(Okay! Here it is! I told you I wouldn't make you wait as long as last time! Didn't I?
[Okay, song suggestions: Desert Rose by Sting and Telephone by Lady Gaga and Beyonce. And if any offense is taken from the content in this chapter then I ask for your forgiveness. This is made purely for laughs and does not in any way mean to be mean.]

Chapter Twelve
House Calls

RIIIIIIIIIING!

RIIIIIIIIING!

RIIIIIIIING!

"Hello, this is Amber Johnson. Who is this?"

*click*

"Um… Hello?"

*dial tone*

Amber closed her cell phone and shrugged.

"Must have been the wrong number."

She snuggled down in the soft blanket and sofa cushions in her apartment, returning her attention to the TV.

It was her day off and Amber had spent the entire day relaxing at home. She finally finished a book that had been waiting for her for nearly five months and her 1990's music playlist had played as she attacked the little village of dust bunnies that had popped up around the apartment. Now it was seven o'clock at night and she was enjoying a suspenseful movie and popcorn.

RRIIIIIIING!

RRRIIIIIIIING!

RRIIIIIIIIIING!

"Hello?"

*insert creepy, heavy breathing on the other line*

"Uh… h, hello?"

*click*

Amber nervously glanced up at the TV screen. Suddenly the idea of watching a suspenseful movie wasn't so appealing.

She clicked off the TV and her gaze landed on her bookshelf. A book! Another book would be a good way to kill some hours!

Amber launched herself off the couch and skidded to a stop in front of the bookshelf she had dubbed her Mini Library. It stood against the living room wall next to the window. The shelf was five foot ten and consisted of five shelvings.

She tilted her head as she scanned the titles along the spines. The Complete Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes, Inkheart, The Princess Bride, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe, The Bride Collector, Piercing the Darkness, This Present Darkness, The Phantom of the Opera, Dracula, The Hunger Games, The Looking Glass Wars series; the list went on and on. Amber was an irreconcilable bookworm in her spare time. She collected books like she collected music on iTunes.

An irritable huff escaped from her as she continued scanning the book titles for a story she hadn't read yet.

"Come on! Call to me already!" Amber snapped at the inanimate objects. Yes. Yes; Amber was telling her books to speak to her. But that did not mean she was crazy. Nope. Not one bit.

Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!

Amber snatched up the second volume of The Looking Glass Wars series; Seeing Redd. "Took you long enough," she muttered, hugging it to her chest.

She took a running leap and flung herself full length onto the couch. Something jabbed itself uncomfortably against her butt and Amber hastily removed the accursed object from under her. It was the radio remote. Okay, so it wasn't so accursed after all.

Amber settled into a comfortable position and pointed the remote at the radio, clicking the play button. Desert Rose sung by Sting began to softly stream through the speakers.

"I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
I dream of fire
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire."

Amber let the soothing music work its magic on her tense muscles and she let out a sigh of relief. Opening up the book to the first page, Amber started to read…. only to be interrupted.

RIIIIIIIIIIIING!

RIIIIIIIIIIING!

"Ugh!" Amber closed the book and stretched out an arm to pick up the phone from the coffee table set in front of the couch.

"Hello?" Amber answered, impatiently. Rule Number One in Guide to Coercing with Bookworms; Never interrupt them before they've even made it past the first chapter of a book.

"Hello, I'd like to place an order for two meat lover pizzas and-."

"Whoa, whoa! Hold on, dude," Amber chuckled. "You've got the wrong number. This is a home phone number, not a pizza delivery place. Okay?"

There was silence on the other end and then an, "Oh."

"Yeah."

Amber was about to remove the phone from her ear and hang up when the guy spoke up again.

"So, uh, … do you know the number to a pizza place?"

Amber fired off the digits and once again got ready to hang up.

"Hey," the guy started.

Amber rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue. "Hm?"

"You sound like you're cute."

Amber awkwardly cleared her throat. "Um, thank you."

"What are you wearing?"

Amber's eyes went as big as the moon. "W, w, what?" she stuttered.

"What are you wearing? Are you in your pajamas? Lingerie? … Nude?"

Amber's eyes could not get any bigger. There simply wouldn't have been any more room on her face. Her cheeks were bright red in shock and embarrassment.

"Um! This conversation is over!"

"Hey wait-!"

"No, creeper!"

"How the heck did you know it was me?"

Amber's jaw dropped to the floor. The Creeper! The Creeper just called her? Amber could barely keep the phone in her hands as she fumbled to press the button to disconnect the call. The phone clattered to the wooden floor and Amber stared at it like it had transformed into a rattle snake.

She sat with her legs drawn in to her chest and her arms encircling them, staring at the phone. She very nearly jumped out of her skin when it rang once more.

