"Harley, baby, how are you?" said Mrs. Quinzel, hugging her daughter tightly. "Oh, it's been too long since we've seen you! Your father and I always miss you so much, don't we, George?"
"Yes, we do, Harley," agreed Mr. Quinzel, embracing his daughter and kissing her cheek. "But you're looking well."
"I am, Dad," she agreed. "Oh, it's so good to see you both! Come on inside and meet the family!" she said, gesturing inside.
Her parents entered and froze at the remains of the chaos displayed before them. "You remember Mr. J?" said Harley, smiling and trying to pretend that nothing was wrong.
"Hi, good to see you both again!" said Joker, beaming.
"These are our pets, Bud and Lou," she said, gesturing to the hyenas, who were sniffing her parents warily. Harley's parents looked at them equally warily until the hyenas yipped happily and then licked them in greeting.
"And these are your grandkids! This is Arleen, and J.J.," said Harley, gesturing at them. "They've just had a little foodfight with their father, so try to ignore the…vegetable mush."
"What does J.J. stand for?" asked her father, slowly.
"Joker Junior, of course," said Harley.
"I see," he muttered. Mrs. Quinzel was cooing over the children, who gazed up at her in wonder.
"Oh, they're just so adorable, Harley!" she said, beaming at them. "Hello, angels, I'm grandma," she said. "Can you say grandma?"
"Gwanna," said Arleen, holding out a chubby fist and smiling.
"They love meeting new people – they're really friendly!" said Harley. "Aren't you, sweeties?"
"Lellie oh!" said J.J., smiling as he returned his grandmother's kisses.
"Oh, they're just so precious!" Mrs. Quinzel cooed.
"You wanna hold 'em?" asked Joker, passing the children across to Mrs. Quinzel. "Mind the food blobs on your nice clothes there…"
"Oh yes, hi, babies!" she cooed, rocking them. "Come and see them, George!"
Mr. Quinzel joined his wife, and couldn't suppress a smile at seeing his grandchildren. "Little Arleen looks just like Harley did at her age," he said, stroking her cheek. "And J.J. is quite…a handsome young man."
"Beda lee!" said J.J., holding out his arms to his grandfather.
Mr. Quinzel took him, smiling down at his happy face. "He's got your eyes, Harley."
"Yeah, they both do," she agreed, stroking Arleen's hair back. "Got their Daddy's smile though. That's why they're so beautiful."
She kissed Joker, and J.J. suddenly started crying. "Aw, I think you're holding him a bit too tightly, Dad," said Harley, hurrying to see to J.J. Mr. Quinzel had unconsciously found himself tensing up in anger at seeing his daughter kiss the Joker, and his grip on J.J. had been harder than he'd originally intended. He soothed him gently, feeling terrible that he had taken his fury out on the child, however unintentionally. The son may resemble his father, but he was certainly innocent of his crimes.
J.J. wiped a bit of baby food from his shirt onto his hand, and held it up to his grandfather. "Gah gah?" he said, smiling.
"No, thank you, sweetie, Grandpa doesn't want that," said Harley, taking J.J. from him. "Why don't I take you and your sister to get a quick bath and change you into some non-food-dyed clothes, and leave your Daddy here to get to know your grandparents?"
"Oh, I can take the kids for a bath, Harl…" began Joker.
"No, no, you can stay here and entertain my folks," she said, heading for the door. "It'll be good for you all to talk and get to know each other better. Y'know, my parents probably only really know you from the papers – it'll be good for them to experience the real you."
She shut the door to the bathroom, leaving the Joker and her parents alone.
"So…either of you want a drink?" asked Joker, smiling. "Unless your people don't drink – I don't wanna offend you," he added, hastily. "Do your people drink? Is it offensive for me to ask that?"
"Uh…no," said Mrs. Quinzel, slowly. "That is, it's not offensive to ask, and yes, we do occasionally drink."
"Great! What's your poison?" he asked, heading over to the bar.
"I hope that's a figure of speech," muttered Mr. Quinzel.
Joker laughed. "Good joke, Mr. Q! Got a sense of humor, huh?" he asked, turning to smile at him. His face fell when he saw Mr. Quinzel wasn't smiling. "Oh…you were serious," he said, slowly. Then he laughed. "Well, I may be a homicidal lunatic, but I ain't gonna murder my own in-laws! Well, not unless you really bug me, like the stereotypical in-laws!" he chuckled. "But I certainly wouldn't kill anyone with poison – that ain't really my style. Unless Joker toxin counts. I like the people I kill to know they've been served up a Joker special – poison's just a bit too subtle for me. I ain't a subtle guy."
He finished mixing two cocktails and handed them to Harley's parents. "There ya go! Two Joker specials! Oh, not like the Joker special I was talking about earlier," he added, hastily. "This won't make you laugh uncontrollably and die with a permanent grin on your face."
