[daily-joker]

The Criminal, The Clownish, The Comedian

BATMAN: THREE JOKERS (2020)

[current-comix]

Batman: Three Jokers #1 (Jason Fabok & Brad Anderson)

[moderndaypagliacci]

@deamonassassin​ doesn’t get the joke.

     “So many--” he’s clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with it’s shell. They’re all so beautiful, the line up of girls.      “--choices.” Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. “What would you--” he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, “--recommend?”      The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.

[moderndaypagliacci]

     “When you’re in my line of work, pumpkin, you make it your business to know your crowd. To know your audience.” He’s smearing away the lipstick so that red              (seemingly bleeding)      ones could appear in a horrendous rictus.

     “You think I would just merrily stroll into your fine establishment without knowing the security and safety protocols you have in place for that fine merchandise of yours? Well, heh, who am I kiddin’? I might’ve. I suppose that day was just a unlucky one for you because I was feeling, particularly, paranoid that afternoon... and why wouldn’t I be? I was testin’ out my latest number! Had to tune it just right and see if it could go along without a hitch! HahaHAHA!” The towel had been returned to the rack when he let out that wretched laughter from the pit of his stomach, cradling it in one of his hands while the other one pressed against the wall from the inside of the bathroom’s threshold where he stood.      “Heheh... Hahahaha... Heh... Phew!” Inhaling deep, he let it out just as quickly. Drumming the fingers attached to the hand positioned on the bathroom wall rhythmically as he kept his beady green eyes on her. Almost as if he were peering into her soul, attempting to gauge her intent. Her body language.      “You’ll have to forgive me, I crack myself up sometimes. But in all seriousness, if it’s of any consolation...” His voice drops down an octave so he can deliver this seemingly solemn promise. “SHE WAS ONE HELLUVA INSTRUMENT!” 

     Like something out of Taxi Driver, there was a wrist-bound mechanical holster in the sleeve of the hand that wasn’t hidden behind the wall. It sprung to life and immediately filled his right hand with it’s weight, index finger instinctively wrapping around the trigger. That shrieking laughter left his lips again as he fired off a total of 4 shots from what seemed to be a snub nose revolver, making a sideways sprint to the open balcony as he did so he could jump off it’s railing. He had a suspicion that she didn’t come alone, although she was the only person in that room with him, he imagined she must have had some sort of insurance up her sleeve. That was when-- while he was wiping his face-- he noticed a glimmer reflect off against the chrome towel rack that wasn’t the bathroom fluorescent. Could’ve been nothing or could’ve been a sniper from the parallel building.              (Only one way to find out)      They weren’t that high up and so when he jumped, he remembered that the awning from the front entrance of the hotel would break his fall.  His body tore through the fabric and he landed on the sidewalk with a dull thud.      “C’mon, Jokesy, getupgetupgetupGETUP--” Chanting to himself almost like a temporary mantra, giggling the entire time he did as he stumbled to his feet and started to run down the block. Firing off a round or two to part the crowd of people gathering in his way like Moses parting the Red Sea.      “OUTTA MY WAY, FOLKS! OFFICIAL CLOWN BUSINESS!”

[moderndaypagliacci]

@deamonassassin​ doesn’t get the joke.

     “So many--” he’s clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with it’s shell. They’re all so beautiful, the line up of girls.      “--choices.” Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. “What would you--” he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, “--recommend?”      The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.

[moderndaypagliacci]

     The front door swung open and his lanky silhouette stretched into the apartment thanks to the spilling light from the hallway behind him. He shuts the door behind himself and starts to shrug off his labcoat, feeling the weight of it alleviate itself from his person. The briefcase in his hand gets shifted in possession to the other one so he could then switch his focus to the other sleeve of his coat. Once completely off, he hung it up on the rack mounted in his doorway. His balcony doors were wide open, the night air caressing the hairs on the back of his neck. He walks past it to make his way towards the bathroom, dropping the briefcase just before stepping through the threshold. He reaches down to grab both knobs of the bathroom sink and twist them on, filling up the porcelain bowl with lukewarm water as it soon filled his cupped palms. Splashing the water on his face and hair, he ruffles it a bit before dipping his head low and letting out a sigh.      “You can come out now.”  He announces without lifting his head, both of his hands grabbing at each end of the sink. What seems to be almost a paint-like brown and beige color is seen dripping off white fingers.      “I know you’re there--” turning to stand in the bathroom doorway, he reaches up to his own head and ruffles his            (now green)      hair. “--Madame.” Reaching with his left hand towards the towel rack to grab one, drying his head and face to get rid of any remaining cosmetics.

[moderndaypagliacci]

@deamonassassin​ doesn’t get the joke.

     “So many--” he’s clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with it’s shell. They’re all so beautiful, the line up of girls.      “--choices.” Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. “What would you--” he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, “--recommend?”      The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.

[moderndaypagliacci]

     “Eric.” A bit taken back by the woman who stepped forward, but not unpleasantly. He offers her a small smile for her volunteering, in return. Turning his pale greens to the Madame with a bit more confidence in his voice.       “Eric Border.” Straightening his tie, he lets the redheaded beauty take the lead. The two of them disappear into one of the bedroom suites upstairs for several hours. When he leaves she’ll gossip with her coworkers about how gentle of a lover he was, how different he was in bed than he was in person and how funny he was. Then she’ll laugh about it with them and go about the rest of her night laughing at the thought of it and him to herself, inexplicably. The laughing will become more and more frequent when she gets home, preparing a bath, and soon enough the laughter will seem like shrieks with how hard she’s doing it and how contorted her body is becoming from the force of it continuing. Some neighbors will say they thought she was watching a horror movie, some will say she was watching a comedy, some will say both... but they’ll all agree that the laughter stopped at about midnight.      Stopped like God pressed “mute” on the worldwide television remote.

