Something Funny

I was intrigued, at the end of The Dark Knight, when the Joker suggested that he and Batman would share a padded cell once everything was over. This was the result of such interest.



“Good morning, Batman,” a voice crooned. Batman was awake in an instant, his hand a flash as it shot out to grab whoever it was by the throat. He focused through the eyeholes of his mask to see the Joker grinning back at him. His makeup was smudged, like he hadn’t been able to refresh it in awhile, and he was wearing a white jumpsuit instead of his usual purple suit. Batman looked down to see that he, too was dressed in a white jumpsuit, with the exception of his mask. Which wasn’t a surprise, as the base of it was wired with a high voltage shock device.

“Where are we?” he asked the Joker, his voice a harsh rasp. It was his normal Batman voice, but it mostly came out that way because he was so thirsty.

“Look around, Bat Boy,” the Joker said, his voice pinched under Batman’s pressure. “We’re in that padded cell you promised me. I told you they’d double us up.”

Batman tossed the Joker away from him, ignoring him as he sprawled across the admittedly soft floor. The room was white. White ceiling, white walls, white floor, white sheets on two white cots. The door was white, and there was a long narrow window that stretched about eighteen inches, allowing a view of a white hallway. The only color in the place was the Joker’s painted face.

“This is a mistake,” Batman said, striding across the squishy floor to the door, pushing against it with all his strength. Though he put a few dents in it, it remained stubbornly intact. “I’m not crazy.”

“Well, neither am I, but that didn’t stop them from putting me in here,” the Joker said, rising and brushing himself off as he made his way to sit on a cot.

“You’re a murdering psychopath,” Batman hissed, rounding on the Joker. A fight would do wonders for his temper right now. Plus, he had no peripheral vision in the mask.

“And what do you do in your spare time, hm? Help little old ladies across the street?” The Joker shook his head slowly. “No, no. You hunt down us murdering psychopaths, and you throw us off of buildings. Not so shiny a reputation, now is it?”

“It’s different,” Batman said. He really hated this man.

“How so? Just because you kill bad man and I kill, well, anyone really, doesn’t mean you had any more right to it than I did. At least that’s what the little people think.” He nodded toward the window where a nurse was walking purposefully down the hall, a clipboard held at her side.
Batman rapped his knuckles against the glass. She glanced up, but quickly averted her eyes, hurrying past.

“Wait,” he called. “There’s been a mistake!”

“Not so cool as a cucumber in here, are you?” the Joker asked, reclining back on the cot. “The big bad superhero have claustrophobia?”

“Quiet,” Batman said, watching the nurse hurry away.

“They can’t hear you out there, you know. The walls are soundproof.” The Joker examined the nails on one hand. “Good thing, too. You yell like a crazy man in your sleep.”

“I do not,” Batman said, turning again to face him. It was odd, wearing his mask but not feeling the protection of his armor constricting his body. Having his vision so constricted, but not having a cape to swirl around him.

“You do. You yell about, what was her name? Rachel? Yes, Rachel. And Alfred. And any number of other people you’ve failed to save over the years, I imagine. Although, I was disappointed not to hear my name amongst the others. Here I’d thought I’d invaded your psyche and set up camp there, torturing you little bits at a time.”

“Maybe you’re not as influential as you think.”

“Maybe the same could be said for you, oh Caped Crusader. Otherwise, why would you be locked up in here with me?” The Joker regarded him for a moment, licking his lips almost absently. “Doesn’t it get hot under that mask?”

“Doesn’t it get itchy under that makeup?”

“Touché.”

Batman turned back to the door, wanting to kick his way through it, claw his way through the walls, but at the same time knowing that if he did, the Joker would be set loose once again.
“Why would they lock me up in here with you?”

“Aside from the fact that you apparently indiscriminately killed five people while I was being cut down from that wire?”

“That wouldn’t land me in here with you.”

“Like I said before, Gotham seems to be going crazy one person at a time. This place is full up. Probably they figured if anyone could survive being locked up with you, it would be me.”

“Probably, they figured it was the other way around.” Another nurse walked by. Batman pounded on the window, feeling the glass shake under his fist. She whirled and glared at him, and he could see the words Knock it off! on her lips before she stalked off.

“That one’s a feisty one,” the Joker said, watching from his cot. He drew a finger under his left eye, coating it with black makeup, then smearing it along the wall in a long, jagged line that eventually faded into nothing.

“What’s that for?” Batman asked, eyeing the line suspiciously.

“Day one,” the Joker replied, and laughed.