The Joker stood in a room filled with his thugs, keeping to himself until he heard murmuring. He turned his head to the side, annoyed and found the source. One of his men, a heavy set one at that, was standing alone nervously twitching and mumbling to himself. It seemed like he was carrying on a conversation with his own self. A smile spread across the Joker's lips. Perfect. Looks like this one needs a little push. He strode over to the man and smiled at him.
"Tell me, uh, Chubby, what's eating you, huh?"
The man's eyes filled with tears as he shakily balled his hands into fists and raised them up to his ears. "No. I said no. P-please, boss. I-I can't get them to st…NO! I c-can't get them t-to…"
The Joker rolled his eyes, drawing closer to the man, and grabbed his balled up fists, pulling them down away from his face. "Hey. Hey. I can't understand you when you're, uh, mumbling like that. Contrary to, uh, popular belief I don't speak crazy. Do you mind answering my question in a language I can maybe comprehend, hm?"
The man nodded, letting a few tears fall from his eyes. "S-sorry. It's the voices, boss. Can't make 'em go away. They're driving me mad. I can't take it anymore."
The Joker smacked his lips and pulled them down into a frown, nodding sympathetically at the man. "Oh, that's too bad, really. Just terrible. You, uh, you want to know a little secret, Butterball? Hm?"
The man nodded.
The Joker leaned even closer into the man's personal space, having no regard for such things. His voice lowered as he licked his lips and his painted face grew serious. "Y'see, I know how to make that all go away. The voices. Everything."
The man's eyes suddenly lit up with hope. "Y-you do?"
"Of course I do. See, I know a lot of things most people wouldn't, uh, wouldn't think that I could possibly know. I'm kind of like a, uh, oh what's that phrase I'm looking for?" He pursed his mangled lips and drew his dark eyes up, searching for his answer. When it came to him he licked his lips, smiled, and brought his eyes back to the man. "Oh. Right. See, I'm like a Jack of All Trades. Now, do you want my help or not, Tons-of-fun?"
The man nodded eagerly. "Yessir."
The Joker's lips curled up into a huge grin. What a gullible asshole. Sometimes it was just too easy to get to some people. "Good. Now," he spun his head around the room, searching. His eyes fell on the old table set up in the far corner of the room diagonal from where they were standing. "Why don't you follow me, hm?"
The man nodded. He followed the Joker to the table and watched as he dug around in his coat, pulling out some explosives, a cell phone, and a spool of thread, a needle, and one of his knives. The man continued to watch as the Joker shrugged out of his coats, throwing them to the floor, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up past his elbows. The other thugs in the room with them silently watched too, not moving.
The Joker worked fast. His face was set in deep concentration as he wired the explosives to the cell phone. When he finished he set his handiwork on the table along with the needle and thread. He turned to the man who was watching him curiously. He pulled his lips into a half grin, gripping his knife tight in one hand, and gestured to the table with his other hand. "Why don't you, uh, make yourself comfortable, hm?"
The man stared wide-eyed back at the still smiling Joker. "Boss?"
"It would be in your best interest to, uh, not make me ask you again," he licked his lips, and raised his eyebrows once at the man to accentuate his point. "You either want my help or you don't. Choice is yours, but I'm not going to stand here and wait while you and the, uh, Brady Bunch in your head make up your mind. Got it?"
The man cautiously walked towards the table and sat on it, the legs creaking under his weight. "O-ok."
The Joker let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "No, no, no. More comfortable than that. Come on, now."
He didn't wait for the man to reply. He shoved the man on his back with one hand. He kept the man pinned and with his other hand he used his knife to tug the man's t-shirt up to his chest.
"B-boss? P-please. You said you were going to help. You d-didn't say you were going to hurt me. P-please."
The Joker rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated growl, holding the man in place still with one arm. "I am going to help you. You know I'm a man of my word. I wouldn't lie to you," he looked down at the man, his face genuinely calm. "But, uh, I never said it wouldn't hurt. Did I? Hm?"
The man shook his head. "N-no. P-please, boss. What are you going to do?"
The Joker sighed, licked his lips, and grinned wide at the man. "I'm going to make the voices go away."
The man swallowed a lump of pure fear down his throat, tears now rolling down his chubby cheeks. He spoke between sobs, "P-please! D-don't hurt me! P-please!"
The Joker's angry face was right in front of the man's now, glaring at him. "If you don't shut up I will kill you right now!"
The man nodded and held his mouth shut tight, sobbing through his nose, desperately praying for some sort of mercy from the Joker.
"Muuuch better," the Joker's lips were curled up into a smile again. "Now, do you still want my help or not?"
The man hesitated before finally asking, "W-what are you g-going to d-do to me?"
The Joker let go of the man and carefully picked up the bomb he had just constructed, holding it in front of the man's face, smiling at him. "Well, I'm going to go inside you and I'm going to make the voices go away like I said I would; with this. Now," he paused sensing the man's utter terror and reveling in it with a smile. "Before you go and, uh, freak out on me again I need you to answer this little question for me. Do you, uh, do you like Christmas, Jelly Belly?"
The man stared up in confusion. "C-Christmas?"
The Joker nodded. ""Yes, Christmas. Y'know of the, uh, Holly Jolly variety."
The man nodded, understanding. "Oh. Y-yes. I like Christmas."
The Joker smiled, patting the man roughly on his large exposed gut. "Of course you do. Now, you, uh, you know how at Christmas time there's always all sorts of, uh, fucking bright and cheery lights everywhere?"
The man nodded. A smile of recognition and happy memories spread across his face. "I love the lights. They're pretty."
The Joker nodded at him, still smiling. "Well that's what it's going to be like. I'm just, uh, just going to go inside and replace all those, uh, pesky voices with nice bright lights. Just. Like. Christmas."
The man was still smiling, his mind on a happy Christmas scene and the prospect of being better. "Ok. Go ahead. I'm ready."
The Joker laughed at the pathetic fat man. He patted him hard on the cheek before he called over the rest of his men in the room. "Hold him down for me, boys."
The men listened and quickly surrounded the table, holding the man down on all sides. The Joker stepped in, his knife in his grip, and effortlessly cut the man open below his navel. The man screamed in pain, blood pooling out of the incision and around the table, as the Joker merrily hummed the tune to Jingle Bells. He grabbed the bomb and pulled the incision apart so that he could fit his hand inside along with the bomb. He shoved his hand with the bomb up inside the bleeding wound; pushing it up past the screaming man's navel. He made sure it was set and would stay in place before he grabbed the thread and needle with his blood soaked hand and stitched the man up haphazardly in a zig-zag pattern.
The last thing the man saw before he passed out from the horrific pain was the Joker's wild smiling face, exclaiming loudly with a fit of uncontrollable laughter, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"