I do not own The Joker, or any of the characters he happens to
mention. They are all copyright of DC comics. I do, however, own the guard
and the interviewer. :)
An Interview with The Joker
I walked silently through the hallways of Arkham Asylum. The storm outside made gruesome shadows and visions flash upon the walls around me. I saw that the guard leading me to my destination was quite simply shaking with fear. I don't think I would have enjoyed working here either. The cell that held the man I was to interview was just a few feet away now. The guard was ahead of me, and had started to open the cell to let me in. I stopped and waited until it was fully opened, and then slowly made my way inside. I heard the cell door close quickly behind me, and the sound of the guard briskly jogging back to the safety of his office was echoing through the halls. I looked forward and saw the back of one of the more insane of Gotham's well-known criminals as he look out of the cell's small window, into the midst of the storm outside. He swivelled round to look at me. Look at me with his white, grim, and yet smiling face. I was face to face with The Joker.
"Well, pilgrim, I never thought you'd actually turn up. All the wind and the rain outside this old nuthouse must have terrified you. Ha, rather humourous really. What? Oh, you didn't say anything. Good. What is it you're here for again? Oh yes, an interview; an interview with Gotham's resident clown of a different nature. I'm sitting here looking like batman made me. White-faced, green-haired and red-lipped. That's all you really need to know about me isn't? Would you like to hear an impression of John Wayne? Or maybe Humphrey Bogart. I also do a mean Sidney Poitier impression, the best in the world, outside of Sid himself. But, for now, I think I might just talk like The Joker. And be warned, The Joker's Wild."
From here on in, I knew I wasn't going to have much say in how events went. The Joker seemed happy enough to talk, but only if he talked in his own time. I was happy to let him.
"So, an interview with moi, The Joker. Shall we talk? Let's talk. Good. Let us call this - Joker notes. Let us call this the first serial installment. Let us call it a brief history of my parentage. Let us call it a game. Let us call it entertainment and a clue. My, we're calling it a lot of things, aren't we? Oh well, I suppose it's better to have lots of names, rather than none at all, wouldn't you agree? Here we go then. I was born in a small vat of chemicals. My mother and father was Batman. He was strict. I'd like to talk about him for a bit. I'll keep it short and sour though: I hope to kill the son of a bitch. My little brother is Robin. Such an adorable ball of hate he really is. Batman always loved him more than me! I felt so. so. lonely and forgotten. The first child thrown away like an old newspaper. Why, Bats, just tell me why! Ahem, excuse me. I went off on a tangent then didn't I? Yes, thought so. Should make for quite interesting reading, though. I'd sure love to read about the emotional break down of a 'super' villain. Yes, there is nothing more fun and enjoyable than watching someone be reduced to a pool of tears and watching them roll around in their own self-pity! Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha. Ha- ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."
At this point there seemed to be a mix of madness and sadness in The Joker's eyes as he walked around the room, his head thrust back in maniacal laughter. Suddenly his laughter slowed as he started to cough. There was a long pause.
"Excuse me. Almost choked. I think I'll go find a bed and have a lie down now. Some time to relax. Gain some composure. Analyse my life. Please be sure to return tomorrow. I enjoyed your company."
With that, he turned away and made his way to the bed that was situated in the corner of the cell. I got up, turned towards the cell door, called for the guard, and waited for the cell door to be opened. I needed to prepare for the next night.
An Interview with The Joker
I walked silently through the hallways of Arkham Asylum. The storm outside made gruesome shadows and visions flash upon the walls around me. I saw that the guard leading me to my destination was quite simply shaking with fear. I don't think I would have enjoyed working here either. The cell that held the man I was to interview was just a few feet away now. The guard was ahead of me, and had started to open the cell to let me in. I stopped and waited until it was fully opened, and then slowly made my way inside. I heard the cell door close quickly behind me, and the sound of the guard briskly jogging back to the safety of his office was echoing through the halls. I looked forward and saw the back of one of the more insane of Gotham's well-known criminals as he look out of the cell's small window, into the midst of the storm outside. He swivelled round to look at me. Look at me with his white, grim, and yet smiling face. I was face to face with The Joker.
"Well, pilgrim, I never thought you'd actually turn up. All the wind and the rain outside this old nuthouse must have terrified you. Ha, rather humourous really. What? Oh, you didn't say anything. Good. What is it you're here for again? Oh yes, an interview; an interview with Gotham's resident clown of a different nature. I'm sitting here looking like batman made me. White-faced, green-haired and red-lipped. That's all you really need to know about me isn't? Would you like to hear an impression of John Wayne? Or maybe Humphrey Bogart. I also do a mean Sidney Poitier impression, the best in the world, outside of Sid himself. But, for now, I think I might just talk like The Joker. And be warned, The Joker's Wild."
From here on in, I knew I wasn't going to have much say in how events went. The Joker seemed happy enough to talk, but only if he talked in his own time. I was happy to let him.
"So, an interview with moi, The Joker. Shall we talk? Let's talk. Good. Let us call this - Joker notes. Let us call this the first serial installment. Let us call it a brief history of my parentage. Let us call it a game. Let us call it entertainment and a clue. My, we're calling it a lot of things, aren't we? Oh well, I suppose it's better to have lots of names, rather than none at all, wouldn't you agree? Here we go then. I was born in a small vat of chemicals. My mother and father was Batman. He was strict. I'd like to talk about him for a bit. I'll keep it short and sour though: I hope to kill the son of a bitch. My little brother is Robin. Such an adorable ball of hate he really is. Batman always loved him more than me! I felt so. so. lonely and forgotten. The first child thrown away like an old newspaper. Why, Bats, just tell me why! Ahem, excuse me. I went off on a tangent then didn't I? Yes, thought so. Should make for quite interesting reading, though. I'd sure love to read about the emotional break down of a 'super' villain. Yes, there is nothing more fun and enjoyable than watching someone be reduced to a pool of tears and watching them roll around in their own self-pity! Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha. Ha- ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."
At this point there seemed to be a mix of madness and sadness in The Joker's eyes as he walked around the room, his head thrust back in maniacal laughter. Suddenly his laughter slowed as he started to cough. There was a long pause.
"Excuse me. Almost choked. I think I'll go find a bed and have a lie down now. Some time to relax. Gain some composure. Analyse my life. Please be sure to return tomorrow. I enjoyed your company."
With that, he turned away and made his way to the bed that was situated in the corner of the cell. I got up, turned towards the cell door, called for the guard, and waited for the cell door to be opened. I needed to prepare for the next night.