A Funny Loss

    Pamela smiled as she combed Harley's hair, listening closely to what she 
had been up to.  They had not seen each other in weeks but Harley's love for 
trouble (and her man) sent her back to Arkham.  Attempting to seduce a cop 
didn't improve her chances of escaping the asylum.  Kicking the cop where it 
hurts most definitely didn't help either.

    Finishing with her hair, Pamela smiled.  "All done."

    "Thanks, Red!" Harley shouted, throwing her arms around her with a hug.

    Pamela smiled, pulling herself out of Harley's super tight grip.  "Always 
glad to help a friend."

    Harley threw herself on the bed, a grin playing on her lips.  "Ya know, 
Mistah J would neva' comb my hair, but I'd kill just ta' hear him tell a 
joke."  Her grin slowly faded into a sad pout.

    Pamela rolled her eyes as she once again heard "Mistah J" play its way 
out of Harley's scarlet red lips.  "Mistah J?  Mister creep, you mean."

    "Ahhhh, come on Red," Harley said with a playful whine.  "Love is strong, 
ya know?  It's like you and your plants ... it's a great feeling of 
excitement."

    Pamela giggled a bit, turning her head away to the plants she watered.  
"It's not the same way, Harley girl.  For one thing, my babies would never 
give up on me.  The Joker just manipulates you for his own needs."

    "I know," Harley said, casting her eyes down on the metallic floor.  "But 
it's more powerful than that.  If it wasn't for Mistah J, I'd still be a 
bored and hard working slave of society."  Harley smiled as she laid her 
hands on the floor and started to walk on them.  "Mistah J taught me how to 
be my fun, lovable self!"

    Pamela shook her head as eyes rolled between her eyelashes again. "Mmm 
... one good quality out of all of his bad ones.  What about the fact that he 
let you get caught on your own?"

    Harley missed Pamela's words of advice, entering a trance as she 
reminisced on the utopia that was the clown prince of crime himself.  "It was 
all worth getting caught.  The brilliant schemes, the clever ideas ... 
everything.  Even when they backfire, it doesn't matter.  The whole act of 
crime is a staged show."  Looking away from the ceiling, she turned to look 
into Pamela's luscious pupils.  "He always foils his own plans on purpose, 
ya' know?  Just like that night.  He rounded up all the law jerks-Gordon, the 
mayor, even that Barbara brat-but her never intended to kill them.  Sure, he 
killed the cops that ignorantly tried to get in the way, but at least he let 
them go off with a smile.  I mean, come on, how many psycho maniacs do you 
see let people go off with a smile?  Sure, they start to stink faster with 
the green gas flowing from the back of their gums, but their smiles prove 
they were wiped out by an artist."

    "And they call me sick," Pamela joked as she crossed her legs and sat on 
the top bunk.

    "What else made it so great was when Mistah J started reading to his 
hostages.  It was quite entertaining.  Mistah J picked up some book under the 
name of Divine Comedy.  I don't think he had known the book was about some 
guy going to hell and all at the time.  That's why it was pretty nice to hear 
him tell it because he found the humor in it."

    "So what were the hostages for anyway?"

    "For Batman's attention," Harley said, dragging her voice as if saying 
"duh."  "It wasn't for any demands like money and such, just to see Batman 
again was Mistah J's benefit, which automatically made it mine as well.  We 
were just looking for some fun.  He's really good at stuff like that.  
Two-face would flip a coin before he decided anything.  The Riddler's idea of 
fun is a boring and complex puzzle no one cares about.  The Penguin is just 
... there.  But my puddin ... just pure genius."

    Noticing the story was going off track, Pamela motioned her hand in a 
circle.  "Go on..."

