Morning came slowly enough. The entire night I contemplated what I should do, also if I even had a choice. Just because he said I did, didn't necessarily mean so. Although crime was what I did and what I was exceptionally good at, I had some kind of…guilt…coming to me. I didn't know why. It never happened before. Why should I feel bad about being bad? That's all I've ever been. I knew my condition might have been affecting my mind. Reliving your gruesome childhood isn't really good for the noggin. I made my decision then. Being an ally of the Joker could prove beneficial. The power and fear that comes with it is something far greater than what came of it with Doozie and his group of misfits.
When Joker came in, much later than he said, he was dressed in the purple tuxedo he was known for. Slicked back green hair, ruby red lips, and those evil yellow eyes.
"Whattaya say, Vinny?" he asked with a smile, standing with his white gloved hands behind his back. "Brothers?" One last time I thought of the power, fear, and criminal glory that would come with a positive answer, but the possible shame that could come with the negative.
"Brothers," I said, sealing my fate. The Joker smiled a wide, yellow-toothed smiled. His green, curved brows came together in a most frightening way.
"Let's go home, then. Harley has been cleaning and cooking all day. You can't imagine how excited she'll be when she sees you come through the door." He walked over to me and removed the straps that left a deep, irritated impression in my skin. I rose slowly, in much pain, and tried to keep my balance. The Joker helped me up and I staggered all the way out of the condemned warehouse once and for all.
Outside was a black 1930's limousine. The door was opened for me by one of the thugs, who I suppose was also driving. I slid in to the car that was badly damaged on the inside. The Joker then crawled in, as well.
"Where is your home, anyway?" I asked.
"South of Gotham. It's a very cozy home, filled with memories and love," he smiled. Any place this dude lived, I couldn't imagine love. But to him, mutilating the innocent with an equally loony girl was love. If that's so, the place must be oozing with the stuff.
The car ride was painful and took much too long. My muscles were very stiff and very sore. All I wanted to do was lay in a soft bed with cold covers. I didn't think there would be such a thing in my future and I was corrected. Joker's home was a not a sweet little home for a couple. It was a house shortly outside of Gotham, with broken windows, a grassless front yard, and a desolate surrounding. It was the only home left. Next to it was a pile of junk and down the street a little further was the remains of a demolished home. It was probably once a nice little, quiet neighborhood. But now it was old, run-down, and ugly.
Joker pulled keys from the pocket of his purple slacks and when he slid the key into the lock, it fell off the door.
"They don't make homes like they used to, Vinny. There's always something to be replaced," he said.
He walked in as I staggered through the door. The inside was musty and worn down, much like the outside.
"Honey! I'm home!" he said, playing the role of the typical husband.
"Dinnah is watitin'!" Harley smiled. She was also in the suit she was known for, but she had a fifties house-wife dress worn over it. It was navy blue with white polka-dots. She sat on the small, wooden kitchen table, an overcooked whole chicken and a couple dishes of sides. I sat at the table while my heart pounded.
"I'm so glad ya home, honey," she said to the Joker. She went over to him and kissed him repeatedly with a loud 'mwah' sound after each kiss.
"Now, Harley. Let's be modest around our new house guest," he said.
"Glad to see ya came to ya senses, Vinny. Thought ya nevah would," Harley said. She sat down at the table as Joker started carving the chicken.
"Thank you," is all I could think to say.
I ate quickly and had seconds. Through this entire time it never dawned on me I hadn't eaten in two days. I began any piece of food I could get my hands on.
"Harley sure is the homemaker, isn't she?" Joker said.
"It's so good," I said, still stuffing my face.
Harley took a few bites of her chicken and then pushed her plate away.
"Ahem! I'm full," she said in a girlish voice. "Who wants desert?" she asked.
"That sounds lovely, Snickerdoodle," Joker said. She went to the fridge and pulled a bowl of chocolate pudding out.
"I made puddin'," she said, "for my puddin'."
"What a sweetie," he said. She giggled and put a few scoops in a bowl for him. I finally felt full and passed on the pudding.
"Ah ya sure?" Harley asked. "Theh's plenty."
"No, thank you. I think I'd like to go to bed," I said.
"I'll show ya to ya room," Harley said. She helped me to my room, which was a small room with a simple rod iron bed with a thin blanket covering it. "Down tha' hall is tha' bathroom. Jokah and I will be just across the hall if ya needin' anything."
"Thanks," I said. I laid down on the bed. It was hard, nothing like what I was dreaming of in the car.
"Everything all right?" she asked.
"Fine. Thank you."
"Get some rest. Ya goin' golfin' tomorrah with mistah J." She walked out and shut the door. I let out a sigh, partly of relief, partly of disappointment. How in the world was I supposed to go out in my condition? I knew if I said no to him, he'd probably cut my throat or something.
I fell asleep easily, even with the uncomfortable bed. I woke up, though, having trouble breathing and with a sharp pain in my chest. My heart started racing and my muscles were stiffening again. I called out for help sheepishly because the pain seemed to grip my vocal chords. Thankfully, they heard me and came in the room.
"What's the matter, my boy?" Joker asked.
"I…I can't…breathe," I stammered.
"Should we get a doctah?" Harley asked.
"Yes," I managed. "Get…a doctor. Quickly!" The room was turning blurry. Voices were becoming muffled. I thought I was dying. Before I knew it the room turned black and every noise was silenced.
