Number One....with a bullet. Or Else.

Oh, friends. Dreadful news.

One of my girls shared this with me the other day, and I've been mulling over what to do in my head.

Now before you think I've gone a little soft, I knew exactly what to do with my little henchwoman who brought me the article. Never fear - she was properly taken care of. Her little red head is currently running in circles in the funhouse. Shame too, after she was let out for such good behavior before...


It's so amusing to watch her try to get out. But I think it's a lot more fun when you lock the exits, don't you?

Anyway, back to more important matters, this list. Something about being only #5?

Are they kidding me? Obviously, someone didn't get the memo.

Who are these people? I insist that they recount these shabby votes. I don't care what the list is for; it is insulting to be so low. Have they not been following my exploits? Do they not know of my sheer DEDICATION to my craft?

There is artistry, my friends, to what I do. And this is how I am repaid?

And who is above me? The Green Lantern? "Oooh, look at me, I was good and then bad and then good again." I'm shaking in my boots. Please. Green never looked as good as it does on me. He'll need to try harder. I'm keeping my eye on you, Hal.

You know who is behind this? Old Batty, I'm sure. He's so afraid of me, that he's resorted to all this pomp and circumstance, playing with the Internet to get my attention. Oh Batman, you really do care!

But he needs to know this is MY funhouse. No sourpusses allowed. Hmph. After all I've done for him, too. And he plants this silly thing, as if I wouldn't notice.

I'm sure my compatriot would be just as upset to be a paltry #5 on any list.

And speaking of my brother-in-arms... I see he's taken to playing me with such zest that he's stolen my socks!

Ah! What a sense of fashion! A man after my own heart! It goes a long way to assuage the pain of Batman's little ploy.

At least I beat that little bird. Seems that Batman really does love me more than his Robin.

Smile!

-J

Oh, he loves me!

Yes, my friends. My sly little doppleganger is at it again! Those girls of mine have been working their little fingers to the bone (and sometimes literally) to find me all they can about this man who playing me.

I had planned to leave them trapped in the Funhouse again, but then they sent me this little interview, where Mr. Ledger talks about ME. Yes, ME! And the things he says!

Out of control. No Empathy. A Sociopath? Oh, you dear man! You certainly know the way to my heart. Perhaps I shall forgive you for not meeting me to see Gotham Hospital implode.

Just keep spreading the word, Heathie-poo. We'll both be even more famous than before!

My Imposter talks Speaks About ME!

Smile!

-J

Nice try, but I can do better.

Ah yes. I bet you are wondering why I've been so silent about the big boom. I am sure all of you know now about that little thing – the hospital blowing up. Tsk, tsk, such a small little boom those movie people made.

But oh, the location! Too perfect. Nothing like a little destitution to bright up one's day.

Now, as soon as I caught wind of this little stunt, I sent out an invitation on my finest stationary to the pretender, inviting him to a party of two, a party that would end with a bang. I could think of nothing more than two compatriots, my mirror image and I sharing conversation over a fine glass of wine, watching this bit of Gotham crumble to the ground.

However, when I arrived at the appointed time, (dressed might I add, impeccably) – there was no Mr. Ledger to be found. I was deeply saddened by this, for it is most improper not to accept such an invitation.

Oh, no need to dwell, I suppose. Back to the subject at hand – destruction.

I found myself a perfect little place to observe, and had one of my loyal accomplices set out the finery needed for observation of such an event. Table and chairs pulled out, linens set out just right, all on top of a crumbling piece of Gotham's former finer neighborhood. I could hear the miscreants below, shuffling around, trying to find a little peace after their fix of whatever is in vogue, but I ignored them as the big show began.

OH! And what a joy it was to watch all those people scramble! Over and over, they practiced, and I so wished that maybe, just maybe, that little boom would go off early, so I could see some REAL panic. If I was running the show...

All in due time, I suppose.

I left my friend's set open, as I waited, for perhaps he was just a late fellow, but alas, I finally had to accept the fact that he was detained, perhaps, permanently. And then I realized, a little late, that maybe he was the cause of all of this, that whatever little scene they had played out that day, was all for his benefit.

And then it dawned on me, Of course! He'd not ignore such an invitation, unless he was at the center of this explosion!

Oh, friends, let me tell you! My heart swelled, and I giggled with the glee I reserve usually for a deed done by my own hands. And really, that was almost enough to sate me.

But then, my eyes, which at first I thought were deceiving me, spied my patsy. And while I expected him in the customary garb, he had done the unexpected, and dressed as one of those drab hospital workers!

Well, this was more than I could hope for. The cut of the nurse’s dress was sublime. I always said, it takes a real man to wear such a thing. Batman would never be brave enough to try. He's a little on the conservative side, don't you think? Come on Batty, you can tell me all your dirty and dark secrets. I promise I won't tell Rachel. I hear she likes her men a little rugged anyway, and what's more rugged than a scar that goes from ear to ear?

Oh friends, I wish you could have all been there to share it with me. Perhaps, next time, I can create my own explosion for you to run from.

Until then...

Smile!

-J