i'm so sane it's driving me crazy{Tag: Penguin}

[Yvette]

“I assure you, sir. It’s a lemon drop."

Joker spoke lazily, taking up most of one of the Recreational Room’s couches. He was sprawled on his back, hands folded and clasped neatly on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. The boring, white, plain ceiling. Maybe at lunchtime he could smuggle some meat sauce from the spaghetti back in here, and decorate? It was an interesting concept.

But he looked over at the man he’d been speaking to: another inmate. Unlike the crazies like him who ran around Gotham in costumes, this man was truly insane. A spitting, blathering pile who wasn’t good for anything but eating, making incoherent noises, and relieving themselves.

Kind of like Bud and Lou…

Joker’s mind began to wander, as it so often did.

Now, he loved the pets. They were hyenas. How could he not love their grins, or giggles? But they were Harley’s pets, all the same. Joker didn’t want to be bothered with them. Truth be told, if Harley left the “babies” to him for a week, he’d probably forget to feed them.

Feeding! That reminded him. Joker grinned at the man wearing the same outfit as him (oh, what a horrid fashion faux pas! …Not that these orange outfits weren’t, to begin with…) and tilted his head. The man seemed to be mulling over Joker’s words for a moment. But after what Joker would only choose to take as careful consideration, the man stuck the rook into his mouth, the felt bottom of the chess piece sticking out as he sucked on the cheap plastic. He tried moving it to the corner of his mouth with his tongue, as he would with an actual lemon drop, so that he could speak, “Gee, fanks!” His spit oozed from his mouth as it struggled to break down a food that wasn’t really food.

Joker blinked, as he honestly hadn’t been expecting the man to listen to him. His eyes fell to the chess board, then back up to the rook between his temporary companion’s lips. As per usual, this sent the green-haired one into a mad detonation of wild laughter, sitting up so that he could better tilt his head back and gripping his stomach so that it wouldn’t hurt nearly as much.

“Lemon drop!” he howled. He’d have to keep that one in mind.

It was when the man began to choke that the guards noticed.

Joker’s laugh turned more vicious as the man went into a gagging fit, and he pointed a white finger in taunting. The man’s face was turning colours, now. He wondered if it was like one of those fiber-optic Christmas trees: wait long enough, and it would change just about every colour. Maybe he’d flash rainbow, too! Joker intended to stay and find out.

The guards didn’t have such plans. They hurried over and helped the man, one of them escorting him from the Rec Room and the other giving Joker what he could only assume was some sort of a lecture. He didn’t listen to a single word, choosing instead to focus on a piece of fuzz he’d pulled from the couch. The guard raised his voice. Joker ignored him more. With a puff of air, Joker sent the fuzz floating from his fingertip countless times. Floating like a snowflake. It was only when he realized that it was actually the remains of a dead spider did he break into laughter again, making the guard give up.

Who said Arkham wasn’t fun?

[Banzaar]

“Unhand me you brute! This is a mistake! Wait till you hear from my lawyer!!”

The loud, raucous squawk cut through the grimy halls of Arkham. The owner of the screeching voice was none other than Oswald Cobblepot. He looked rather worse for wear. His top hat was missing; his tuxedo was disheveled and torn. One of his eyes sported a tender looking bruise. On the other side of his face, a slight tinge of purple on his cheekbone suggested another hit to the face, but at least it hadn’t made contact with his monocle.

Last thing Cobblepot could remember was trying to fend off the bat from ruining yet another of his schemes. He’d been doing pretty well at that, until one of the batbrats must have clipped him from behind. He’d blacked out. Next thing he knew, he was trussed up on the steps to Arkham. Batman had to be playing him. He wasn’t crazy, and Batman knew he wasn’t crazy. So… why the hell was he here?!