"Well…thank you, Joker," said Mrs. Quinzel, as her husband eyed the cocktails suspiciously.
"Oh please, call me J," he said. "Or, y'know, son, if you prefer!" he chuckled.
"I most certainly do not," snapped Mr. Quinzel. His wife elbowed him the ribs.
"Shall we make a toast?" she said, raising her glass. "J?"
"Oh yeah, yeah, sure, Mrs. Q," Joker said. "Uh…mazel tov! Next year in Jerusalem! L'Chiam! To life, to life, l'chiam! L'chiam, l'chiam, to life! Bet you guys like that Fiddler on the Roof musical, huh? If I were a rich man, yubby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dum, all day long I'd biddy biddy bum, if I were a wealthy man. I wouldn't have to work hard, ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum, if I were a biddy biddy rich, idle-diddle-daidle-daidle man!"
The Joker had been singing, and doing an approximation of Tevye's dance, which caused Harley's parents to stare at him in concern, and Bud and Lou to start whimpering in terror.
"…yeah, I just watched that movie in preparation for your arrival, so it's stuck in my head," explained Joker, noticing the looks he was getting.
"Why don't we just…stop dancing and sit down?" suggested Mrs. Quinzel.
"Yeah, good idea, Mrs. Q. Probably best," said Joker, taking a seat across from them on the sofa. An awkward silence descended on them, until the Joker spoke up at last.
"Sorry about the Holocaust," he said. "If it's any consolation, I hate Nazis too."
"…yes, all decent people do," muttered Mr. Quinzel.
"Aw, you think I'm decent! I'm touched, Mr. Q, I really am!" chuckled Joker. "I think that's one of the nicest things I've ever been called! And that's progress, right?"
Neither of them knew how to respond to that, but fortunately they were spared the trouble by Harley re-entering the room with a freshly cleaned and changed Arleen and J.J. "There now, you can see your grandkids without goo all over them," she said, handing them to her parents. "What was that noise I heard in here earlier?"
"I think that was the father of your children," said Mr. Quinzel, lightly. "Singing and dancing."
"It was Fiddler on the Roof," explained Joker. "Thought it'd make them feel at home!"
Harley looked at him in confusion. "They live in an apartment in Brooklyn, not Anatevka, puddin'," she retorted.
"Well, y'know, memories of the homeland," he said, shrugging.
"These are very interesting…dogs you have, Harley," said Mr. Quinzel, eyeing the hyenas as they curled up at their feet.
"They're hyenas, Dad," said Harley, bending down to pet them.
He stared at her. "Hyenas?" he repeated. "You mean…they're wild animals?"
"Nah, Bud and Lou couldn't survive in the wild!" chuckled Joker. "I had them imported over here as puppies. They're completely domesticated. Well, they can devour a whole animal carcass in under a minute, and if they're really provoked, they kill people, but they're harmless, really," he said, scratching their bellies. "And they just love the kiddies."
"Bug a roo," said J.J., pointing at the hyenas.
"Rawr rawr," agreed Arleen.
"You mean…you let the children play with wild animals?" said Mr. Quinzel, slowly.
"Well, as Mr. J just said, they're not wild," retorted Harley. "And you should see 'em with the kids. They just adore them."
"All the same, I'm not sure it's such a good idea," said Mrs. Quinzel, gently. "You know they say wild animals can never be fully tamed."
"They say that about wild people too, but some people still try," muttered Mr. Quinzel, knocking back his drink.
There was an awkward tension in the air again, which Harley relieved by standing up. "Well, why don't I start dinner?"
"No, no, I'll cook, Harley," said Joker firmly, pressing her forcefully back down on the sofa. "You stay here with the kids and your parents. She's a terrible cook anyway – she'd screw the whole thing up somehow!" he chuckled.
"Puddin', that's not a very nice thing to say about me in front of my parents!" hissed Harley.
"It's true!" he said, defensively. "They must know it's true! She must have cooked for you before, right?" he asked them. "Back me up here! It always tastes like crap!"
"I'll admit Harley has things she's better at than cooking," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "Although her taste in men isn't one of them."
"George, promise!" reminded Mrs. Quinzel.
"I'm sorry, Gladys, but I'm not going to let this meshugener insult our daughter and laugh it off like some joke!" he snapped. "Even if that's how he sees everything, including his life and his family!"
Joker said nothing. "Well, I admire your chutzpah, Mr. Q," he said at last. "But if all you're gonna do is kvetch at me, I'll schlep off to the kitchen now and save myself the tsuris. Hope the oven don't glitch and leave us with nothing but drek!" he laughed, heading off.
Harley buried her face in her hands. It was gonna be a long visit.