I was just standing there, minding my own business, when the bell rang out as someone opened the door. I looked up, prepared to say my usual, "Welcome to Lai Lai!"
The words died on my lips.
"Love your hair," the Joker said, leaning over the cash register to grin at me.
I've been told my smile is my best feature. I smile when I'm happy; I smile more when I'm not. I smile constantly at work. I've never been good at talking to my customers, but I don't want them to think I'm not happy to see them. So I smile.
A big, friendly smile spread across my face now.
"Thanks. I like your…tie." (His own face was printed on the tie, in all its garish glory. I had seen them sold in a novelty shop just down the street. They weren't very popular.)
"What's your name, pretty lady?" he asked, sounding an awful lot like some of the customers I used to have at Waffle House—the amorous drunken trucker type. "Are you married?"
I blush a lot when I'm embarrassed. My regulars back in Smallville used to flirt with me mercilessly just to see my face turn red. For a minute there, I could have sworn that the Joker was just Steve or Roger in a clown mask.
Maybe that's what gave me the courage to banter with him instead of curling up under the buffet table and praying.
"I don't believe in marriage. It's just the state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress, and two slaves, making in all, two." He giggled. I decided that was a good thing. Keep him happy, try to do my job, and maybe he would go away and no one would get hurt. "I don't think you came in here just to chat with little old me, Mr. Jay. What can I get you?"
He seemed surprised. I guess most cashiers are a little more intimidated by him, and probably don't offer to open their registers until he starts demanding money. It actually never occurred to me that he might rob us.
"What's the best thing on your menu?"
"Mongolian Chicken," I said without hesitation.
"I'll take it."
When I rang him up, he gave me that classic "you've got to be kidding" look. Then, cackling, he gave me six bloodstained dollar bills, one of them marred by what turned out to be a bullet hole.
"Will the bank take this?" I asked.
"Do I look like I know what a bank would take?"
Right, of course. This was a guy who made withdrawals, not deposits. I gave him his change like a good little girl.
I've never seen Mongolian Chicken cooked so fast.
I bagged it up and gave it to him, trying not to actually touch him as I did so. I mean, it's one thing to be able to say you've been touched by the Joker, but something else entirely to actually be touched by the Joker. If he hadn't been wearing gloves, I don't think I could have done it. Good mood or not, this was the Joker in all of his face-melty goodness.
"Do you need any sauce with that? Chopsticks? A fork?"
"No, thanks, Fran." He was halfway to the door before I realized I had never actually told him my name.
I figured I could either have a panic attack, or give him a nice, friendly goodbye like I did with all my other customers.
Judging by the look on my boss's face, it wouldn't be a good idea to say, "Thank you, come again."
So I said, "Tell your friends."
Smeg.
I should have stuck with, "Have a nice day." The classics never die.