At this point, he appeared to be having difficulty with his escorts – two burly looking men with rather exasperated expressions on their faces. As he tried to struggle out of their grasp, one of the men clamped down on his shoulder - hard, exasperation quickly molding into frustrated impatience. “Stop squirming you crazy bird-“

Clearly, that was the wrong thing for the guard to say. “I. Am. Not. Crazy!” Cobblepot’s eyes had become so livid that the two men looked at each other over Penguin’s head with twin expressions of uncertainty. Steering the rotund bird down the dank corridors, they passed a few doors, one of which appeared to be some sort of recreation room. Oswald wasn’t paying attention to any of this. After all, he wouldn’t have to. He wasn’t going to be there long, no he was not.

[Yvette]

Joker had watched the scolding guard storm off to deal with someone else, and he picked up the spider remains on his finger again, still giggling that he had thought it was a piece of dust. His tongue sticking out in overexaggurated, mock concentration, Joker flicked it toward some other Arkham inhabitant. This widened Joker's grin, if it was possible.

A familiar voice made him stop. Although he didn't really want to get up from the uncomfortable couch, Joker forced himself to sit upright. For a few moments, he just listened. Yes, he knew that screech.

But what was that screech doing in Arkham? Moving to the door, he peeked out the small window in it. If his grin had widened before, it was breaking his face now.

"Looks like one flew over the cuckoos nest!" Joker taunted, although the passing Penguin probably couldn't hear him through the glass. He erupted into laughter, tossing his head back. His hands rested on either side of the window, and he pressed his face against the glass to see better. Poor Cobble-y-pot looked a bit worse for wear. Into the proverbial sea lion's den, it looked like, for the bird brain!

Removing his face from the glass, he knocked against it in an attempt to get the guards attention, or Ozzie's. He didn't care which. Waiting for them to turn around, he had to force away his laughter so that he could successfully make a face. Sticking his fingers in his mouth, he pulled down his lower lip and crossed his eyes, knowing the "crazy" gesture would only further infuriate Penguin.

[Banzaar]

Oswald Cobblepot inhaled so sharply that it was clear he was going to start bellowing yet again. Sensing the new bout of tension building inside their captive, the two guards tightened their hold on him. Their attempts were forgotten, however, when a sharp rapping met the guard’s ears.

They jerked around with Penguin in tow almost instantly, expecting the worst. What met their eyes was considerably less worrisome than what their imaginations had jumped to. Well, nobody had escaped and snuck up on them, that is.

Unfortunately, for Oswald Cobblepot, it was a different matter entirely. The pent up air he’d been reserving for a steady bout of protests deflated out of him at the sight of Joker. Any amount of anger that had contorted his bruised face earlier was replaced immediately with that of mortification.

Oh god, anything but him!

Penguin was probably dumbstruck for about five seconds before he found his voice again. “Wh- why is he here?!” If his hands hadn’t been handcuffed behind his back, he would have been pointing one accusing claw in the clown’s direction. The Joker was always escaping Arkham. For once, Cobblepot would have had no qualms about such an uproar. It would mean the maniac wouldn’t be here, making ridiculous faces at Oswald when the bird was suffering severe humiliation. The restraints on him were having its toll on Cobblepot. Temper was building to a broiling point, with no way of him effectively letting it go.

[Yvette]

Ah, there.

That was it.

Pay attention to him.

Joker pulled his fingers from his mouth to grin, before putting his face against the glass, smushing his face flat. He puffed out his cheeks. He always found this sort of antic funny, but even more so because of who it was directed at. He pulled away and cupped his hands over his mouth. Maybe by putting it against the glass, then, it'd make it so Pengy could hear him? Even a little?

"Thought you went to Blackgate?!" Joker shouted, making many people in the Rec Room turn his way. The guards debated going to pluck him from the glass, but he wasn't hurting anyone. He wasn't doing anything wrong. For once...
He continued his torments, "You've gone bonkers, then, Penguin?" He was hurting his own ears a little, so he hoped they could hear him. He let out a huff of air, for no apparent reason. Joker put his fists on his hips and then realized that maybe he could hear what they were saying. The clown put his ear against the door.

[Banzaar]

Penguin flinched as Joker’s voice, although muffled, met his ears. What he really wanted to do was turn tail and flee from the dark musty corridors of Arkham and this maniac’s grinning face. He was a respectable businessman, this couldn’t be happening to him.

