Not A Pretty Word, Is It, Batman?

“Commissioner Gordon.”

“Evening, Bruce!”

“Let’s keep it formal, if you don’t mind.”

“Er, all right. What brings you around, Br…Batman?”

“It’s the Joker.”

“Terrible business. Any clues yet?”

“Oh, I’ve already caught him. He’s locked down back at the Batcave.”

“Oh! Excellent. That’s good news. I expect we’ll have him back in Arkham in no time, once you hand him over, then.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Eh?”

“I think I’m going to keep him.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Frankly, Commissioner, I just don’t trust the justice system in this city anymore. I knew I’d have trouble, this being a pretty liberal New England state and all, but to tell you the truth, I’m starting to feel…well…used.”

“I…I don’t think I understand.”

“Do you know how many times the Joker has busted out of Arkham in the last five years, Jim?”

“Oh, it’s — I mean, a few, but I don’t think it can be more than, say, seven?”

Sixty-four times.”

“No. Really?”

“Out of a maximum security insane asylum. Manson has never even tried to get out, but the Joker has escaped an average of once a month for half a decade.”

“Well, I mean, I’ll admit that I’d prefer to see him rotting in solitary at the pen, but he’s certainly not…”

“Jim, he’s broken out of jail almost as many times. And that’s when he hasn’t been paroled. The guy has killed, like, nine hundred people, and they keep granting him parole.”

“I don’t pick the parole board, Bruce. If it was up to me…”

“Sure, if it was up to you. Doesn’t this damn state have a death penalty? If anyone deserves it, it’s that asshole. I mean, seriously. He’s notched up close to seventy-five murders just in prison guards and hospital orderlies.”

“Batman, surely you’re not thinking of…”

“No, no. I’m not going to kill him. I just figure, Christ, I can’t do a worse job of keeping him under wraps than you people. No offense, Jim, but you’re guarding him like a goddamn Swede. I’m surprised I don’t find the police master key on his belt every time I bring him in.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I mean, do you not think I have enough to do? It’s not like I’m on salary or something. This gig costs me money. You don’t have to go around finding me busywork.”

“It’s not like that, Bruce, I promise you.”

“Well, anyway, I just wanted to give you fair warning. The way I see it, I can lock him in my broom closet and he’ll have a harder time getting out than he does at Arkham. You can send someone to see him if you want.”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s all just fine.”

“All right. I gotta go. I have to pick him up some Lunatic Chow or something on the way home.”

“Actually, do you have a minute?”

“Why?  What’s up?”

“It’s about Killer Croc.”

“Come on.”

One Comment

  1. Ha! “I mean, what does he have to do Gordon? Shoot your daughter at point blank range in the spine, take lewd photos of her, kidnap you, drug you, strip you of your clothes and put a collar on you; have circus midgets taunt you while you while the enlarged photos are…. oh, Gordon.”

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