Live! One Am At The Phaeton!

[makeemlaugh]

The Phaeton is one of the oldest, most famous comedy clubs in Gotham, a traditional place for hot young comics to cut their teeth. Its brass facade is broadcast throughout the country on the “One AM at the Phaeton” program, but the best comedy, aficionados say, is when the cameras are off. Its purer.

A set's just finished, and the lights dim. No one notices men in coats ease towards the exits, or anything threatening about the thin shape making its way to the stage. The MC reads his placard, “Wasn't she great folks? Loved the joke about the...well, all of them! Next up is a special guest, an old favorite under the name...E. Kelley?”

The lights go on. The clown smiles.

“Holy cats its the Joker!” A man in the audience shouts.

“Where?!” Joker turns around, shocked, and before the screams start he holds up a hand. Its Gotham, people know how to avoid sudden death by explosion. “Listen, listen, listen. I'm flattered, really, but I'm not here for WORK. There are, naturally, ah heh, precautions...I can't resist a captive audience...but, well. Sigh. Can ol'Uncle J be real with you kids for a second?”

“Who here's ever been abducted by aliens?” Joker raises his hand, and pauses, as if expecting a response. “Anyone? Hmm? You in the back? Well, I was! They wanted me for a comedian, which was actually a bit flattering...except they didn't laugh!” Joker tsks, pacing a bit. “I had to resort to physical comedy, of all things! So I thought I'd sharpen my act! To keep it simple, no one panics or calls the fuzz, we all get out of here alright. Shall we? Ahem.” Joker sprays his mouth with something, and winks.

“Anyone remember Commissioner Loeb? Big guy, white suits, kind of had that balding teacher you didn't want to leave little Stan or Susie alone with look going on? Gloriously incompetent? I miss him, I really do.” Joker looks nostalgic for a second, “But what always threw people off about the old man was, well, the cartoons. I don't know how many of you babies have been in the guy's office but it was everywhere! Mice, ducks, loved the Cashews kids. You know I kidnapped the guy who wrote those comics once, but that's a different story, the point is we're all used to cops being gruff and grim with an optional heart of gold and here's a guy who dresses and acts like everyone's creepy uncle. So I think, what's your angle Loeb? And by think I mean, you know, kidnap." Joker shrugs like this is a normal train of thought. "People just aren't direct enough you know! So I'm there, he's there, we're in one of those convenient sewer tunnels that whatever mad genius that designed this city just put EVERYWHERE, and I've even decorated a little. Ah heh, to set the mood. He barely notices, the swine, just gives the usual you'll never get away with this banter and the Bat's late, I suppose, so I just ask him, Loeb, what's with the kiddy shit?”

“The man looks at me and starts blubbering." Joker makes a little crybaby motion over his eyes, "Says he gets that all the time. He just likes them! Though it made him approachable, reminded him of good times growing up. Doesn't understand how it's any different from sports trophies or pictures of your boat or anything else and the thing, he said, about saying 'you'd never touch a kid' is that it makes a certain sort of mind all the more ready to believe you'd touch a kid and God if that wasn't true!”

“I let the guy go. What could be funnier than that?”

Comments

[soundsmith]

With the Flash's help, his parents' mansion had mostly been fixed up, but there were some things that took time. Namely, fitting it with new windows. Ultimately, he'd had to measure the windowsills and place an order (and there were a lot of windows in that place), and it was a bit drafty staying in a mansion with no windows. So, while he was waiting for them to go in, Hartley went on a road trip. And, because he was Hartley, the road trip consisted of mapping out all the big charitable events and going to each one to help out and donate a chunk of the money he'd inherited from his parents. In keeping busy, he'd found, it was easier to run away from the thoughts and memories that had been plaguing his mind.

He'd almost skipped over going to Gotham altogether, because it was Gotham, where the heroes are scary and the villains are scarier. Still, he'd ultimately decided that only meant the people of Gotham needed all the help they could get, so he planned a stop there, as well. However, not every night was focused on charity. Maybe knowing there was a comedy themed villain in Gotham, he should have avoided comedy clubs, but something about the advertising on this one had reminded him of the Trickster, so he'd gone in.

He was dressed casually, not prepared for a night of vigilante justice, though he had grabbed his tuning fork just in case he ran into trouble because Gotham was Gotham, which he had slipped into the pocket of his green hoodie. Clearly, it was too much to ask for Piper to not wear civilian clothing that wasn't strangely reminiscent of his costume.

However, after one entertaining act, there was another that he wasn't too thrilled with. Joker. Even as a villain, the Piper refused to associate with him, because the Joker seemed too dangerous and psychotic for his tastes. The fact that he had since had an incident where he'd been dosed with Joker venom had only cemented his dislike for the crown prince of crime.

He knew he should just be quiet. Train his ears for any noises that might indicate some kind of bomb or other device, and otherwise wait this through until he knew what Joker was up to. However, Hartley was really bad at shutting up when he had something to say. After a moment of listening and hearing nothing other than the people in the room, including those that were blocking the exits, Piper couldn't take it anymore.

"Eh, the Trickster was funnier."

Which was saying something, especially since his jokes frequently had just annoyed Hartley. Honestly, sometimes when he remembered how irritating the Trickster had been, he surprised himself with how much he missed those jokes now.

Still, knowing who he was insulting, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his tuning fork in case he needed it.