"Hi, Mr. Joker, my name's Meg Bryant, and I'm gonna be your photographer today," said the woman who greeted the Joker in his cell. "I'm so glad you decided to contact our magazine – we've been looking for a feature that'll appeal to…less mainstream readers, shall we say. And a celebrity such as yourself is sure to prove incredibly popular with our female readers, especially those with…specialist tastes."
"Oooh, flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart!" he chuckled. "Which is good, because I ain't taking my clothes off without it! Where do you want me?"
"Here in your cell is good," she said. "It's an intimate setting for an intimate look at the man many people consider to be nothing but a maniacal monster. But we're going to have photographic evidence today that you're all man, and I'm betting quite an impressive one."
"You bet right, sweetheart!" he chuckled. "So you want me completely nude? I think I wanna keep my socks on if that's ok – the garters drive the ladies wild!"
"Uh…sure, that's fine," stammered Meg. "I've brought some props if you wanna pose with them…I've got a stuffed Batman, and a Batman mask, and…"
"What are you trying to say about me and Bats?" demanded Joker.
"Uh…nothing," she said, slowly. "I just think it might be the sorta thing to titillate our readers' interest."
"Well, I've got my own props to titillate," said Joker, coldly. Then he grinned. "I'm sure Harley can personally vouch for their tit-elation!" he chuckled. "God, I tell ya, toots, sometimes I think it's unfair that I'm both this funny and attractive. All of the other guys in the world just pale in comparison. I'm surprised more of them don't commit suicide after they meet me. Although a fair number of them do end up dead regardless. Anyway, I got my slide whistle here, so I can hold that next to it to compare size and length," he chuckled, reaching under the bed and pulling out the whistle. "I also got my whoopie cushion. I can do things with that you won't believe," he giggled. "And, y'know, the joy buzzer, rubber chicken, boxing glove gun, depending on how hardcore you wanna get. So which one should I start with?"
"Uh…how about one of just you?" she said. "Maybe posed against the bars?"
"Oooh, I like it!" he giggled. "I guess my looks are criminal!"
He whistled, heading over to the bars and taking off his shirt. He pulled off his pants and looked toward the door, frowning. "Hmm…an insanely jealous clown girl should be knocking down that door any second now. Oh well," he shrugged, reaching down to remove his boxers.
The door banged open at that moment. "Buncha crazies ain't gonna assassinate me to get to Mr. J!" shrieked Harley Qunn, standing in the doorway shaking in rage. "Beat it, toots!" she cried, grabbing the camera from Meg and smashing it on the ground. "This shoot is over, and if you don't want me to shoot you in the face, you'll get your pervy photographer behind outta my boyfriend's cell, and outta this asylum! He's for my eyes only, get it?!"
"But…Miss Quinn…he's the one who invited me…" began Meg.
"Yeah, and now I'm ordering you to get the hell out!" Harley shrieked. "Nobody's gonna sell pictures of my puddin's body to a buncha looney magazine readers who'll go nuts for him! I can't compete with that kinda competition! There's only room for one psycho completely obsessed with Mr. J in the world, and that's me! You ain't creating more of them! Now out!"
Meg sighed, picking up the broken remains of the camera. "My employers are gonna kill me," she muttered.
"If you don't get outta here now, I'm literally gonna kill you," retorted Harley. "So you take your pick of which one you'd prefer."
Meg sighed again and left. "And you!" shrieked Harley, turning to face the Joker. "You put your clothes back on right now, Mr. J!"
He shrugged. "Ok, pooh, if you insist," he said, reaching for his shirt.
"Or…wait…no, don't do that!" said Harley suddenly, realizing that Mr. J in the semi-nude wasn't an experience she got often.
"No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of upsetting my little Harley baby by staying undressed a moment longer…" he said, pulling on his shirt.
"No, Mr. J, really, it's ok," she said, trying to pull it off again. "As long as it's just the two of us, you can completely strip off if you want…"
"Harley, what's going on in here?" demanded Dr. Leland, who had been heading back to her office from the cell block when she had seen Harley fighting to pull off Joker's clothes.
"Oh…nothing, Joan," said Harley, quickly. "Uh…I was just trying to convince Mr. J that it's ok to be naked in private with me, as opposed to that nude photoshoot he was gonna do…"
"What nude photoshoot?" demanded Dr. Leland. "This is a hospital for the mentally ill! We can't have people taking advantage of our patients by taking naked pictures of them! That's completely illegal!"
"There, y'see, Mr. J?" said Harley, triumphantly. "You wouldn't wanna have broken the law, would ya?"
"I'm certainly not the kinda guy who does that," said Joker, nodding. "Gee, it's a good thing you got here when you did, Doc. Cause Pammie's meant to be doing a naked photo shoot in a few hours with some guys from Playman. You'd better go put a stop to that."
Dr. Leland glared at him. "Is this a joke?" she demanded.
"No, Joan, it's true!" exclaimed Harley. "Red tried to talk me into being involved, but I wasn't comfortable with it. But she and Selina are still gonna go through with it."
"This is completely unacceptable!" snapped Dr. Leland. "Why do we even have visitors check-in at reception if an army of photographers can just waltz through here?! Oh, somebody is getting fired!" she hissed, storming out of the cell block.
Joker giggled. "I can't wait to see the look on Pammie's face when she's prevented from her whole female empowerment crusade by a woman doctor! What a great gag for a great day!"
"I know how to make today even greater, puddin'," purred Harley.
"Not right now, Harley," he said, pushing her away and dressing. "Go and find someone else to bother, huh?"
Harley sighed, reluctantly leaving his cell. "Our anniversary can't come soon enough," she muttered.