The Jester's Court

Chapter 4: Batman Hell

I vaguely remember throwin' a punch and startin' a fight after that damned mime-in-the-woodchipper joke, but the rest of it is blank from then on. I could totally see me fightin' about it; my favorite uncle was a mime in his day. No lie. He was pretty good at it, too.

Sober, of course, I'd not have taken offense. But it was my guess it was just the last straw in an evenin' full of shit that, when fueled by cheap beer and none-too-few whiskeys, grated on my nerves just enough. I wondered who I threw the first punch at. I also wondered if they'd report me and have Internal Affairs make a visit. Probably not. No one likes Internal Affairs.

I woke up really late on Saturday. Like, almost noon. I don't sleep that late, ever. And, I woke up on the couch... again. Lately, I'd apparently been sleepwalkin' or somethin' because I'd go to sleep in my own bed, but then wake up on the couch. The weird thing was that I never remembered gettin' up, much less settlin' onto the couch. I was just really tired the next day.

That mornin', I thought maybe I was comin' down with somethin', especially given how achy my body was when I went to go pee— which is what woke me up to begin with. I wondered how much longer I'd have slept if I hadn't. Regardless, I was sore in my arms, neck, back, thighs, all the big muscle groups. It was just downright weird. I could only explain why my hands hurt. Punching somebody causes damage.

After I used the bathroom, I shuffled to the kitchen and drank copious amounts of water and popped a couple of aspirin. Oddly enough, my head didn't hurt that bad, it as just more fuzzy than usual. I don't often black out like that when I drank, but I sure as shit did this time. Come to think about it, I had the last several times that I drank. I wonder if this is gettin' to be a problem.

I made my way to the neighborhood cleaners for the tie swap. Even Mildred, the owner's wife behind the cash register, commented on how poorly I was lookin'.

"Yeah, I think I'm gettin' sick," I said.

"You need to get that wife of yours to make you some homemade chicken soup!" Mildred proclaimed. "None of that canned stuff."

I laughed and said, "I think she'd rather poison me at the moment."

"Oh, you!" Mildred said, thinkin' I was jokin'.

I was only partially jokin'. I didn't think Sue wanted to kill me, literally, but I'm bettin' the thought had rolled through her mind a time or two. Especially since I was supposed to meet her that mornin' for breakfast to "talk".

Damn! I missed breakfast.

I whipped out my phone and gave her a call.

Oh, yeah, she was really mad. She let it go to voicemail. Normally, she had no problem answerin' and tellin' me how badly my shit stank. She only got quiet when she was well and truly pissed.

"Um, yeah, so I know I missed breakfast. I'm so sorry. I didn't wake up until noon and I think I'm gettin' sick. Can we reschedule?" I asked nicely. Never hurt to be nice when you were in trouble.

I knew it was lame, but it was only a partial lie, right? It was worth a shot, I figured.

I decided to get breakfast, or, rather lunch, and walked over to my favorite sports bar. I hadn't been sittin' for more than five minutes when the game I was watchin' was interrupted by the news.

"What the...?" I asked as Ms. Rodriguez showed up, complete with a picture of the Jester in the corner of the screen.

She was on Second and Madison on the other side of town. The intersection behind her was completely shut down, with cars literally parked in the road and people out millin' around them waitin' on somethin' to be done. Why? Because in the center of it all was a car tilted at a very odd angle, with a Jester's hat hangin' from the antenna.

Ms. Rodriguez began to very seriously explain what was goin' down, while footage of the Jester at work played in the background.

The Jester skipped into the intersection and onto camera at about 2:15AM. He waved at the traffic cam happily before he used his well decorated pry bar to leverage up the manhole cover from the center of the road.

Let me tell you, those things aren't light; they're like 250 pounds. Not even kiddin'. So, to see this fat guy in spandex manhandle the manhole cover was... somethin'.

We could see him strainin' his legs, arms, and back to get the thing upright. Then, he rolled it on its edge to some place off camera, strugglin' as he did. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of noise he was makin', but traffic cams didn't record sound.

Soon, we saw a car, a Honda by the looks of it, slowly drivin' up to the hole. Man, it's a good thing it was goin' slow because that tire sure did drop into that openin'. Once the car was good and stuck, we watched the Jester jump out and hang an extra Jester hat from the antenna, wave, and run off.

Another prank. And, it was obvious he intended it to be just a prank. An annoyin', interruptive joke, but nothin' too serious; he'd picked an intersection that wasn't much used in the wee hours of a Saturday mornin', what with it bein' in the business district and all. Then, he'd been as careful as he could in placin' the car. And, given where the car was located, it was unlikely that someone payin' attention would hit it.

Apparently, that's what had happened; people had paid attention, driven right up to the car, and had then been trapped in place by the cars behind them. Instant gridlock, but no one hurt.

Only, he had made one mistake; he'd stolen a car. If we could find him, we had him.

Just then, my phone rang. I jumped and dug it out of my pocket, expectin' it to be Sue, but, nope, it was Danny.

"Aw man, you didn't have to call and check on me," I said. It was nice of him, especially after they'd brought me home.

"Shit. Don't get your tie in a knot, dude," Danny said, his voice serious.

"What do you mean?"

"Brass needs you to come in."

"Yeah, I just saw the Jester on TV. I'll head home and grab the car and be there as soon as possible."

"No can do, partner."

"What? No, I'm totally sober, honest. I'm good to drive."

"No, that's not what I meant. You can't drive because the car in the manhole? That's your Honda."

"What?"

"That car that the Jester put into the sewer opening after taking the cover off? We ran the plates. That's your car, man."

Fuck me now. "Ah shit. The Jester pranked me? This is like some screwed up Joker thing and I'm a very poor Bruce Wayne. I am in Batman Hell."