Sorry to keep the readers of this blog waiting this long. It’s
been, what – 6, 7 months? The Justice League – twats, as I call them – have
been busy. I’m only a cleaner here. Well, Gotham’s comedian, actually. I’ll
introduce myself real quick.
I used to be just a cleaner at Gotham comedy clubs. A meek
17 year-old boy doing menial jobs to pay for college because my parents were
gone. Tonight, though, I was performing for the first time! You can imagine I
was nervous as fuck. Asides the typical stage fright, my crush was amongst the
audience. Who the hell invited her? She
was Sophie. Beautiful, blue-eyed redneck with the prettiest hair that’d make a
Brazilian girl jealous. Her ass was round and perfect! I even touched it (heh heh!) two semesters ago in school
“by accident”, but she turned around and slapped me across the face. I argued hard
that it could have easily been a mistake, but nobody in the ladies toilet
believed me, for some reason.
Ah, I know who invited her. None other than that twat Bruce!
Bruce fucking Wayne. Rich kid, prom king, baseball player; he was perfect. All
the girls loved him and hated me. He bullied me in class and must have known I
had a thing for Sophie. Probably invited her to come to watch me embarrass
myself. Dick.
“Our next comedian is a guy named Jack! Give it up!”
announced tonight’s host.
Applause followed and I had to walk up to the stage. Trembling
and nervously, I shuffled onto the stage.
Am I sure I can do
this?
There were so many of them watching. All of a sudden, I
faked a fall to the ground and then got myself up again. The audience watched
in concern as I grabbed the mic.
“Sorry about that fall,” I spoke, “It’s just a stage I’m
going through…”
As expected, the crowd roared in laughter. Ha! I knew that joke would go down well.
Bruce Wayne and his friends were front row, frowning at the reaction. Eat your heart out, you cunts.
Suddenly, it happened! “Jack here pees the bed every night!”
screamed Bruce Wayne, pointing at my trousers.
A couple of people behind him noticed the stains and began
to laugh.
“No… I don’t, I swear –” I stammered.
But it was too late. They were all pointing and cackling.
Even Sophie – my crush – buried her face in her hands, laughing uncontrollably.
I was so embarrassed I dropped the mic and ran off the stage. How could he do
this to me? I had just about enough – they were all going to die!
When the night was over, I followed each and every member of
that audience home. They had to pay! I hid in their backseats. Soon as they
notice me in their rear-view mirror, I urinated in their faces and watched them
crash into a tree. No harm befell me, of course, as I had my seatbelt on. Call
it a weird thing to do, but it was just my way of pissing them off!
Others, I kept wrapped boxes of PlayStations on top their
car for them… as a gift… labelled “Have a
blast!” Minutes later, it explodes in their faces. Hey! Anything for a great pun, eh?
And Sophie? She was special. Oh, she was. Covered her up in
a tomb with bugs I’d gotten from Italy. Women do love the Romantick, don’t they?
Fast forward 20 years
later, Bruce Wayne is a changed man. Wears a ridiculous costume, fights crime
and stops evil maniacs like me. Well,
I have a message for you, Bruce. I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on
Gotham police, and I have over 300 confirmed skills. How can you stop me? I am
trained in guerilla warfare, chemical poisoning and a bomb specialist. I can be
anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s
just with my bare hands. How do you stop a man like me?? You are nothing to me,
Batman, but just another target. Better prepare for the storm. The storm that
wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. Not only am I
extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have secret access to the entire
arsenal of the Gotham police and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your
miserable ass off the face of the continent.
Who am I? Well, I finally became the comedian everyone knows
and loathes. Or, as they now call me, the Joker.
