"Good morning! It's 7:00, and you're listening to WVLN, 104.3 FM – music for villainous henchmen and masterminds alike. We have a shout-out this morning for Control Freak from Jinx at the H.I.V.E. which says: 'Stop looking at my ass, you goddamn Freak. There is no chance in hell that I will even go on a date with you, let alone fondle anything downstairs. Get a life, you sad sack of crap and, most of all – LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

Ooo! Well, Mr. Freak, sorry about how that's turning out for ya. Let's get back into the music. There's one you old timers might remember – a classic from the Steve Miller Band, only on 104.3 – Villains' Radio!"

Joker's eyes opened. The alarm clock flashed in his face as he lay in his bed. Once again, that dream had come. Once again, the alarm had brought him back down to Earth. Still, it was a good sign. He still had the determination – even if the last couple of months hadn't been too kind to the Clown Prince of Crime. Then again, no one can stay on top forever…

Getting up from the prone position, the villain sat on the edge of his bed. Harley was absent. Probably already downstairs making breakfast. She had been a rock for him in the past couple of months as he tried to get back on his feet. Years of insane plans and twisted schemes had left the Joker feeling almost…normal. That's when he suspected the worst. He was in worse shape than he ever imagined…

The Joker, the most feared man in Gotham outside of the Bat, was having a mid-life crisis. Not pretty. Not pretty at all. Mid-life crises weren't fun for the average person. Chances were they would not be too enjoyable for the mentally-unstable villain. Thankfully, things hadn't been too bad…except for the singing.

As the Joker got up from his bed, he pulled his t-shirt off. Smelling it, his eyes crossed.

"Time to shower and be ready for the day," he muttered to himself. As he started the shower, he turned up the radio as Steve Miller belted out his classic:

You're the cutest thing
That I ever did see
I really love your peaches
Wanna shake your tree.
a Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time
Ooo-eee baby, I'll sure show you a good time

Cause I'm a picker
I'm a grinner
I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun…

By this time the Joker was already in the shower. Once again, the singing began. But this time, it was the villain himself belting out his own twisted version of the song:

I'm the Joker

Gonna smoke ya

Tie you down and choke ya

I sure on planning to hurt someone…

The shower came to an end. After toweling off, the villain tried his hand at styling his hair. It was a useless gesture, he knew, but it was fun to see his green mane in a different do – right until it sprang back into its normal form. Then came time to brighten the pearly whites. This, of course, must be done with a comically oversized toothbrush. Normally these gags would have been saved for his nemesis, but he hadn't been out and about for nearly six months. Still, his insanity was willing to believe that somewhere in the world someone was watching him. Might as well give them a show…whoever they were…

Stepping back into the room, he opened his closet. Before him hung a multitude of outfits – all the same outfit, to be precise. Still, to please the audience in his mind, he made a big deal out of choosing his suit for the day. This one? Nah. About this? Nope. How about…a tutu? Um…stuff it back in and try again. This one? Yeah, that'll do.

Dressing for the Joker meant looking his best. Granted, it was always for a mug shot, but you might as well do it right the first time, right? Well-polished shoes, white gloves, the legendary purple suit and pants, a nice dress shirt and a corsage that sprays acid. Ah, always a nice touch. Good work, Joker. Ready for the day.

Harley Quinn sat downstairs in the converted warehouse domicile. Before her sat a plate of what seemed to be burnt pancakes. She never had been too good of a cook. Those skills were the least of her worries as of the moment as the Joker came sliding down the banister of the stairs. Feet hitting the floor, he was in a particularly jaunty mood on this day.

"Hello, Harley," he said cheerfully as he danced past her to the refrigerator.

"Hello, Mista J," the woman said. Compared to her usual method of greeting him, her voice seemed rather deflated than bubbly. The Joker, however, didn't seem to notice it as he reached for the orange juice. Making sure she wasn't looking, he took a drink right out of the container.

"Harley, I had that dream again," he said in a sing-song tone as he put the carton back.

"Really?" the woman said, sighing. "Wish it were real…"

The quiet remark got the Joker's attention. Standing up quickly, he whacked the back of his head on the top of the fridge. Eyes crossed, he finally stood back up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his eyes evening back out.

Looking back at him was the girl who had fallen madly in love with him. Right now, however, she didn't look too thrilled to be with him.

"Mista J, I have been with you for all these years," she began, her eyes being to tear up behind her mask and threatening to smear her face paint. "I have helped you do some crazy things – and I have enjoyed every second of it. But this…I just can't stand this! All day you sit around and watch talk shows! You're not the man that I fell in love with anymore, Mista J! I'm a girl who needs excitement – and violence! You're not giving me any of that, Mista J! I…I just can't take this anymore!"

The Joker stood before her, rather stone-faced as she began crying. "Harley, uh…shouldn't you already have tried to annoy me by now by calling me 'puddin'?"

The woman looked back at him with a mix of anger and impatience. "I'm…I'm sorry, but I just can't do this anymore…"

"HARLEY!" the villain yelled as the woman ran up the stairs and closed the door to her room. "Come on! I just…"

Sighing, the villain realized he had said the wrong thing. He was getting pretty good at that in his older years. Used to be he always had a snappy comeback. Now…well, it just didn't feel the same.

Looking down at the pate of pancakes, he picked one up and took a bite. His face immediately turned into a mask of disgust. Still couldn't cook worth damn after all these years. Still, he was hungry. After managing to choke down two of the offending cakes, he reached back into the fridge and came up with the surplus-sized bottle of maple syrup. Popping the top, he took a big swing of the sticky liquid. Hell, if those guys in Super Troopers could do it, then he could handle it. Maybe a bit of a sugar high, but that's nothing to write home about.

As the syrup went back into the fridge, the phone over on the counter went off. Probably a telemarketer. Hmm, time for a little fun.

"City Morgue," Joker said as he put the call on speaker. "You kill 'em, we chill 'em. You bash 'em, we stash 'em. No fetus can beat us. Can I take your order?"

"Hello, Joker," the voice came over the line. Despite the tone, the villain recognized it to belong to Lex Luthor, the criminal mastermind that ran LuthorCorp in Metropolis. Why he was calling the Clown Prince of Crime was anyone's guess.

"You know, Lex, it's no fun when you don't play along," Joker said, rather dejected.

"Never been one for fun," the man said. "At least, not your kind of fun."

"Aw, that hurts me in places I'd rather not mention," the villain said, laughing. "Although I could mention 'em if you want…"

"No thanks, Joker," Luthor said. "Listen, I have a bit of a situation that I need your help with."

At this, the Joker stood up, an incredulous look on his face. "ME?" he asked. "Why that's so thoughtful! And I didn't get you anything!"

"Consider it an early Christmas present," the man said. "How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on the way," Joker said. "Just need to get me and Harley packed."

"No offense," Luthor said, quickly, "but I'd prefer if you came alone."

"Right," the villain mused. "It'd be good to get out of the house after all. Besides, Harley's been a real bitch lately. This time apart could do wonders for us!"

"Fine, whatever," the businessman said. "I'll see you soon."

"You know it, Lexxy," Joker said, smiling. "Ta-ta…"

As the phone hung up, the villain danced himself a merry little jig. Lex Luthor needed him – the Joker – for something big. Dashing up the stairs to his room, the spark was back. This could be the one thing he needed to get back on top. Yessir, today might just be a good day after all…