This couldn’t be happening to him. Of course! He was having a dream. A nightmare. Or maybe perhaps it hadn’t been a batbrat after all but the Scarecrow that had knocked him out. That was it. Surely that was it. Not that going to Arkham was a fear of his, just an inconvenience. Surely if this got out, it would ruin the Cobblepot name.

Oswald had just about convinced himself that none of this was actually happening, when Joker’s taunts began to sink in. As soon as the word ‘bonkers’ was out of Joker’s grinning mouth, Penguin’s eyes flashed dangerously. He jerked forward, lips twisting into a snarl, “I’ll show you bonkers, you miserable miscreant!” Growling in a quite improper manner, he found himself unable to get any closer thanks to one of the guards grabbing him from behind by his arm.

Seething, he gave Joker the foulest glare he could muster, “This is all a complete misunderstanding. My lawyers should be here any moment now.” Well, maybe that was a lie. He hadn’t been allowed so much as a phone call. What the hell happened to his rights?

ooc: faaaaaail

[Yvette]

He wasn't really able to hear Oswald very well through the glass, but seeing his expressions was just too much. The short, fat man growling with anger, from the way his face was contorted. Joker clenched his jaw in a wide grin before bursting out laughing again.

He'd been planning on getting out of here, rather soon, but maybe he would stay a bit longer? Penguin was thoroughly entertaining him, and they hadn't even really talked yet! He pulled away from the door and clutched his stomach in laughter. A few feet from him, another one of the inmates began to laugh, obviously left out and not understanding what was so funny. Joker's face fell, and the man howled louder, slapping his knee even. "Shut up..." The clown muttered, and the man obeyed, falling meek and quiet. There. Now that the laugh was his, and his alone, again, he turned back to the peephole.

Tired of shouting, Joker tried an old trick again. He put his face against the glass and blew outward, until his cheeks puffed up against it. He lowered his eyebrows in a deathglare, brought up his shoulders to give himself less of a neck, and ta-daa. Penguin impression.

[Banzaar]

So far, Oswald had been able to (just barely) retain his anger from reaching the point of hysterics; until Joker began to make an impression of him. For a moment, he stared at Joker, his rage simmering just below the surface. But as it dawned on him just what Joker’s intent was, all control on his fury was lost. Letting out an unintelligible growl of rage, he wrenched free from the guards and leaped upon the Joker.

Or tried to.

He seemed to ignore the fact that the glass panel was there; instead banging his fist against the window as though this would truly affect the clown. Or at least knock some sense into the man by temporarily scaring him off – thus ending the rude imitation.

Naturally, the guards didn’t agree with this at all. In mid-pound, Oswald found himself suddenly walloped in the back of his knees. Inevitably, Cobblepot lost his stance, letting out a small protest of pain as he slid to the floor.

[Yvette]

The Penguin's hopes were right. In alarm, or on instinct, or simply because he didn't want that fist coming at his face, Joker pulled away from the glass. He blinked a few moments.

Since when was the Penguin magic?

One moment he was there, and the next seccond he wasn't. This actually threw Joker off a little. He moved back to the glass and searched about as best he could. Many of the innmates were staring at him, and once again the guards were considering plucking him away from the glass now that a blow had been thrown.

Ah. There he was... The little fatty... He looked quite amusing, rolling about on the ground. Joker wondered if he'd be able to get up again. Penguins weren't like turtles, though.... Turtles actually had necks. As expected, Joker began laughing once again. He hadn't laughed this hard since...

Well, not that long.

Since the retard kind, respectable innmate had choked on the chess piece.

[Banzaar]

Before Oswald had been able to recover fully, he felt himself being hauled up by the very guard’s that had made him lose his balance in the first place. By this point, he didn’t know who he was more pissed at: the guards or Joker.

His glare landed on the clown, who was once again laughing his head off. Typical. “When I get my hands on you, Joker…” Cobblepot growled, mainly as a promise to himself. The clown wouldn’t have heard him anyway, laughing his stupid self into hysterics.

