Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
"I come home in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right? Oh Mommy dear, we're not the fortunate ones, and girls, they wanna have fun! Oh girls just wanna have fun!"
Joker growled, slamming the door to his study shut. Harley was singing. And although he admitted the kid had a few talents, singing was not one of them. That didn't stop her from doing it, however. In liberating Harley from the chains of sanity, he had created a bit of a monster. A sort of child-monster, who said and thought and did whatever she felt at the time, without regard for the other people around her. She was a selfish little brat, always wanting his attention, always wanting to share in his fun and his schemes, completely dependent on his will and his approval. It was pathetic really, he thought, as he focused his attention back on his latest plan to trap Batman. Imagine being that obsessed with someone. You'd have to be crazy. Especially as he rarely showed any appreciation for the things Harley did. Imagine dedicating your life to someone who seemed fairly apathetic toward you at best, and downright abusive to you at worst. Completely nuts, he thought, wondering if Batman would notice that he had got a new suit. The bloodstains and rips from their last punch-up had pretty much destroyed the last one. It looked vaguely the same, but the purple was slightly darker, and surely Bats was the kinda guy to pay attention, being the World's Greatest Detective and all…
The door was flung open as Harley strode into the room, still singing as she ran the vacuum over the floor. "The phone rings in the middle of the night, my father yells whatcha gonna do with your life? Oh Daddy dear, you know you're still number one," she sang, kissing Joker's forehead. "But girls, they wanna have fun! Oh, girls just wanna have…"
"Stop making that racket!" shouted Joker. "I can't hear myself think!"
"What?" shouted Harley, turning off the vacuum.
"I said I can't hear myself think!" he growled.
Harley stared at him for a second and then pulled her headphones out of her ears. "Sorry, what's that, Mr. J?" she asked.
"Never mind," he growled. "Just keep quiet, would ya? I'm trying to work here."
"Ok, puddin', I'll stop singing," said Harley, kissing his forehead again. She turned on the vacuum again and began running it across the floor.
"Harley, not right now!" he yelled. "Working! Quiet, get it?!"
She turned the vacuum off again. "Sorry, Mr. J," she said. "Guess I'll vacuum later. Go ahead, puddin', I'll be quiet."
He sighed and turned his attention back to his plans. Harley pulled out a rag and began dusting around the room, whistling.
"Harley…" he hissed.
"Right, sorry, Mr. J," she said. There was silence for a moment, until Harley started popping the gum she was chewing. It wasn't a constant noise, just an occasional nuisance, which made it even more irritating than the singing, whistling, and vacuuming had been.
"Harley!" he shouted, rounding on her.
"What? I'm being quiet!" she snapped, glaring at him. She blew and popped another bubble, and he grabbed her chin, forced her mouth open, and picked out the gum, throwing it into the trash.
"Now beat it!" he snapped. "You can clean in here later when I'm not trying to concentrate!"
"Aw, but I wanna be with you, puddin'," she whined, trying to embrace him. "I miss you so much when you're working - at least let me be near you. Please, puddin'? I'll be really good and quiet – you won't even notice I'm here."
Joker nodded slowly. "All right. But sit down and shut up. Find a book or something."
Harley squeaked in delight and rushed out, returning a few moments later with a book. She pulled up a chair next to him and began reading.
For a few blissful minutes, there was silence. Then Harley began making noises. Not loud or particularly annoying noises – just slight murmurings and sighs, apparently in response to her book.
"Oh, shut up, you dumb broad!" she snapped suddenly. "Either sign the contract or don't, but stop going backwards and forwards! Honestly, the portrayal of women in modern literature is shocking! You got a brain – just make a decision and go with it! You'll like being a submissive, I promise!"
"What the hell are you reading?" demanded Joker.
Harley held up the book. "Red recommended it. Said I'd like it because the girl's in kinda an abusive, sado-masochistic relationship. But she's really taking her sweet time with it, and she's all drippy and personality-less. I don't know why Red thought I could relate."
"Yeah, well, either shut your useless mouth or take Fifty Lampshades and beat it before I beat you!" growled Joker.
Harley sighed. "See, puddin', that's how a real man talks to a woman," she sighed. "I don't even believe this guy is a dominant – he sure don't act like it. You didn't need to make me sign a contract or anything. You just did it because you knew I would like it, didn't ya, puddin'?" she sighed, nuzzling his cheek affectionately.
"Harley, for the last time, I'm working," he growled.
"Aw, c'mon, puddin'," she breathed. "This may be a crap book, but you can't help getting some ideas from some of the erotic scenes. I can read some of it out loud if you want – there's spanking in it, and I know you love your spanking, Mr. J. You wanna spank your Harley girl hard for interrupting your work? I can find the whoopie cushion…"
He seized her around the throat. "Get lost or I'll pound your skull into the wall!" he hissed, squeezing her neck.
"Oooh, puddin'!" she giggled. "I love it when you talk like that! What else of mine are you gonna pound?"
In response, he dragged her to the door and then threw her out of the room, slamming and locking it behind her. He opened it again suddenly and Harley turned back to him hopefully, only to be greeted with her book hitting her in the face, and the door being slammed and locked again.
She sighed heavily, picking up the book and rubbing her nose tenderly. "Well, that didn't work," she muttered to herself, heading back to their bedroom and dumping the book in the trash can. She reached under the bed and pulled out a small stack of self-help books, with titles like How To Be the Girl of His Dreams: A Woman's Guide to Making Herself Irresistable, 101 Nights of Passion: How to Keep Him Interested Night After Night and The Smart Woman's Guide to Love: How to Keep the Romance Alive in a Relationship. Most of them were written by a Dr. Laura Stewart, who professed in her biographical blurb to be "an expert in sexual health and relationships."
"Serenade him with a special song…be helpful around the house…try reading out erotica as a mood-setter," she read, and then snorted, tossing the book over her shoulder. "Yeah, if he don't throw you outta the room before you get a chance to set any kinda mood. None of this works with Mr. J," she sighed, flipping through the books sadly. "I guess I shouldn't have expected it to – Mr. J ain't like a regular guy. But it does mean I wasted about 75 bucks on them."
She sighed again and then paused at a page. "If he seems stressed about work, try surprising him with a romantic dinner and serve it to him in some sexy lingerie or roleplaying outfit. It'll make him forget his career troubles. I dunno," she muttered. "There ain't much that makes Mr. J forget his career, or the Bat. But it's worth a try, I guess."
She nodded firmly. "Better go shopping," she muttered, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. "Puddin'!" she called, pausing at his study. "I'm just going…"
"I said shut your goddamn face, you useless woman!" he roared, throwing open the door again and glaring at her furiously. "Do me a favor, go out and get hit by a bus, would ya, so I can finally get some work done, you worthless, annoying, utter waste of space!"
He slammed the door again. Harley smiled. "Love you too, puddin'!" she called. "Aw, the poor baby gets so stressed with work," she sighed, heading for the door. "This quiet, romantic dinner will be just what the doctor ordered."