(open/incomplete)
WHO: The Joker, Batman, and anyone else.
WHAT: The clown prince decides to adopt.
WHERE: His place~
WHEN: Day 232, night.
He had been free for a few days now, and he was reveling in the taste of such freedom. The Joker painted the town red with Batman's gallery of rogues minus dear, old Pammy. She was always a stick in the mud when it came to parties, and appeared to have dragged Harley down with her. One morning, she was there. Then, the next morning, she was not. Oh well!~ More cake for him.
And more cake indeed when he was perusing through his journal and found a young Brucey and he cackled to himself as the kid was left vulnerable. The Joker could not pass on the opportunity to find the boy in the chaotic streets of Rivelata (deepest regards to Pamela) and snatching him up like candy for the taking.
"Oh, sonny boy. I was worried sick," he cooed, dragging him kicking and screaming to his mansion on the edge of town. It was big and vast -- an excellent pick from its prior divine owners. It had many rooms, and the Joker picked on a floral, pastel one to throw Bruce in. He locked him in, throwing away the key and sawed a tiny slit at the bottom of the door for table scraps and the morning news.
The Joker sat with his back against the door, twiddling his thumbs and listening for the smallest whimper, the loudest scream, the banging of tiny fists on the wood and plaster.
"Would you like to hear a story?"
WHAT: The clown prince decides to adopt.
WHERE: His place~
WHEN: Day 232, night.
He had been free for a few days now, and he was reveling in the taste of such freedom. The Joker painted the town red with Batman's gallery of rogues minus dear, old Pammy. She was always a stick in the mud when it came to parties, and appeared to have dragged Harley down with her. One morning, she was there. Then, the next morning, she was not. Oh well!~ More cake for him.
And more cake indeed when he was perusing through his journal and found a young Brucey and he cackled to himself as the kid was left vulnerable. The Joker could not pass on the opportunity to find the boy in the chaotic streets of Rivelata (deepest regards to Pamela) and snatching him up like candy for the taking.
"Oh, sonny boy. I was worried sick," he cooed, dragging him kicking and screaming to his mansion on the edge of town. It was big and vast -- an excellent pick from its prior divine owners. It had many rooms, and the Joker picked on a floral, pastel one to throw Bruce in. He locked him in, throwing away the key and sawed a tiny slit at the bottom of the door for table scraps and the morning news.
The Joker sat with his back against the door, twiddling his thumbs and listening for the smallest whimper, the loudest scream, the banging of tiny fists on the wood and plaster.
"Would you like to hear a story?"