This Parody of Life

My Pain, Your Thrill

"I always wanted a dog." He said kneeling on the pavement as he stroked the dog's mangy fur. The animal's whines grew quieter as he ran both his hands over the head and neck of the animal.

He smiled at the animal and scratched its head, behind its ears and pinched the animals cheeks, making it look as if it were smiling. Harley's stomach was in knots and she could barely watch him with the animal.

"That's a good boy." He whispered as he raised the dogs' front leg, eliciting a small yelp. He released the limb and went back to his careful petting, talking to the dog in a small, childlike voice.

"My father forbade it though. He didn't think I was responsible enough to care for an animal." He said to Harley as he continued scratching the animal behind its ears.

She felt his eyes on her and turned to meet his fixed gaze. Her blue eyes filled with tears as his dark ones regarded her.

"I think people who do this," he said gesturing to the animals' ruined body "are the truly irresponsible ones." He petted the dog with his right hand as he used his left to retrieve his gun.

"I think he'd be proud to see just how responsible I am." He said. Harley squeezed her eyes shut and jumped as he pulled the trigger.

Years later she watched the same man, albeit now dressed as a clown, playing with a pair of dogs he'd "rescued" from the Chechen drug lord. He rocked back where he sat as he wrestled one of the dogs to the floor and laughed like a little boy.

This time Harley smiled as she watched the man with the large rottweilers. They had quickly parted allegiance with their former master and had taken to the Joker. He looked up at her and gestured for her to join him. She did so, hesitantly as she squatted on the floor and the Joker whipped her about, pressing her back to his chest as he moved her hand to the neck of one of the animals.

At first she was frightened, but relaxed slightly as she felt the rumbling of low laughter from the man behind her.

"They can smell fear, like me." He growled in her ear before giving the lobe a quick, playful bite. A laugh came from within and then Harley found herself playing with the dogs with her clown.

A check of his watch ended their 'Dog Party' and he hauled Harley up to her feet by her right elbow.

"Okay, gorgeous. It's time to leave the kids with the sitter and go to work." He said chuckling.

There was no sitter.

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Harley reapplied her black lipstick, using a dirty broken window for a mirror. She'd fixed her pigtails and washed off her whiteface and had only applied black mascara and eyeliner to go with her lips. She figured it would be enough, Joker was the star of the show and she was merely his assistant.

Their costumed roles, however, had been reversed as she soon found out as she walked into the small anteroom to find him pulling a cheap red wig over his green hair. She couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"What?" He snapped angrily as he turned to glare at her. She covered her mouth with her hand and snorted once again before steeling herself and stepping toward him.

"I always loved a man in uniform." She said gesturing at his tall body, clad in a nurses' uniform. Despite himself he smiled and she playfully bit her lower lip.

"So, uh, tell me. Is that a detonator in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" She asked in a seductive voice as she finished closing the distance. She slipped her hands up his chest to the sides of his face and rose to the tips of her toes as she kissed him. She pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Puddin'." She said in a low voice.

His eyes changed and his lips twisted as he snarled at her and threw her to the ground. He kicked her in the stomach and she doubled over with a gasping cry as he stepped over her.

She rolled onto her back, clutching her stomach and turned her head to look at him. He had stopped a few feet from her and was clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Funny you should mention that." He said in a low voice thick with anger. She closed her eyes and blinked tears from her eyes.

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Harley leaned her back against the table and thrust the small object out toward him.

"Happy Birthday, Puddin'." She said cheerfully. He looked at the cupcake with a lit candle in it and then at her.

"So it is." He replied and carefully took the pastry from her and set it on the table before him. He briefly glanced at Harley before blowing out the candle. She giggled and squirmed her way between him and the table to sit on his lap.

"So, what did you wish for?" She asked, slipping her arms around his neck. She drew close to him and then gasped as he shoved her from his lap to the floor. She looked up at him, dejected, as he stood and crossed the room to the duffle full of equipment.

"Jack?" She said, sounding a little whineier than she had intended too. He shook his head as he focused on the contents of the bag.

"We've been over this, Harley." He said in a low voice. A wave of disappointment washed over her as he rejected her once again. She had her place, and it wasn't with him.

She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees as she watched him. That sinking feeling hit her once again and she drew a breath.

"I don't think we should do this tonight." She blurted. He stopped what he was doing and looked at her sharply.

"Why?" He asked, focusing his dark eyes on hers.

"I have a bad feeling about this job." She said, feeling nervous about her own intuition and his reaction to it. "I don't think we should go." He shook his head and went back to what he was doing.

"I don't pay you to think." He snapped at her. She slapped her thigh in frustration and crossed the room to stand over him.

"Damn it, Jack! You know I wouldn't say anything if I didn't think there was something to it." She cried.

"I think you just want to stay here and try to screw me and you're pissed off that I'm not into you." He said dismissively. She winced and sighed.

"This has nothing to do with how I feel about you." She said. He glanced up at her and then gradually stood, taking her elbow in his hand and squeezing it gently.

"What, then?" He asked, exasperated. "What has your 'women's intuition' tingling or whatever it does?" She met his gaze.

"I don't trust Tony. I think he's up to something and he's setting us up." She said seriously. He just laughed in response.

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The back doors of the van were opened and they were unceremoniously dumped onto the ground, along with their three accomplices. All of them still wore their masks. Harley looked at Jack and saw he was watching two men on the other side of the room. The two of them turned to the gang and headed their way.