     It’d be hours before they found the body. Naked, sprawled out on the bathroom floor with an assortment of bath products and toiletries littering the porcelain white tiles that fitted said bathroom floor. Under the mess of red hair sprouting from her head had been this sort of wide and horrendous grin. Sinews bleeding from how hard she was smiling from ear to proverbial ear. Her eyes strained with red veins that strangled the white of her eyes to something that resembled piss. Rigor mortis immortalizing that inhumane position her cadaver was left in. The coroner who’s going to perform her autopsy tonight will be able to hug his daughter tonight because he was persuaded to look the other way when one of his new arrivals has a visitor that same night.

     A visitor who stool tall and lanky, wearing a slim fitting black suit and who had slicked black hair with the sides of his head, shaven. Pale greens look upon the blanket covered carcass as bony white extremities reach out to peel away the cover so he can gaze at his own dastardly handiwork.      “Hello, Mary.” That timid and meek voice slowly losing those said characteristics and replacing them with something that was a bit more... sinister.

[moderndaypagliacci]

@deamonassassin​ doesn’t get the joke.

     “So many--” he’s clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with it’s shell. They’re all so beautiful, the line up of girls.      “--choices.” Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. “What would you--” he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, “--recommend?”      The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.

[endiness]

💔

[thekillingbat]

[andresisbatman]

- Batman: Three Jokers Variant Covers

[moderndaypagliacci]

@thcmidnightcr​ doesn’t get the joke.

     Cough. Spit. Stumble. Blurred vision. Clearing.

     “Phew... di-did somebody get the um--” he looked over at the totalled cab half sunken in the public fountain by Cathedral Square.      “--License plate number on that--?” He could taste copper on his now glistening red lips, feeling the moist grease of his own blood as he slicked his green hair back. Chancing a step forward, he nails the landing.      So he chances another.

           And another.

     “Aw, forget it... Heheh...” It’s at this point he’s noticed he’s amassed a crowd, they’re all staring like a bunch of deers in head--”Lights.” He finishes his thought aloud, looking back at the half sunken car and defenseless against the laugh that burst out of him, then. He’s looking around himself at the spectators at his show to see if anyone’s got the joke but all he’s seeing are those blank stares.      “Do ya get it, folks? Head,” he points at his bloodied cranium, “lights?” He points at the car. Nothing. A few confused murmurs here and there.      “What do you know?” Orangey red smudges his once white gloves as one of which reach into the inner lining of his coat’s lapel. It’s at about this time the seemingly disoriented gentleman pulls out a silver Colt Buntline Special and aims it up in the air, index finger coiled around the trigger as he gave it a light squeeze. Folded arm jerking down from the power of it as a shot was fired off into the air, immediately snapping everyone out from their voyeuristic trance.      “Oh, you get that huh? Rodney had it right all along. No respect.”

[moderndaypagliacci]

@thenightsplutoniumshore​ doesn’t get the joke.

     “Beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice had a sort of smoothness to it, like velvet, when it rung out to her. Though he was talking to her, it didn’t seem like he wanted to get her attention. He was just talking and he knew she’d probably be the only one in earshot to listen to him.      During it all. During the swirl of reds and blue. The siren calls beckoning from on top of squad cars parked around the perimeter of the crime scene. They were in a crowd and despite the indiscernible collective murmur of commonfolk gossiping, she struck him as someone who would hear a stranger’s offhand remark. Especially when the stranger had green hair, paper white skin and ruby red lips that-- technically-- were smiling but it didn’t seem to be a mirthful smile.      It almost seemed forced.

     “Wonder what’s on the menu tonight.” Saying this more so to himself than to her, who he had accounted in the scope of his periphery. Brunette. Rough looking. Local? He wasn’t sure yet. She’s seen enough not to look too disturbed at the sight of the carcass being carried into the back of an ambulance in a body bag. The movers didn’t even have the courtesy to tuck in the dangling, blood stained hand back into the slightly unzipped bag. They simply flung it into the back of the truck as if they were U-Haul or something.      He snickered at that.      “Modus operandi.” Pronouncing the phrasing as if he were seeing how it tasted on his tongue, a white gloved right hand finally raised up to slick his hair back. If she were to turn to look at him she’d see he was wearing a purple pinstriped suit with a green bowtie choking the folded collar of his tucked-in button down shirt. Polished black and white Spats hugged his feet, as if he were ready at any moment now to rehearse a performance with Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly or something. Shaking his head-- not necessarily disapproving but disinterestedly--at the every day circus in front of them, he turned away from the slowly dissipating crowd and slowly started to make his way down a nearby alleyway.      “Wonder what’s on--” he stops to look up at the moon, “--the menu.”

[jokerapologist]

Joaquin Phoenix as JOKER

[moderndaypagliacci]

- Batman: The Black Mirror (2011)

[thebittervampire]

You had to spoil everything, didn’t you? Beating up Bane, feeding Scarecrow to Croc, slapping around my Harley, my hobby by the way, and ruining all my lovely Venom plants!

[moderndaypagliacci]

@circusmade​ doesn’t get the joke.

     “Well look who’s flapped the guano off their wings and made a name for themselves in good ol’ Blüdhaven.      “I like what you’ve done with the place, Robby Poo, though if I’m competely honest it’s always going to be a second rate Gotham, wouldn’t you agree?”

[moderndaypagliacci]

@youmaythinkyouknowme​ doesn’t does get the joke.

     “Do my eyes deceive me or did this admittedly handsome-- but lonesome-- clown fly outta one too many cuckoo’s nests?      “Ah, who am I kiddin’? It’s probably both! HaHA!”

[joker-ka]

by Brian Bolland