Two hours later, I raised my body from the couch and wiped the tears and smudged makeup from my face. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself. Puddin' would only rot away in that horrid place if I didn't save him (even though he usually broke himself out, I had a feeling this time that Arkham had stepped up the security outside his padded cell - maybe he was even triple-straightjacketed!). I mentally kicked myself for wasting time sobbing that I could have used to come up with a plan. Well, until inspiration struck, I'd go and visit him every day, maybe even bring some baked goods. Mister J loved my lemon merengue pies....
The road to Arkham Asylum was unlike the rest of Gotham's roadways, perfectly paved in case of a criminal breakout (potholes could cause a 15-minute backup, as was the case when the Riddler escaped from Arkham last year - but they still caught him. No one was as good at breaking out as my baby doll!), but it still seemed ominous, and I drove faster.
"Name?" the woman at the desk asked lazily when I ran in.
"Harleen Quinzel. I'm here to visit a patient."
"Patient's name?"
"T-the Joker,"I answered with nervous excitement, knowing I was minutes away from seeing my sweetie patootie. One of the interns, skinny, goateed and smoking a cigarette laughed meanly, a sort of hoarse, sputtery cackle.
"Oh, you can't visit him today, Longlegs...but I'm on my break." He winked at my lower half.
"Those are great. What time do they open?" I'd dressed up, hoping to give my Puddin' something to occupy his mind with (me :D) besides a plan to escape (it might even inspire him, knowing what he was missing at home), but now I was thinking the black spaghetti-strap minidress with the rare purple pearl earrings he'd nicked for me from the Gotham Costume Institute's jewelry exhibit (it was risky, wearing them in public, but I had to because they were a declaration of his undying love for me) was a bad idea. I'd worn it to knock the socks off my sweetie, but now this pig could ogle me. My first thought went to the perfume bottle filled with Joker Venom I kept in my purse...but then I'd go to Arkham and never get out. An almost-eternity without Mister J? Not even a possibility.
"Charlie!" I almost cried, hearing the familiar voice reprimand him.
"Sorry, Doc...this chick wants to see Joker."
"Well, you can't - he's in solitary lockup...Harleen?"
"Joan, you've got to let me see him!" I felt my competantcy, my sanity, unraveling by the second as I begged to my former colleague. But there was a reason Joan Leland was Arkham's top and only female psychiatrist: her iron will.
"Harleen, he almost blew up a building full of over a thousand people. He's on round-the-clock observation, and it'd be stupid, not to mention downright dangerous, to let him see anyone. Not even the Batman got his request for a visit granted." The young receptionist sighed at the mention of Batman, but I just felt angry. Why did everyone love him so much? They obviously didn't understand that he ruined everything!
As I fell to the ground sobbing, I felt the sharp-yet-soft prick of a needle in my shoulder, but I no longer cared. They could straightjacket me up and bar my entrances and not let me leave for the rest of my life...as long as Mister J and I were together. Sort of. Being in the same building definitely counted, right?
YOU ARE READING
My Boyfriend Is a Psychopathic Clown: Harley Quinn's Story
FanfictionDating the Joker (especially the hot, Heath Ledger-type Joker) is a dream of many Batman fangirls (me! ME!!!!!! But only if I can't have The Scarecrow, a la Batman Begins\Cillian Murphy's sexy-psychatrist Dr. Crane, who makes glasses hotter than abs...
