I ain't no stranger to partying. And I don't mean your average idea of drinking a little too much, partying. I'm talking the kind of partying where you wake up with no clue of how the fuck you got there. The 'did I drive last night' kind. Picking up a morning paper and wondering if you were part of the crime displayed on the cover, kind. And I guess I know that kind of partying because I've partied with the Joker. Cause it takes a whole lot to fuck him up, and rolling with him definitely builds up your tolerance.
It ain't that I got a problem, I can do just fine without, and I know that. But to be honest, with the life I lead, a man needs ways to decompress. To relax. Sometimes a chick with big tits and a nice ass works to fuck away the agression. But sometimes I see and take part in shit that calls for harder decompression. You stand in a shower washing bits and pieces of someone else's brains out of your hair, and tell me you won't welcome a strong high. You know, something strong enough to make something as fucked up as that not matter.
So yeah, I've been pretty twisted a number of times. It started back in the early days, back when Mr. J first became the Joker. The man could go and go and go for days. He'd stay up so long that he'd stop making any sense whatsoever. Johnny decided that we should get him fucked up so he'd go to sleep. Well no matter what you think you know about the Joker, he don't too much like getting fucked up alone. So somehow I got the role of his drinking/drug buddy. But he'd better not catch me fucking slipping on the job. And if you don't already know, when you work for Mr. J, as his second in command henchmen, you're always on the clock. Duty is engrained into me, because I'm never off it.
So when I woke up a moment minute ago with a splitting headache trying to massage it away,
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I can't help but ask myself if I got fucked up last night. I know I didn't. I knew this mornings hangover wasn't my fault. That's when I notice a dart lying in the bed with me. Shit. Somebody fucking drugged me. Which means I was slipping on the fucking job! Unacceptable! Fuck what awaits me on the other side of that door!?
I quickly get out of the bed, and pull on my jacket because for some reason it's fucking freezing in here. My eyes scan the room for odd shit. Cause that's what I've been trained to do in my line of work. To cover my tracks and all the Joker's tracks. And Mr. J is one meticulous motherfucker who taught me how to be just as detailed. He literally taught me how to get away with murder. And yeah, I know it's wrong, but this is the life I chose. Cause at the end of the day, I owe my entire life to Mr. J. If I'd never hooked up with Jack Napier, I'd probably be dead by now. If by some miracle I wasn't, you can bet your ass I'd be a broke fucker.
The only thing out of place was the dart that had drugged me. Which means the main attraction was outside this room. And again I mentally beat the shit out of myself for sleeping on the job. I have one standing order. Keep Jester safe. That had been my orders since Mr. J assigned me to him. Yeah, I take orders from Mr. Jester. Yeah, he is my boss too. But Mr. J's orders would always trump Mr. Jester's. And I was in direct violation of those orders.
