My Boyfriend Is a Psychopathic Clown: Harley Quinn's Story

The Things Our Friends Do For Us!

I told Mr. J that Batman had escaped on his own, knowing that we really needed to work on our communication skills, but figuring that right now, it was for the best that he wasn't mad at me. After all, I had ruined his best caper ever, but there would be other times to catch Batman..right?

"Puddin' we're on the news!!!!" Mr. J looked up from his breakfast of smiling pancakes (courtesy of me) to come over and take a closer look.

"Well, hold the phone!" he declared. "It's about time they feature us again! Is Batman talking? That's one experience he'll never forget. Soon Bane won't be the only one to break the Bat!"

We got so distracted planning our next capture of Batman that we completely forgot to watch the GNN report. Oh, well - we'd catch it online later.

The next week, cops showed up at our door.

"Hey, Gordon," Puddin' drawled, pushing past the liutenant to grab Montoya around the waist, dip her backwards, and kiss her on the lips. I would have been jealous if I hadn't known he was just doing it for shock value. She spat in his face.

"Get off me, clown!"

"Two can play that game, goody-goody princess," he retaliated, gesturing toward his rubber squirty flower pinned to the lapel of his orange plaid suit jacket, and she whipped out her gun.

"Same to you, Joker. Now put your hands behind you and get in the car."

We were cuffed and driven away with - not willingly, but they got us.

"So where's the loot?"

Puddin didn't bat an eyelash.

"What loot?"

Actually, we had a lot of hidden treasure troves around Gotham - some of our stealings were buried in the sewers under the city. That was our emergency rations. And it was an excellent tunnel system, after we'd found a mini-submarine to navigate it in. I'd even painted laughing smileys on the sides so it was pretty!

Gordon sighed and put a security tape into their DVD player. It was us, all right...maybe not??

"I don't remember that, Mr. J. When was that??"

We must have been having an off night, because the job was sloppy and humorless; if there were any jokes, they were corny and overdone.

"It's imposters! We're being impersonated!" Mr. J was positively irate!!! I could picture the smoke whooshing from his ears (he has cute ears, by the way.) So they let us go, once we took ten million polygraph tests to swear it hadn't been us who robbed that bank. The media loved that we had this following, though it made them annoyed they could never catch our "doubles"...and it was driving Mr. J crazier.

"What if no one ever stops them? I'm taking out a hit. You're friends with the Riley girl, right? Her father said he'd send some men after those cocky kids when I mentioned you kept his princess company in Arkham. Mobsters really aren't half the hype."

Hearing they were at risk of being killed made our imitators wise up. Their crimes got better too. They'd truly learned from a master. But as soon as we thought we were making progress, the entirety of Riley's mob got busted for their involvement in smuggling drugs in products exported from Ireland. They would collect the items, remove the drugs, and sell them. Peyton was distraught at her father's jail stay, but she knew his expert lawyer, a brazen, brassy-haired woman who was also his secret lover, would manage something. Sean Riley and his men would walk the streets again in a couple of months. Until then, however, we were sunk.

I was moping around, feeling sorry for us, when I got the phone call.

"Hey, Harls - it's Mia. Remember me?"

"Of course. It's not a good time to chat, though - I'm feeling a little down."

"The fake Joker and Harley thing? That's what I'm calling about. See, I found something that belongs to the 'other Harley' - big, gaudy, fake diamond pendant on a trashy chain - and put a tracker on it 'cause I have connections. I'm going over there to kill them now. 'Puddin' said he wanted to come and watch. By the way, your brother is... hot like fudge on a sundae."

"We'll talk about Finn later," I snapped at her, raising myself off the couch and forcing one of our hired help to drive me to Mia's residence. She had them tied up. "Joker" was a effeminate man whose body and limbs reminded me of Twizzlers, Pull-and-Peel, specifically. They were the best kind. "Harley" was a pasty blonde with bad roots and fat legs.

How had she EVER pulled off being me?

I mentally thanked my parents for good genes.

"Do you want me to do it now?" Mia asked casually, and Mr. J nodded excitedly, not even giving them the few seconds it would take to beg for their lives as she nailed them with eyes that were suddenly the most frightening thing in the world....

Her skin seemed redder afterwards, like she'd zapped up all their blood and transferred it to her own body. There were no visible cuts (the magic of eternal bleeding).

Mr. J slapped a bag of cash in her hand (at my insistance), and she nodded gratefully.

"But, really, Harley," she called as we were leaving, "It was no trouble at all. "

"Drive to Star Chemicals," I told our driver-for-the-day.

"Why?" Mr. J asked. He wanted to go out and catch Batman again.

"I want to talk to my brother."

(Harley's brother stars in my latest segment of my Scarecrow fanfiction. Go there to learn more about him. But he's coming up in the next chapter. I made him up. And he's awesome. Just sayin').

-SBR