Amber slowly reached for the phone and pressed the button. "H, hello?"

"So listen, I was wondering if you and I could hook up-."

Oh geez, it was The Creeper again!

"DON'T CALL THIS NUMBER AGAIN!"

*click*

Amber slammed the phone back onto the coffee table and threw the blanket over her head as if it would protect her. When the phone didn't ring within the next ten seconds, she cautiously peeked out from beneath the blanket, her nose being the only thing visible. She slightly resembled a hedgehog.

The phone remained quiet. Amber sighed in relief and lay down on her back. Seeing Redd was laying front cover first on the floor, looking like a mistreated and forgotten friend. Picking it up, Amber cast one last glance at the phone and opened the book to the first page.

The first chapter was quickly read and so was the second. She was well on her way into the fourth chapter when the phone rang again.

Amber swiped it up in one fluid motion and pressed it to her ear. "Listen you yellow-skinned wacky man, I have no intention of hooking up with you so go get measured for a new straitjacket!"

"Um… I was calling to ask if you'd like to participate in a survey…," a timid voice replied.

Amber's anger vanished once she realized it had been misfired. "Oh… um. Geez, I'm sorry; I-!"

"I'll take you off the callers list, ma'am." *click*

Well, that was one way to get taken off a telemarketers call list.

Amber gently put the phone down and gritted her teeth with regret. "Sorry," she whispered at it, as if the person could still hear her.

It didn't take very long for Amber to resume her reading. She got through two more chapters when the phone rang.

"Stop calling me, people!" Amber shouted at the device before picking it back up.

"Hello?"

"Is Ambuh der?" asked a ghetto voice.

"Uh… this is she."

"Oh heeeey, Ambuuuuh," the voice greeted, happily. Amber was having a hard time discerning if it was a man or a woman.

"H, hi," Amber replied, trying to sound cheerful while at the same time trying to place a face with the voice. They sounded as if he or she knew her.

"Ambuh do you know who dis is?" he or she asked after hearing the confusion in Amber's voice.

"Uh, I have to say sorry, but no."

"Aw, guurl! This is yo mother!"

Amber's eyebrows lifted as high as they could go. "My mother?" she repeated, stifling a chuckle.

"Yeah, gul."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong number and Amber, ma'am." She thought she heard some muffled snickers in the background.

"Why you say that?"

"Uuuh; because my mother's not black," Amber thought. Of course she wasn't going to say that to the lady. That would have just been rude.

"Well, are you calling for an Amber Johnson?"

"That ought to straighten things out," Amber thought to herself.

"Yeah, yeah; Ambuh Johnson."

"Ooookaaaay; maybe not."

"Ma'am, I'm pretty sure you have the wrong number," Amber said as politely as possible. The situation was kinda beginning to get uncomfortable.

"Dis iz the right numbah. I know it iz. Ambuh, this iz yo mother."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're not."

"Ambuuuuh!"

Amber quickly disconnected the call. She felt bad. Really she did. But that woman was obviously confused and was also most likely mentally unwell if she couldn't recognize her own daughter's voice.

She brushed it aside and settled onto the couch, book reopened to the last place she had stopped.

RIIIIIIING!

"Don't answer it," she told herself.

RIIIIIING!

"Don't answer it."

RIIIIING!

"I'm not here."

RIIIIIIIIIIING!

"There is no such thing as phones…."

!

"Hello?"

"… Is Ambuh der?"

"No she's not!"

*click*

!

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

"Away from me, foul and evil thing!"

!

Okay. That was it. This was war.

Amber calmly got up from the sofa and grabbed the phone. She didn't answer it; she let it continue to ring. She walked to her radio and adjusted the volume to near full blast and picked just the song she wanted to play. Amber fast forwarded to the chorus and paused the song. The phone was still ringing.

"You asked for it," Amber muttered in a dark tone.

She pressed the phone button to answer the phone and placed the talk piece flush against the radio speaker just as she hit play. The music blared out, rattling the shelf the radio sat on.

"STOP CALLIN'
STOP CALLIN'
I DON'T WANNA THINK ANYMORE;
I LEFT MY HEAD AND MY HEART ON THE DANCE FLOOR!
STOP CALLIN'
STOP CALLIN'
I DON'T WANNA TALK ANYMORE;
I LEFT MY HEAD AND MY HEART ON THE DANCE FLOOR!
EH, EH, EH, EH, EH, EH, EH, EH, EH, EH, EH
STOP TELEPHONIN' ME, EH, EH, EH, EH!"

Amber pressed the stop button on the radio at the same time she hung up on the caller. Her own ears were throbbing and she was pretty sure that if anyone had tried to speak to her at that moment she wouldn't have heard a thing.

