually follow. But before I begin training as a ninja, doctor, writer, ect., I find a new obsession. Eh, it's me.
The only thing that amuses me these days is TV. I'm not talking about reruns of Gilmore Girls, it's something much more real. It's more exciting than Fear Factor... it's the news. And particularly, the one man that stars in it every night. Well, two, but I'm talking about the crazy one, Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime. He keeps the whole city on its toes. He's just so...interesting...fascinating.
Oh, how I'd love to see him in action just once. I know it sounds crazy, but everytime I go to the bank with my mother or father, I secretly wish that he would make that grand entrace of his and rob the shit of the place. I am still made at myself for not saying hi to him the one time I saw him in the alleyways. Well, he was busy (carving some guy up, I suppose) so I think interrupting him would not have been such a smart idea. I'm freaking too shy when it comes to...celebrities.
I scarf down the last of my squash soup and excuse myself from the dinner table. It's almost 7 and the evening news will start soon. I drag my feet over to the balcony and slip outside into the brisk night air. My family is middle class, but we don't live in a house. Since we reside in the heart of Gotham City, where space is limited, we were forced to buy a semi-big apartment in one of Gotham's building complexes. We were lucky, ours is pretty nice looking and the neighborhood isn't that bad.
"Abigael; news is on." I whisk my head in the direction of my fathers voice.
"Coming!" I call back to him. He always gets a little worried if I stay out too long, even if its on our balcony that's 20 feet off the ground, making it almost impossible for some guy to come up and "snatch me away".
Then I realize what he just called me. Only adults and not-so-close relatives call me "Abigael", everyone else just sticks to "Abi". Every since I turned 16, a forth of a year ago, my father's insisted in calling me by my full name. It's really annoying. I keep telling him not to do it and he listens...for maybe half a week. Thank God I don't have a fucking middle name. And speaking of God, it also annoys me when people think I'm Jewish just because my name is Hebrew. Not that being Jewish is bad, it's just that I'm Atheist (or maybe I'm Agnostic? I'm still not 100% sure of my beliefs) and it's well...ignorant to assume.
"Dad, I told you to call me Abi. Say it with me now: Ah-beee," I retort as I come back inside and take a seat on the living room couch.
"Ha haa. You're so clever, Abi." My father is a tall man, and my mother a tall women. So how the fuck did I end up with my measly 4'11" stature? How the hell does that even happen? I got screwed over. My doctor said that I still have a chance to grow, but I don't believe her. Afterall, she was the one who told me that I'd be as tall as my mom by the time I was 15. Boy, was that a disappointing birthday.
I stare at my TV and see some dyed blonde with the whitest teeth I've ever seen, TV or not, reporting from the streets of Gotham. For a moment I think about maybe persuing a career like that, but I quickly change my mind. I am not good with meeting new people, and it would be just torture if I had to ask them questions about "what they've just witnessed". I turn my attention back to Barbie.
"...on the scene with another victim. Sir, what happened?"
A hobo with a raggedy beard appears on camera.
"Yeah, uh, I was just there, mindin' my own b'ness, when this...like, clown comes up to me all crazy like and starts ta talk ta me 'bout 'is scars. He den points a gun up at ma head and drags me into dis, uh, uh..."
The reporter looks at him and then flashes an all knowing smils at the camera, as if sharing a joke with the whole world.
"The library, sir?"
She finishes for him.
'I bet she thinks she's so smart,' I note in my mind.
The man gives her a toothless smile in appreciation.
"Yeah, dat's it. And den he uses me a shield, or something like dat, and tells ev'one ta get dahn. All of dah peoples get dahn, o'course. He den asks dah main...uh, librarian ta, uh, gi' 'im all dah books. An' I'm sittin' here all confused, 'cause I dunno who in dere right minds would steal books. It mind boggles me."
He shakes his head slowly. The reporter nods her head in agreement.
"Was the man alone?"
"Uh, yeah, he was alone. And he didn't hurt no body, either. He just took some books and left. Dat's all, ma'am."
"Thank you. And we're certainly glad nobody was hurt."
She shakes the hobo's hand and turns back to the camera. The man lingers in the shot a little before unknown hands shoo him away.
"Well, there you have it, folks. The Joker just seems to get stranger and stranger with every heist. What's he planning to do with a few copies of classics? Is it some sort of new idea he's cooking up for the demise of Gotham? And will the notorious Batman be here to save us once again? More at 11. Back to you, Jeff."
Barbie smiles at the camera until the shot cuts to a picture of the man of the hour, war paint and all. It then goes to a balding middle aged man.
"Thank you, Amy. In other news..."
I turn off the TV for I have no interest in the "other news".
'Hmm, the Joker wanted books. I think it's time to go check some out myself, I do have that report on the Cold War due next Monday afterall...' I get up and go into the kitchen, where my mom is chopping carrots for her diet salad. She didn't hear the latest news so she shouldn't be suspicious of my sudden interest in school. Well, I do like to read so maybe not...Even though I know that we will not be there, I wanted to see what kind of books interest the coolest guy in Gotham.
"Mom, is it okay if I go to the library tomorrow? I need to check out some books for a project," I coo sweetly.
Her back's turned to me as she replies. "Of coarse it is, Abi. I'll go with you, though."
I scowl at the back of her head. Then I smile. "Duh." Who cares if she comes along?
Hopefully, tomorrow will be interesting.