Thanks to the unfortunate slip-up of last weekend, this chapter is probably familiar to you all…at least parts of it. Hopefully that didn't spoil your fun for the rest of this chapter…
On a bittersweet note, I would like to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR HEATH LEDGER! (Unfortunately I missed Micheal Caine and Gary Oldman's birthdays, as well as Christian Bale's. Next time!)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, Pink Floyd, "Yesterday" by The Beatles (bless them), Los Toreadors by G. Bizet, or "Iron Man" by Black Sabbath. Only this plot.
Chapter Forty-Two: Joker
At first, it seemed like spring would never show up, but…ta-da! Here it is.
This was one of the more…interesting winters, let me tell you. We had a warm house, which meant no more waking up freezing. Batsy was determined to keep our meetings out on the streets instead of in my comfy bed. (That plan didn't last, of course). I found out through a few, ah, entertaining games of chess and poker that Al can sing a mean version of The Beatles' "Yesterday." And the Mob, despite their (very poor) efforts, managed to at least attempt to be good ol' boys.
But now that winter's gone, it's time to…celebrate.
--
I laugh wildly as Seymour and I swerve through the streets of Gotham, duffel bags stuffed with money in the backseat of the van.
My Bentley is for me alone to use, see. It's too special for something as simple as a robbery.
Oh, Maroni, you thought your pharmacy investment would be yours alone. You thought I wouldn't dare sneak into your posh ol' palace and find your safe. You thought you wouldn't have to deal with me again.
Never, ever throw away a bad penny. It'll always come back…with gum on your shoe.
"Hey, Seymour—did you see the way those wimps freaked when they got the joke?" I clap my hands delightedly as Seymour chuckles and lurches into another lane.
Ten of my boys got caught in a mousetrap. My mousetrap.
Everything was going swell. Most of the company's oh-so-slick workers were either dead, unconscious, or going ape, and we had looted the place, finding not one, not two, but three safes to nab. We were hauling the money off to the car (it wasn't much, but it was more than enough) and all but skipping as we went—even Wobbles, the chubbiest of the boys.
Soooo…I decided that there just wasn't enough room in the van for everybody. We're gonna need to, ah, make space.
"Well, boys, looks like we need a little…competition. Whoever's still alive gets to sit in the backseat. Fire away." With that, I climbed into the car, Seymour at the wheel.
"Drive, Seymour," I ordered, waving at Wobbles.
"But Boss—"
"No. Buts." I pulled out my Glock and pointed it at Wobbles' confused face. "Drive, or I'll
put you out there with 'em."
Seymour gulped and did as he was told, and gunshots ensued.
Whether those idiots are actually alive or not is anyone's guess. The screams were fairly, ah, reliable.
…That was how I began Spring Cleaning.
I toss my "frowny-clown" mask into the air, watching as it flies off into a jogger's line of vision. I've never seen someone jump that high…
I'm wearing my "human" mask underneath that cheap plastic, of course—just in case I have to take a leak at some little gas station. There's nothing quite like being put under arrest while Mr. Giggles is trying to answer, ah, "Nature's call".
"Aren't you glad to be alive, Seymour ol' pal?" I ask, as the money bags bounce in the back.
Seymour gets the hint. "…Yeah, Boss! I sure am!" He lets out a whoop of glee as we bypass a cop car, blowing raspberries at the driver as we go.
"Glad to hear it," I say with a grin, cranking up the volume on our radio.
There's nothing quite like listening to Pink Floyd on the first day of Spring, with the sun on your skin and the wind in your hair…and a Bat on the brain, of course. But then, these days he's always on my mind.
Sweet, right? "When's the wedding, Mr. J?, you ask? Wrong.
In a way, I'm…proud of Batsy. He's been making things a lot more interesting than they were. More of the old-school thing going on—less Vigilantes Gone Wild and more Bang-Pow-Blammo!, which is something I'm…okay with. I at least wanted to have a few more rounds of poker with him and Al.
But that's okay. We've got allllll the time in the world.
As we pass the city cemetery—which is hardly peaceful, given how it's still in the middle of the smogandbustle of the place—I suddenly want to visit two old friends of mine.
"Seymour, stopstopstop the car. I've got a lovely couple to see!" I giggle as we lurch forward, digging around in my pockets until I find what I'm looking for. "Ah. Perfect."
I hop out the car, gesturing for Seymour to, ah, make himself comfy for awhile…and keep the money safe, of course. I grin at the lady selling flowers by the entrance, and buy a charming little bouquet of white roses off her before heading inside. I think I creeped her out a tad. Oops.
By this point, I know exactly where I'm headed. A turn past the dead soldiers, go straight past the ex-Mayors, and…there.
The grass brushes wetly against my legs as I kneel down in front of Harvey and Rachel's graves.
There's plenty of flowers from the other good sheeple of Gotham—lillies, roses, a few daisies—and even a little campaign button. Cute.
I'm sure they, ah, appreciate the sentiment. I know I do. It lets me know I have the audiences'…undivided attention.
