"I like that they don't sing as much in this one," said J.J., interrupting the story. "We've had enough singing tonight."
"I like singing," said Arleen. "But it makes more sense for them not to sing – it's not like everyone in Arkham would automatically know the words to the same song. It helps make the story more realistic."
"Well, that's my primary concern in a story about witches and wizards, Leenie," said Joker, nodding.
"Well, c'mon, Daddy, even in a fantasy story, people have gotta act in a natural way," replied J.J., shrugging. "It's even more important in a fantastical story – otherwise how are the audience supposed to relate? If everyone just acts weird and random, there's no human interest, and what's the point of the story without that?"
"Too true, J.J.," agreed Joker. "You got a good grasp of narrative structures for a nine-year-old."
"I do a lotta reading," he said, shrugging.
"Yeah, you both get that from your mother," said Joker, shaking his head. "I don't remember reading a lot as a kid. But then I don't remember much about being a kid, or a huge chunk of my life, actually."
"That's cool, though, Daddy," said Arleen. "Because if you don't know who you used to be, you can be anyone you want! Maybe you were a prince! And that would make me a princess!"
"Well, you are a princess, sweetness," cooed Joker, kissing her. "Because your Daddy is the Clown Prince of Crime!"
"Oh yeah!" said Arleen, beaming. "So I'm the Clown Princess?"
"You're whatever you want to be, angelface," he said.
Arleen smiled. "Hear that, J.J.?" she asked. "We're royalty!"
"Does that mean we don't have to obey bedtimes?" asked J.J., excitedly.
"No, Mommy outranks you both," retorted Harley. "And you both have to have bedtimes, right after Daddy finishes his story."
"Make it a long story, Daddy," pleaded J.J.
"Yeah!" exclaimed Arleen, lying back on her pillows and cuddling Bud and Lou.
"Well, even a Clown Prince knows it's sometimes better for his health to obey your mother," said Joker. "She can use a hammer when she has to, and the ways she uses it ain't always fun."
Harley kissed Joker's forehead as he adjusted her on his lap. "So anyway, Harley, the Scarecrow, Bud and Lou all walked along the Purple Brick Road for a little while until they came to a forest full of apple trees."
"Yum, I'm starved!" exclaimed Harley, reaching up to pick one of the overhanging apples.
"No, don't…" began Scarecrow, but his warning came too late. Harley had grabbed an apple off the tree, and the tree had responded by swatting at her with its branches.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" it demanded.
"Sorry!" exclaimed Harley, dropping the apple in shock. "I didn't know…you could talk…"
"So you go around stealing and ripping pieces off living things just because they can't talk?" demanded the tree. "What kinda terrible person are you?!"
"But…you're a tree," stammered Harley.
"Harley, come here, my dear," said Scarecrow, pulling her away from the tree before it could lash out at her again. "Poison Ivy has enchanted most of the plants in Arkham to be able to communicate. It's all part of her flora equality campaign. You have to treat them as you would treat people, and ask permission before you take their fruit. Which I doubt will be forthcoming after you just tried to steal from them. Fortunately, I have an alternate plan."
He approached the trees. "Honestly, Harley, you're better off without apples from those trees," he said, loudly. "The rumor is they cross-pollinated with an inferior genus and produce tasteless fruit. Plus they're crawling with worms."
"How dare you?" demanded the tree. "We're from the finest pedigree…"
"Yes, an infested one," retorted Scarecrow.
"Why, you little…" shrieked the tree, grabbing apples from its branches and throwing them at Scarecrow, who easily avoided their shots.
"Great job, Johnny!" exclaimed Harley, rushing to collect the fallen apples.
"It's called reverse psychology, my dear, and it's terribly effective when dealing with the less intelligent," said Scarecrow. "And plants don't have much in the way of brains."
Harley scrambled to grab all the apples, heading off the path into the woods. She bent to pick an apple up when her eyes fell upon an unusual sight, and that was saying something after the day she had already had.
It appeared to be a giant block of ice. And inside the block was a man wearing a weird suit and apparently frozen inside.
Harley stared at him. "Johnny!" she called. "Come over and see this!"
"What is it, my dear?" Scarecrow asked, hurrying over.
