I didn't get up to Star Chemicals, though. Family isn't very high on Mr. J's happy list, I guess because he never had one. At least he has me, though. That's better than nothing. Besides, he said he had some important errands to do. Right now, he was pacing around the house, reading off of a piece of paper.
"Bagels - check! Laundry soap - check! C-4...how did that end up on the grocery list?? But - check! I had to get an extra shipment, 'cause we need it for our big outing tonight!!!!!"
"But, Puddin'...can't we just stay home and watch a good movie? Or we could, y'know...fool around?" But not even my new Victoria's Secret nightie could deter Mr. J from his plan (then, did dressing myself up in sexy lingerie ever work??) So, like the good girlfriend I always was, I dutifully put on the bulletproof vest I always wore nowadays, since Riddler got downed by a couple of cops with shotguns and broke three ribs, then my harlequin suit and clown makeup. Strapping my new sniper rifle to my back (it was a present from Selina - she said that a wild girl should never be without one. Even though I had Mr. J to protect me, I hoped I would get to shoot it tonight.) and touching up my lip gloss, I was ready for action!
Our mission was fairly simple. We were robbing the priciest jewelry store in Gotham so Puddin' could make a giant sculplture of himself using diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and other colorful gemstones and put it up in the center of the city. I was determined not to screw it up, because this was going to be awesome! Plus, who was more deserving of a giant statue than my Mr. J? He livened things up in this city, Where would we be without him?
"Get out of that limo, before I blow your heads off," Puddin' called to a car full of teen socialites, their hair perfectly coiffed, taught midriffs sandwiched by tight tube tops and clingy low-rise jeans. The little rich girls in our city loved to party, and Mr. J, despite their fun-loving attitudes, had a personal vendetta against them.
"Or maybe I will, just for fun." Quickly, he stuck the nose of his gun into one of the windows and fired at random, jerking it around so bullets ricotched off the walls of the luxury car. The girls, one bleeding profusely -he hit dead-center of her face, ruining her possibly plastic Black Diamond ski-slope nose - scurried out of the car, their Prada purses riddled with bullet holes, frantically dialing the cops.
"Darn it...now we have to ditch the car," Mr. J groused, and I was sad too - I'd been looking forward to a nice limo ride and the free snacks. Instead, we just took one of the parked cars (which was unlocked, lucky us!)
"I love these smartcars," Puddin' shouted out the passenger window (I drove so he could shoot pigeons with his new acid paintball gun). Finally, we pulled up to the jewelry store. It was closed, but we broke in with a crowbar I BeDazzled one boring rainy day.
He was like a kid in a candy shop, running around and stuffing gems into bags...when the cops showed up.
"Freeze, clown!" barked a beefy cop. I had to stop them from stopping us, so I pulled out my gun and pulled the trigger, just as Mr. J did a giant, cartwheeling leap over the guy's head. I wished I could have stopped, but it was too late. I'd already fired...and now my angel was bleeding from his shoulder. I was, like, the worst girlfriend ever!
I burst into tears.
"HAAARLEY!" was the last thing I heard before I blacked out
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...
