Meanwhile, the Joker was, in fact, working on a new scheme. He had planned to take some time off and enjoy his solitude as a carefree bachelor without Harley around, and one of the things he had decided to do with his free time was to attend a retrospective screening of The Terror at the Monarch Theater, with an after feature Q&A session with the star, Basil Karlo himself. The Joker had never seen Clayface's starring horror vehicle before, and as it was the Halloween season, watching it seemed like a good way to spend an evening.
And it was, until the Q&A session. Joker was the first in line, and his question to Clayface was, "So which drama school taught you to overact that badly? Because man, I have seen some hammy, talentless performances in my time, but yours really takes the cake. If you want to humiliate yourself for money, there are ways of doing it that don't involve millions of people watching you lose your dignity up on screen. You need to get a refund from whatever drama school it was, because you're just a really awful actor, in case no one ever told you that before."
They hadn't, and Clayface didn't take it well, transforming from his relatively normal-looking human form into the giant clay monster he now was, and trying to attack Joker. Joker fled the scene, vowing revenge on Clayface both for not being able to take a little criticism, and for making him waste two hours of his life sitting through his terrible movie.
The instant Joker returned to his hideout that night, he flung open the door. "Harley!" he shouted. "I'm working late and I'll need my dinner brought to the study!"
He entered the study, seizing a pen and paper as he began to sketch out his plan for revenge. "Harley!" he shouted again. "Did you hear me? I'm hungry now!"
It was only after calling Harley several more times, growing annoyed at the lack of response, and finally standing up and preparing to beat her, that Joker remembered that she had gone to work for Scarecrow for the month.
"Useless dame," he muttered to himself. "Never around when you actually need her! I guess I'll have to feed myself," he sighed, heading into the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator to see it empty except for a can of grape soda, and one moldy, shriveled avocado. "Of course the ungrateful dame didn't leave the fridge stocked – she's nothing if not completely selfish, never thinking of me and not caring if I starve," he sighed. "And I don't even know why Harley buys these things – she knows I don't eat plants unless it's to annoy the Weed Lady," he muttered, tossing the avocado into the trash. "Maybe she's obliged to have at least one avocado in her possession at all times because she's a millennial or something. Thank God I'm old, that's all I have to say."
He sighed again. "Probably for the best there's nothing to eat – I don't have time for mundane things like cooking," he said, grabbing the phone. "I'm a genius at work, and as such, I need my food delivered by people who aren't geniuses, and have nothing better to do with their time."
He dialed a number. "Pauli, I need a hoagie over here now!" he snapped. "And you better not be out of 'em!"
"No, sir, I have plenty - I'll be over right away," said Pauli.
"Better bring a few more for the weeks ahead too," said Joker. "I don't have time to make my own sandwiches, and Harley's away."
"Yeah, I saw her with Scarecrow when he was auditioning for new henchmen the other day…" began Pauli.
"Yeah, I don't care," interrupted Joker. "Just get over here with the sandwiches now."
Pauli hurried over about twenty minutes later, which was still too late for Joker. "Finally!" he exclaimed, throwing open the door when Pauli arrived and grabbing the bag. "You want me to starve to death or what?"
"No, sir," said Pauli, nervously. "I got 'em over here as quick as I could, but traffic was a bear…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't need excuses," said Joker. "Come on in while I find some cash to pay you with."
"That's not necessary, Mr. Joker, sir, it's on the house…" began Pauli, wanting to get out of there more than he wanted money.
"Don't be silly – you can't afford to give away free food in these inflationary times," said Joker, grabbing his collar and dragging him inside. "Now just sit down while I find some money," he ordered, pointing at the sofa.
Pauli obeyed, shaking in fear. "So you saw Harley, huh?" asked Joker casually, as he began searching between the sofa cushions for money. "How did she look?"
"Good," said Pauli, hastily. "I mean, she always looks good, but, y'know…happy."
"How happy?" asked Joker.
"Just…happy," stammered Pauli.
"Happier than you've seen her with me, or less happy than that?" asked Joker.
"Uh…I dunno," said Pauli. "Just…happy," he repeated. "She was…smiling and…laughing and…joshing around with Scarecrow."
"Joshing around how?" asked Joker.
"Just…being kinda playful," stammered Pauli. "Like she usually is. With you and with…everyone."
"Everyone?" repeated Joker. "What kinda girl do you think she is?"
"I don't think…anything," stammered Pauli. "Except that I gotta get back to the deli…" he began, standing up.
"Sit down!" snapped Joker. "You think you can just cut and run after accusing my gal of flirting with another man?!"
"Look, Mr. Joker, sir, it's none of my business what kinda arrangement you and your girlfriend have," stammered Pauli. "That's between the two of you, and whoever else you wanna include in it. I don't judge, and actually I think it's really broad-minded of you…"
"And what kinda arrangement do you think my girlfriend and I have that's really broad-minded of me?" interrupted Joker.
"Well…sharing her with Scarecrow," stammered Pauli.
"Sharing her with Scarecrow?" repeated Joker, his smile twisting in rage. "You think I would share my dame with that pathetic old nerd?! Why would I do that?! Because I pitied him?! Out of the kindness of my heart?! Because I'm a nice guy?! Is that what you think?!"
"I…dunno," stammered Pauli. "But Scarecrow said…"
"What did Scarecrow say?!" roared Joker, seizing him by the collar again.
"I asked him if he and Harley were sleeping together, and he said…I could think that, but he couldn't possibly comment," stammered Pauli. "Which is a yes, right?"
"He said WHAT?!" shouted Joker.
"Mr. Joker, please, don't shoot the messenger…" began Pauli, but it was too late. Joker suddenly sprayed a jet of acid from his lapel flower into Pauli's face, and then dropped his body to the ground.
"I didn't shoot the messenger – I sprayed acid in his face," he muttered, biting into his hoagie as he headed back to the refrigerator and helped himself to the remaining can of grape soda. "And now I gotta get revenge on both Clayface and Scarecrow," he sighed, popping open the can and taking a long sip, and then making a face. "Ugh, it's gone flat," he muttered, throwing it into the trash can. "Better pick up some more of those while I'm out getting stuff for revenge. I swear, my work is never done. And you know, it really serves me right for being uncharacteristically sociable and charitable. I go to a pal's movie and he attacks me over some constructive criticism, and I let my girlfriend go to work for another guy, and he starts spreading rumors that she's sleeping with him. This is what happens when you're nice to people – they take advantage of your generosity and kick you in the teeth. Well, I've learned my lesson – from now on, I'll never help anyone ever again. No more Mr. Nice Clown."