She jimmied her pinkie finger into her left ear and grunted. "So much for a restful night."

…

Over in Arkham, the Joker, Nigma, Crane, and Harvey were gathered at a round table that had a cord phone in the employees' break room. The room was empty of staff and the Joker had broken himself and the other boys out of their cells for some In-House Fun as he called it.

And the entertainment for the night? Prank calling Nurse Amber Johnson.

The Joker was wiggling his pinkie in his ear and wincing.

"Gah! Didn't she bust her own ear drums?" he whined.

Crane, Nigma, and Harvey were too busy laughing to answer the Joker. They'd heard the music blare out from the ear piece just as clearly as if they had a radio in the room with them.

"I think she's mad now," Nigma snickered.

Crane tried to keep his composure but he too couldn't help but let a few chuckles out. "Yes, ahem," he cleared his throat. "Yes, I do believe we've given her a good reason to develop telephobia."

"Did you just make that up?" Harvey asked.

"No. It's an actual fear."

"I don't believe you."

"But it's true!"

"I think you're making it up! It's too simple of a word!"

"But it's real!" Crane said, adamantly.

"I think you just made it up! Joker, don't you think Crane's making it up?"

"What?" the Joker yelled, tugging at his deafened ears.

Harvey leaned forward and raised his voice. "Tell Crane he's making up phony terms for fears!"

"I am not!"

"Sssh! All of you!" the Riddler hissed. "You're going to wake up the guards!"

"Whaaaat?" the Joker shouted, still suffering from the after effects of loud music.

Harvey raised his voice a notch louder as he spoke to the Joker. "He said, 'that we're gonna wake the guards'!"

"Quiet!"

"Who's gonna wake what?"

Nigma let his head fall onto the table. Imbeciles; he was surrounded by imbeciles. He peeked out at Crane. As if sensing his thoughts, the former psychiatrist cocked an eyebrow at the Prince of Puzzles.

Well, except for Crane.

"Would you stop shouting?" Nigma shushed.

"But he can't hear me," Harvey stated, plainly.

"Then why not write it down on paper?" Crane offered with sarcasm dripping from his words.

Harvey got up and knocked over his chair. "SSSSHH!" Crane and Nigma hissed.

The Joker looked around as if something small had been tossed at him and he'd lost sight of it. "Is there a snake in here?" he asked.

Nigma face palmed his forehead and moaned.

Harvey headed for the supplies cabinets and noisily opened the doors, banging them against the other doors.

"Harvey, would you please-?"

"What?"

"Be more quiet?"

"What?"

"SIT DOWN!" Nigma shouted.

Harvey instantly sat on the floor.

"Is somebody in there?"

All four men tensed up. The door opened and Lyle Bolton walked inside, his ever present glare greeting them.

"I knew I heard somebody in here."

Nigma became the centerpiece of the Joker, Crane, and Harvey's glares. He gave an exasperated "What?" motion with his hands and rolled his eyes. It was always the last person to speak who got in trouble.

"Alright you heathens, back to your cells!" Bolton ordered.

"Whaaaaat?" the Joker squawked.

…

The next day when Amber came walking down the High Security hall, she was greeted by the Joker.

"Heeeeey! It's my favorite little pixie!"

"Heeeeey! It's everyone's most hated clown!" Amber greeted back with sarcasm to match his.

The Joker pressed his face against the glass and grinned at her. "I only have one question, Nurse Johnson."

"What is it?"

"Is Ambuh der?" the Joker cackled.

Amber's face was a spectacle to behold. Her eyes flew open wide and her mouth became unhinged. Then her face turned red.

"JOKER, IT WAS YOU THE WHOLE TIME?"

"I gotta bit of a talent at disguising my voice," the Joker boasted, polishing his fingernails against his shirt.

"And the Creeper? Was that you too? Man, that was some sick pick-up lines! And I don't mean that in the good sense!"

"Wait. What-huh? The Creeper? That act stealing plagiarist!"

"I'll take it that's a 'no'."

"First he steals my act, then tries to take Harley, and now my nurse? Just wait till I get out of here!"

Amber cocked her head to the side as she watched the Joker begin to throw a temper tantrum.

"Hmm," she thought. It would seem she'd already gotten her revenge on the clown. And if the Joker did make it out of Arkham… she wouldn't exactly be upset if The Creeper disappeared.

"Jack Ryder, you suck!"

(And just to let you know, this phone call thing actually happened. The whole 'Is Ambuh Der' thing was an actual prank someone pulled on me and I just had to use it. I hope you found it funny just as much as the ones who pulled it on me did. Please leave a review!)