"It's an…Ice Man," stammered Harley.
"How bizarre," said Scarecrow, frowning. "And how bizarre that he hasn't melted yet. Must be magic."
"We have to help him," said Harley, looking around. "Can we make a fire somehow?"
"Would that really be a good idea?" asked Scarecrow, tentatively. "We don't even know who he is. Maybe he's a bad person who deserves to be imprisoned in ice."
"Nobody deserves that," retorted Harley. "But I don't see anything handy to break him out with…"
"I might have an idea," sighed Scarecrow. "We need to attract the attention of the Wicked Witch, though."
Harley laughed. "No problemo!" she exclaimed. "Bud, Lou, dig!" she said to the hyenas.
They obeyed eagerly, attacking the roots of one of the trees. Sure enough, there was a shriek, and Poison Ivy appeared suddenly in a puff of green smoke.
"What the hell are you doing out of your field?" she demanded, glaring at Scarecrow.
"Stretching my legs," retorted Scarecrow.
"Looks to me like you're helping the brat," snapped Ivy. "Aren't you a gentleman? That's called benevolent sexism, you patriarchal pig! So cut it out right now!"
"You think I'm afraid of you, Ivy?" Scarecrow demanded. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Are you not?" she sneered. "I know one thing all of your kind fear. How about a little fire, Scarecrow?"
She summoned a giant fireball into her hand, launching it at Scarecrow. He leapt out of the way at the last minute, and the ball collided instead with the ice block directly behind him.
The ice cracked and then exploded, and the freed Ice Man instantly aimed a gun at Ivy, firing an ice blast at her.
Ivy managed to dodge it, fury and horror on her face. "No, not you…" she hissed.
"Begone, witch!" snarled the Ice Man. "Or your precious plants will be next!"
With a shriek of impotent rage, Ivy disappeared in a cloud of green smoke again. The Ice Man turned, pointing his gun at Scarecrow, Harley, and the hyenas now.
"Hey, cool it – we're friends!" exclaimed Harley, holding up her hands. "We just got you outta the ice block! Or at least, Johnny did with his quick thinking!"
The Ice Man lowered his gun slowly. "Then I am grateful to you," he said, in a mechanical voice through his suit. "The witch froze me long ago after I sent a frost to destroy her infernal plants. I feared I might be trapped like that forever, and would never be able to save my beloved wife, Nora."
"Yeah? What happened to her?" asked Harley.
"She has been struck down with a rare disease," replied the Ice Man. "And so I froze her to preserve her until such time as I find a cure for it."
"Maybe the wizard could get you one," said Harley. "Johnny and me are heading to the Amethyst City to see him. He's supposed to be powerful enough to get me back home to Gotham."
"And to give me the power of fear," agreed Scarecrow.
"I'm sure if he can do all that, he can find a cure for your wife's illness," continued Harley. "Why don't you come with us and ask him?"
The Ice Man nodded slowly. "I suppose it would not hurt. I have exhausted almost every other possibility anyway."
"Great! The more the merrier, right, Johnny?" said Harley.
"Yes, fine," muttered Scarecrow, who was clearly less than enthusiastic on a third wheel honing in on his time with Harley.
"I'm Harley Quinzel, and this is Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, but you can call him Johnny," said Harley, making introductions. "And these are my pet hyenas, Bud and Lou."
The hyenas eyed the Ice Man warily but didn't dare approach him. "I am Victor Freeze," replied the Ice Man.
Harley burst out laughing. "Nice gag, 'cause you're an Ice Man and all…"
She stopped laughing at his unsmiling face. "Oh…that's actually your name?"
"Yes," retorted the Ice Man, coldly. "But you are not the first person to have laughed at it."
"Sorry, I just thought…so were you born with that name, or did you pick it for a joke?" asked Harley, as they resumed walking down the Purple Brick Road.
"I was born with it. And I am not fond of jokes," said the Ice Man.
"Couldn't have guessed," sighed Harley. "Bet you don't like to join arms and skip and sing either, do you?"
"No," retorted the Ice Man. "I do not."
"Great," sighed Harley. "Gee, I hope the wizard at least has a sense of fun…"