    "OK, OK!" Harley said with another trademark smile of hers.  "Well, 
anyway, Mistah J's henchmen Mo, Lar, and Cur were basically guarding the 
doors of our hideout, which was pretty much another abandoned warehouse.  
Puddin' was getting tired of reading since he was the only one laughing, so 
he threw the book at one of the hostages as they were all tied helplessly to 
their chairs with jumping rope.  We knew Batman had gotten word.  Everything 
was set up nicely.  Mistah J had fun taunting them with an unopened vile of 
his special laughing gas.  All I did was watch and laugh."

    "So when did Batman show up?"  

    "A few hours too soon," Harley said, pouting.  "And we were going to give 
Gordon his one last minute of laughter..." Harley pushed her head against her 
pillow.  "The clowns were completely whipped out by the Batman's punches... I 
remember Mo hitting the steel wall pretty hard.  The other two had Batman 
dodging bullets for a long time.  By the time Batman got his baterang and 
knocked the guns out of their hands, he was attacked by a splendid swing of 
Mistah J's crowbar."  Harley's eyes drifted musingly off into space.

    "Cheap shots ... sounds like Joker all right.  What happened next?"

    "What puddin did next would probably confuse most people.  He let the 
Batman get up after he got knocked out for a few seconds."

    "He what?"  Pamela said, thinking the whole story wasn't making any sense 
or leading anywhere.

    "Well, of course!"  Harley said, white teeth shining.  "He couldn't let 
Bats be defeated so quickly.  All he did was watch old Bats being kicked back 
and forth from one clown to another, throws and punches connecting to his 
stomach and skull.  I mean, it actually took Batman a long time to bleed.  He 
didn't even bleed that much except from his nose, but you could tell they 
really broke him down.  Then," Harley said, sighing as she prepared for the 
turning point, "he got this big burst of energy from nowhere and kicked Lar 
into the railing.  Following that, he swept a row of barrels with a low kick, 
sending them to the remaining two.  After they feel to the ground, he started 
stomping his foot on them, in this psychotic frenzy. They were done for 
pretty quick."

    "Hard to find good help these days, eh Harl?"

    "Yeah," Harley answered back with a meek voice.  "Mistah J stepped back 
as I went in and fought Bats off.  It's so hard because I have to stay 
comical in everything I do, boss's orders.  So I'm standing here swinging a 
plunger at Bats and also trying to trip him with marbles.  Instead of me even 
reaching him, I get thrown to the floor.  To make it even worse," Harley 
starts to raise her voice higher, "Mistah J pulls out a machine gun and 
starts shooting rapidly in our direction!  I'm dodging bullets as marbles 
roll around and almost trip in the wildfire!  Luckily, he ran out of bullets. 
 Then he pushes me off the side of the railing and runs off.  Bats could have 
ran off after him.  He could have finally brought puddin' back to Arkham, but 
he saved me instead."  Sighing, Harley looked outside of the cell's bars.  
"Then, I lost my freedom, and my puddin,' again."  Her eyes filled with 
sorrow as she grabbed a bar and looked into thin space.

    "Awwww, Harl, you can't go on like this."  Pamela said, calmly as she 
placed a hand on Harley's shoulder.  "Life can go on, you know?  Even without 
this Joker creep.  I mean, he left you out there to fend on your own!"

    "I know," Harley said, shrugging.  "I can't help it ... it's just love."

    Throwing her hands in the air, Pamela laid on her bed confused.  Harley 
just stood by the bars, her blue eyes silently whispering deep wishes.

    An unexpected and loud laugh came from down the dark hallway without 
stopping.  Two asylum guards escorted a hysterical Joker down to his new 
cell. Trying to pull out of his straight jacket, he stopped to take a look at 
Harley, licking his lips in a sensual sort of way.  Harley watched in 
amusement as they dragged the Joker down into the darkness at the other end 
of the hall.

    Pamela didn't bother to lift her head from her pillow as the laughing 
died into silence.  She could already imagine Harley forgetting the words of 
advice given to her, walking from the bars with her hand over her heart in a 
trance.  She could also imagine Harley collapsing to the floor when her 
forehead accidentally hit the top of the bunkbed as well.