“You’re looking to get yourself in solitary before we’ve even shown you your cell,” The guard to his right warned, “So I wouldn’t think about it.”

Cobblepot ignored the remark, sending another swift glare in the Joker’s direction. “Oh by all means, let me in that room and I shall promptly send him my apologies.”By the way he spoke the word, it didn’t sound like he had the same definition for it as the dictionary would.

With a shake of their heads, the guards started taking him away. Cobblepot’s head craned around to hold his evil gaze on Joker. After a moment though, he realized that he was going about this all wrong. The clown didn’t deserve his attention; in fact, he was most likely just feeding the man’s ego. So instead, he looked forward to the hall ahead of him. His gait, although shuffled along, practically screamed one who was attempting for dignity but was too pissed off to truly accomplish it.

[Yvette]

"Waddle off, fat boy!"

Joker cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the door. He pressed his face against it, once again, in a grin. He didn't even mind that his teeth were against the glass.

The guards, however, decided this was quite enough of the Joker's antics. "Huh?" His arms were grabbed roughly from behind, and he was pulled away from the door.

"Alright, that's enough." The guard snapped. Joker put on a pout that would no doubt fail. Pouting just didn't work on grown men.

Let alone grown men with bleached skin and green hair, in an insane asylum's unform.

[Banzaar]

Oswald was absolutely aggravated at the lack of service here. He’d demanded, countless times, to speak with the leader of this awful institution- Jeremiah Arkham. And countless times, he’d been turned down with a laugh. That and he hadn’t even been allowed his phone call yet. What sort of place was this?! If he ever saw that Batman again, there would be hell to pay.
He wanted out.

He needed out.

When the guards returned from letting him ‘cool off’ in his cell, they unceremoniously hustled him out. Cobblepot heard mention of food, but was appalled. They certainly didn’t mean he was going to dine with a bunch of lunatics did they?

They did.

Penguin’s disgusted gaze swept the shabby interior of the ‘eating hall’. Many of the inhabitants were drooling over their trays or smearing food across their faces like defiant two year olds. He kept a distance from them, chubby arms crossed.

He wore the necessary orange uniform now, but that wasn’t to say he’d changed willingly. It was after much convincing from rather brutal guards that he’d finally relented. Tugging in annoyance at the collar of his shirt, he stepped swiftly aside as one inmate almost bumbled into him, letting out a snarl. “Do you mind?!”

Apparently not, for the inmate just gave him an obnoxiously doofy smile and trundled forth to gather food.

One clawed hand rubbed his forehead in exasperation with a moan.

He had to get out of here.

[Yvette]

Art was expressive.

It could serve as a creative outlet, and it could present emotions in a healthy manner. It was beautiful, and it was always original. It was beauty in the eye of it's beret-ed, wine-sniffin' beholder. Art was creation, and destruction.

It also tasted damn good with gravy.

His tongue out in concentration, Joker hunched over to be at eye level with his masterpiece. Running his fork up the sides of his mashed potatoes, he had created a sort of fortress with them. It was actually doing a rather fine job of entertaining the clown, without putting anyone else in danger... For now... There could always be a molten gravy eruption from Mount Spuds. You never knew when that thing was going to blow. His jaw was tight as he put the finishing touches on it. At the moment, the food wasn't a volcano, but a building. He used the fork to carve out a window, pulling some of the potato away, and put it into his mouth. The fork dangled there as Joker pondered what else he needed to add to it.

With a grin, the fork was held between his teeth as his white hands grabbed an overcooked piece of broccoli. Plopping it onto his tray in front of the white home, he had successfully created a bush. Draining the juice from his Salisbury meat-by-products, he created a pathway from front of the house. There. One big, happy, edible family.

The green-haired man looked up from his art and grinned. Ooh, boy! A bird was flapping about the rafters of his Asylum! Joker stood up, within earshot of the Penguin,

"Well, it's no gourmet chef, but whaddya think of the food here, Ozzie?"