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The Joker's Plot

Updated: Jun 24, 2022

Living in Gotham City isn’t all that it’s cut out to be. Most of us just try to get through our day without getting run over by the Batmobile and avoiding the wrath of the Joker. Some of us manage to live fairly normal lives without attracting any attention from those who wish us harm, however, I was not so lucky.

It’s fairly normal to have the Joker show up and rob the store while you’re in it. For most of us, we don’t even get fazed anymore. However, I had made the unfortunate decision of buying the last pack of Oreos that day. Little did I know, those were his favorite food and when he found out I was the reason he would be Oreo deprived, he made it his mission to make sure I was never safe again. I even begged Batman to let me live with him for a while until the Joker moved on to some other poor soul, but he refused and told me never to contact him again unless I had caught the Joker.

Feeling, defeated I headed home, constantly looking over my shoulder. You never know when he will strike, and when he does he’s ruthless. I even offered him the Oreos, but that made it worse since he couldn’t steal them from the store. Today I approached my front door and made sure to check my security alarm hadn’t gone off.

When I locked the door behind me I made sure everything was in its proper place to make sure no one had broken in. I relaxed a bit and went to take a shower.

After a while, my doorbell rang and I tensed. He wasn’t known to ring the bell but still…I looked through the peephole and saw Rob, my mailman. I opened the door.

“Hey, Whitney! I have a rather large package for you today, what did you order? It’s really light.”

“I didn’t order anything. Are you sure it’s for me?”

“Yup says your name right here.” He handed me the package and I signed for it.

I closed the door and put the box on the floor, my cat Misty approached me and sniffed the box curiously.

Suddenly my phone rang and I carefully answered. I breathed a sigh of relief when it was just my sister, “You won’t believe what I just got in the mail.” I explained the strange box and she was just as confused as me. She invited me to dinner next week and I agreed before hanging up.

“Yeah, I’m confused too,” I muttered to Misty. Carefully I lifted the box flaps and was met with a lot of tissue paper. My confusion grew as I dug through the paper, eventually, my hand met something solid, I grabbed its handle and lifted out a plastic mirror.

Confused I held up the mirror and looked into it.

The sound of broken glass scared Misty away. I had dropped the mirror. What I saw in it terrified me. I felt the color drain from my face as I turned around, shaking.

“Why so serious?” Joker’s face loomed over me smiling, “Did you like my present?”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak, all I could do was attempt to escape. The Joker paced my living room in contemplation, “Whatever shall we do with you, Whitney? I mean honestly, so naive. So stupid. So…selfish.” He looked at me with a sneer before turning around for what I guess was dramatic effect. I took the opportunity to slowly crawl towards the door, never letting my back turn to him.

I had just reached the door when my shoe gave a squeak on the wood. I froze, hoping he didn’t hear, however his stiff stance told me otherwise. He didn’t turn around though, just looked out the window. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave.” With that, he turned and began to walk towards me, “If you won’t behave I guess I’ll just have to take you somewhere where I have the advantage.” I clenched my eyes, preparing for the worst. But all I felt was a hand on my arm and the feeling of being dragged. I attempted to stand, but kept stumbling as he pulled me out the door.


“Not a word. Unless you want to be roadkill I highly suggest you stay silent.” He opened the trunk of a bright purple and green convertible.


“Uh- what did I just say?”

“Don’t tal-”

“Really? Again? I just told you to shut up? Ugh, so disappointing Whitney, honestly.” In a blur of motion, he shoved me in the trunk and I could see him roll his eyes as he closed the door. I began to scream, but the roar of the engine drowned me out.

I don’t know for how long we drove. I attempted to kick out the rear lights, but all I did was hurt my foot. I tried to open the trunk from the inside, but of course no luck. Eventually, the car stopped and the engine quieted. I heard the door slam and footsteps making their way to the trunk. The shadows were not doing a great job of hiding me, but nevertheless, I attempted to scoot farther away from the door.

The steps stopped in front of the trunk, but the door didn’t open. Instead, he began to knock on the car, “Hello? Anyone in there?’ His laugh seemed to echo inside the compartment and I froze. I heard a click and the light of the sun blinded me as the door opened.

“Wh-” I began to speak, but the building behind him made me think otherwise.

“Do you like it? I had it built as a hideout. Somewhere that imbecile Batman would never find.” He said the name with such disgust I cringed.

I climbed out of the car and was not surprised when he quickly bound my hands in rope. Trying not to focus on my probably lethal situation, I chose to focus on the house in front of me. The pink and blue cottage was definitely not where I’d expect to find the Joker living.

He tugged on my arm roughly and I was once again dragged away. At least this time I could keep my footing as I was tugged through the doorway.

The inside looked a lot more like the style you’d expect. A sickening amount of green and purple with the occasional white highlight. Joker pulled me through what appeared to be a kitchen (it was very messy) and down some stairs to the basement.

“Why am I here?” the question seemed stupid, but nevertheless remained unanswered up to this point.

“You, dear Whitney, are the reason I’m finally gonna defeat Batman. No one can resist a good ol’ damsel in distress, especially not Batman. And once I spread the word of your capture, Batman will have no choice, but to come rescue you and when he does I’ll finally have the upper hand,” he laughed and turned to look at me.

“What if he doesn’t?” The flickering lights of the basement only made him more terrifying. “That is when you’ll wish you’d never heard of an Oreo.” He laughed again and pulled me down the stairs.

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