(no subject)

Jan 07, 2009 01:51

I'm not really sure how many (if any at all) of you folk are interested in this. But just in case, I've written a little more. This will probably be the last I'll post of this Batman fic. It will forever be a work-in-progress. Alas.

Also, I am drunk.



"To, ha, morrow, and tomorrow, and, ah, bone marrow."

The Joker. You can just barely make him out, a crouched dusky shadow, head hanging, mottled green hair unkepted and thick with oil.

How did he move so quick? He must have sounded farther away than he was. A function of the Batcave's acoustics? Unpredicatable in its current state.

You hear him lick his lips.

"Creeps in this - pretty -" He looks up. His makeup is remarkably white. "FACE from day to day."

Macbeth. But he's taken several creative liberties. Does he know something you do not? Is this code?

The Joker tilts his head, rolls his eyes, and looks away. "You never could ah-ppreciate a performance."

You tense. "Are you reading my mind?" It seems like a logical question.

"Too bad Arkham is closed for - ha - renovations or else, um, you and me could have sharrred a cell," he says and scuttles closer to you like a spider.

Previous post Next post
Up