I smile at the gravestones, idly tracing the names and, ah, the little tearjerker etchings on the cold stones ("We still believe" and "our Angel who was taken too soon"). It's been awhile since my last visit. I hope they're not…lonely.
But then, they've got each other for company. Lovers until the end…how sappy.
I breathe in the fresh Spring air, letting it slither out in a "Hiiiiiiiii."
The cemetery grows even…stiller than before.
I place the roses on Rachel's grave. "Thought you might like these. It's Spring today—isn't that great? Now you and Harvey don't have to cuddle in close during those cold nights…but then again, that's more of a good thing, hmm?"
I pat the mound of dirt that covers Harvey, grinning "down" at him. "But don't you worry, Har-Har-Haaaarvey, I've got a little something for you too!"
I take the silver dollar out of my coat pocket, scratching it with my Cupid knife (a real compliment) into an "H" before flipping it down onto Harvey's grave.
"Sure, it's not your coin, but maybe you'll find some use for it. Like the other ones." I put my Cupid back in my coat and look up at the sky.
Harvey and Rachel aren't exactly, ah, talk-a-holics, but I'm sure they're listening…wherever they are. And since they're such good listeners, I can talk about whatever I want.
So I talk to them about the Mob, Gotham, the boys, what I had for breakfast, my "Spring Cleaning", how Gordon's really working his ass off trying to keep everything under control, and Batsy. For giggles, I decide to go into painstaking detail about the fun Batsy and I had this Christmas.
I can see the poor little angels turning red in the afterlife as clear as day. Maybe Rachel's crying sugary tears, while Harvey tries to make her feel better.
It's a…soothing image.
Soon, though, there's nothing else to really talk about, so I'm left just sitting here. I stare at the rose bouquet as it rustles in the wind, and can't help but feel a bit…chilly all of a sudden.
"Well, looks like I've gotta skedaddle." I brush my hands off on my pants and stand up, looking down at the graves in satisfaction. "Let's talk again soon, hmm?"
I'm always back. Whenever I get the chance, I have these little, ah, get-togethers with my two works of art. In retrospect, I really shouldn't have…let them go so quick. They're like an old album you thought was trash, and then come to find out—whaddya know, they're a priceless antique with never-before-heard tunes!
But I did. So I get to tell them all about what they're missing instead. It's…fun.
But somehow I get the feeling I won't, ah, be back here for awhile. Things are never this peaceful around Gotham.
I hear someone else approaching and whip around, ready for anything—only to find Batsy and Al heading back from another set of gravestones—the Wayne's, I'm sure.
As soon as Batsy realizes where I've been sitting, he goes absolutely…livid. Al doesn't look too happy either.
"What are you doing here," Batsy asks, hands clenched into familiar fists. And if my ears do not, ah, deceive me, he almost slipped into that lovely Batman Growl.
"Oh, just giving the Harv-meister and Rachel-dearest a visit," I say, patting the headstones fondly. "Did you? I'm sure they were thrilled to see you again!"
"You don't deserve to be near them." Batsy's got one hell of a furrow between his handsome 'brows. Any chance of being wrinkleless in a few years has just gone waaay down…
"Oh, well, 'scuse me for just dropping by." I wave and turn on my heel, more than ready to leave. "I was just off to lunch anyway. I've got a, ah, hankering for some pie…"
"Don't play innocent, Joker." I can hear Batsy moving closer, and turn around just in time to dodge out of the way as he lunges for my arm.
"Temper, temper," I say chidingly. "Would Rachel like you acting like this? I don't think sooooo!"
"Shut up!"
I gasp mockingly. "I'm…enthralled at your, ah, verbal repartee Batsy!"
Batsy's really getting riled up—I guess I'd better, ah, blow this popsicle stand while I can.
"Later, Bat and Butler. It's been…swell." I wave in the direction of Harvey and Rachel's graves. "You two sleep tight, now!"
I'm whistling as loudly as I can (Los Toreadors), but I can still hear Al say softly as I tramp away "Master Bruce, I suggest that we leave as well."
--
Seymour's been a good boy. He's still waiting for me, scream-singing (badly) along with a Heavy Metal band on the radio.
"Seymour!" I tap the car window.
He just keeps on screeching. "IIIIIIII AM IRONNNNN MAAAAAAAAAAN…"
"Seymour."
And screeching…nice guitar impression…
Finally, I step in front of the car, slam my hands on the window, smoosh my face against it, and scream "SEYMOUR!"
Seymour lets out a screech any teenage girl would envy and switches the radio off. "Wh-what's up, Boss?"
"We're going to get some pie," I say, climbing in to ride shotgun. "Let's get rollin'."
I watch as Batsy and Al walk across the street…and can't help but notice the, ah, suspicious black Sedan that just so happens to be nearby.
Which just so happens to be tailing everyone's favorite Bat and Butler.
Who just so happen to be heading toward a more, ah, secluded part of town. Near the city bookstore, actually. Fewer witnesses that way…
I don't…believe in coincidences.
"On second thought, Seymour…pie'll have to wait."