Harley inched closer to Jack, but he nudged her back and looked at her. Even through his mask he easily conveyed his orders to her. She followed him to the wall that three men with guns kindly directed them too and sat down against it.

The stocky man with greasy hair and a thick Italian accent addressed them.

"Which of you is Jack?" He said surveying the lot.

Harley glanced at Jack through the corner of her eye as he silent stared forward. She then looked back up at the men standing before them. The Italian man pointed at her.

Instantly she was jerked to her feet and thrown to the ground before the Italian grease ball. The man beside him kicked her hard in the stomach and she let out an involuntary cry as all the air was knocked from her body.

"What the?" A voice said as Harley watched stars dance before her eyes. She felt a body land hard on top of her as she fought for breath. She heard the sounds of struggle and when she was finally able, saw two men holding Jack by his arms and shoulders as he wrestled against them. One of them was still wearing his clown mask. Tony. She heard the sound of metal as his knife clattered to the ground.

"Jack." She gasped in a barely audible voice. She heard the Italian man laughing and felt the clown mask tug as it was torn from her face. Above her she saw the greasy Italian.

"So, what is this?" He laughed, a little too amused. "Jack and Jill?" He laughed at his own bad joke and surveyed the others who then forced laughs of their own. He looked between Jack and Harley and then motioned to his men to remove Jack's mask.

He approached Jack and stooped over to pick up the fallen blade.

"So, Jack. It seems that you have something of mine." The man said with mirth. Jack nodded.

"Likewise." He said glancing at Harley as someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet. She cried out and Jack struggled against the two men holding him again.

"I just want what is mine, Jack. You seem like a reasonable man, certainly not stupid." The other man continued. "You don't even have to get it for me. I have guys for that. Just tell me where the money is."

"I don't have it." Jack said, staring holes through the Boss. The man snorted and waved his hand at the man holding Harley. The grip tightened in her hair and she felt the cold metal of a gun hitting her temple. She winced in pain and bit her lip hard enough that it began to bleed. The muzzle of the gun was then shoved against the tender spot it had created.

"You still not have it?" The Boss asked, irritation lurking in his voice as he addressed Jack. Jack merely nodded and then smiled and chuckled as he glanced at Harley. It was the first time she saw the Joker.

"Of course I don't." The voice of the Joker chided. "It's a little too much to be carrying around in a neighborhood like this. Lots of bad characters running around." He licked his lips and relaxed into his stance.

"You some kind of Joker, huh? Funny man? Well, I'll show you funny." He said and turned toward Harley and motioned for the man holding her to bring her forth.

The gun shoved itself against the back of her head as she was marched toward Jack who was shoved to his knees by order of the Boss. The whole event seemed surreal in her mind as she was halted just before Jack and the Boss thrust Jack's knife into her hand.

"Oh, you'll tell me what I want to know, or I'll have your little girlfriend here carve you like a 'Jack'-O-Lantern." The Boss snarled cruelly as the man waggled his eyebrows at Harley and licked his lips at her suggestively.

Harley looked at the Boss in shock and a blow to the back of her head and a yank of her hair returned her gaze to Jack's calm expression.

"Go ahead, Jill. Put that knife in your boyfriend's mouth." Hot tears rolled down Harley's face as she looked at Jack. He smiled at her, that creature lurking in his eyes, waiting to be released. He opened his mouth and leaned toward her.

Harley closed her eyes as a hand guided her hand forward. Suddenly someone else was holding her from behind, His hand wound through her hair, pulling it hard while his foul breath blew across her neck.

The hand seized hers hard and she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt her hand moving and sawing through the skin and muscle of Jack's face. She screamed.

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In a dreamlike state, Harley found herself standing before Jack as she carefully sutured his skin together. It was like sewing, only terrible. She'd cut an uneven path through this man's face and now she was putting it back together.

He stared at her as she worked and she wished he would close his eyes. His penetrating gaze and dark circles around his eyes made the bleeding red gashes even worse to look at.

She sobbed as she worked and dabbed his face with gauze to clean the skin as she moved along. The worst part had been when she'd had to cauterize his wounds using a lighter and a bobby pin.

He couldn't talk, just stare. And he did through the whole process. How long it had taken she could not remember. She did know that it was the hardest thing she had ever done, just as cutting him had been the worst.

When it was over, she had slumped to the floor beside him where he lay on the couch. She leaned against the seat and lay her head on the cushion beside him and wept. His hand was gentle as it stroked her head while Jack quietly passed away.

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She spent the next four days taking care of the thing that had hidden behind Jack's eyes for as long as she had known him. He didn't have a name yet, but he wouldn't acknowledge her when she called him Jack.

He was the Clown that Jack had told her about, brought to the surface by the smile fixed on his face. He was livelier, almost animated in a way Jack hadn't been. His eyes seemed darker yet shone bright with an inner madness.

On the last day he told her he was 'The Joker.' Then he'd told her to leave. Not his sight, nor the apartment, but 'The Narrows.' He was convincing.

Two days later at her friend Pamela's place, Harley saw the GCN coverage of the fire which consumed her old apartment building.

A hand grasped her arm and roughly hoisted her up to her feet. She looked warily up into the Joker's face, now painted over the terrible scars she had given him. He shook her arm loose and pulled a cell phone from his shirt pocket.

"It's time to go, Harley." He said; his voice almost conversational as he dialed a number.