The Joker's New Toy { Wattys 2016}

It Only Takes One Bad Day

Ok this is a rather long background. And remember, the Joker never remembers his past the same way, so if you don't like this background, you can think of it as him remembering it this way in his head. Anyway, once again I am half asleep, so this probably came out crappily and it probably has tons of mistakes. I will have a better reader check it shortly. But for now this is all i got LOL. Once again please read and review, and Thank you thank you thank you to all my readers! You don't know how much I really appreciate it and it really does motivate me to write more. So THANK YOU! And I hope you enjoy!

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"Welcome son. I hope for your sake, that you knock em dead." The short older and overweight manager greeted Jack as he showed up to perform. "Or you may be the one knocked dead with this crowd." He looked Jack up and down, while puffing on a large Cuban cigar. He gave him a funny look. "Where'dya get that suit?"

Jack looked down at the chubby little manager. "Well. I figured if I wanted to be treated as a professional I'd have to dress like one."

The manager raised a thick eyebrow. "Kid. You dress like that around here and you're just asking to get jumped. I'd watch my back if I were you. Purple isn't really the color of choice around these parts."

The small smile that Jack had before was now wiped off of his face. "I kinda like this color actually," he said with an air of innocence. "And it's still a masculine color. It's not like it's pink."

The manager gave him one more odd look and shook his head. "Your funeral."

The Mad Hatter's Comedy and Magic Club was small and modest. It was a cramped little hole in the wall place with a group of tables in the middle, and a bar off to the side. The minuscule stage was the main attraction of the club, where aspiring artists poured their souls out in front of a group of drunken strangers with dying hopes that a talent scout just happened to stop by while they were performing.

Jack had butterflies in his stomach, despite the fact that the audience was small. They were a small crowd but a rough crowd. He was waiting backstage as a singer was on before him. Jack watched the unfortunate man on stage, singing and strumming his guitar as the audience booed him and threw half eaten bar food and empty beer bottles at him. The man was a comedic singer, and was attempting to do humorous songs, but it appeared as though the audience didn't find them very funny.

When the poor man was half way through a song, a drunken frat boy in the audience stood up and chucked his beer bottle right at the singer's head. The bottle struck him right in the eye, putting an abrupt end to his song. Fortunately the bottle didn't shatter. He wailed and nearly stumbled over, holding onto his eye. Drunken laughter erupted from the crowd.

Jack felt sick. "Okay. Now they're crossing the line. Croc!" the manager yelled.

A very large man with horribly bad skin walked over to the manager. "You want me to take him out boss?"

"Yeah get that punk outta here. But please. Try not to send anyone to the hospital again. I've got enough lawsuits on my ass."

"Sure thing boss," Said Croc and he immediately went out to the audience and approached the drunken rowdy frat boy.

Jack peeked out from behind the curtain to see Croc talking to the laughing troublemaker. "Mr. Torlini wants me to take out the trash." Croc glared down at the troublemaker.

The young man merely looked up at Croc, a big intoxicated grin on his face, and he laughed mockingly. "Oh my god, it's the 'Thing' from fantastic four." He turned to his drunken friends for approval who laughed along with him. "Where's your fruity friends guy?" more mock laughter.