Police Detective Jim Gordon stepped into his daughter's room. It had been a long day of work, and he only wanted to see Barbara. "Daddy!" Barbara Gordon jumped out of her bed and hugged her father. "Hey, Babs! Be quiet, it's late." Barbara pressed her finger to her lips and nodded her head. "Go get back in your bed. I have a story I want to tell you." Barbara rushed back to her twin bed and sat atop the covers. "What is it?" "You see, Babs, today would have been your grandfather's birthday. I wanted to tell you about him." A puzzled look came across her face. "I don't remember him." "He never got to meet you, but he would have been so proud of you. In the sixties, he was the police commissioner of Gotham City!" "Isn't that what you wanna be, Daddy?" "I could never be as good as him. You see, he didn't fight crime alone. He worked with some people who he called Batman and Robin." "Batman and Robin? What kind of names are those?" "They didn't want people to know their real names. They had on masks, and they helped your grandpa arrest the bad guys." "How'd they do that?" "They were great detectives. Batman could solve a mystery like Sherlock Holmes!" "Shorelock Homes? Where's that?" "No, it's a... you know what? Nevermind." "So what happened to Batman and Robin?" "They just disappeared one day. I guess they got tired of always helping out." "Will you ever get tired of helping out, Daddy?" "Never, Babs. And I know you won't either." Detective Gordon kissed his daughter on the forehead. "I'm going to bed now. Let me tuck you in." As the seven-year-old girl fell asleep, Jim softly shut the door and started toward his own bedroom. "I wonder what ever did happen to Batman," he said to himself.
"Have you ever seen... Cinderella?" The guard outside Cell 0801 begrudgingly replied: "Yeah, so?" "The Prince goes looking for this girl because he was in love with her... or whatever. And the only thing he has to go on is this glass slipper." "What's your point?" "He tries putting the slipper on every girl he comes across, knowing one of them has to be a perfect fit. But there's only one reason her shoe would've come off." "And what's that?" The Joker stepped away from the bars of his cell and sat on the metal bench, leaving his brown loafers behind. He shielded his nose and mouth with ghastly white hands. "It wasn't a perfect fit." The guard heard a faint hissing sound and turned toward Joker. He saw a thin, green gas floating toward him, and he began to laugh uncontrollably. The hissing stopped along with his breathing. "I wasn't too sure about that one. I'm glad to know you found it funny." The Joker pulled a purple-cased iPhone 5 from his vest pocket and dialed his only contact. "This party is no fun. I'd appreciate if you picked me up." Doctor Harleen Quinzel rushed around a corner and came to a stop in front of Joker's cell. She wore a black skirt and red blouse, with thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair was tied back into a blonde bun. The Joker was dressed in his usual attire: purple pants, a pinstriped undershirt, and a green vest. His entire body was the same colorless shade as his hands, with the notable exceptions of his green hair and red lips. Dr. Quinzel searched the lifeless body of the guard, finding the right key. "He always was annoying," she said, unlocking the cell and setting Joker free. "Did you bring the gun?" he asked, sliding his feet back into his loose footwear. "I- I'm sorry, Mr. J. I didn't think the guards would let me in with it." "I thought you said they trusted you. Now the whole plan is ruined, but I guess every good show has a little improv." And so the two improvised their way out of Arkham Asylum, out into the cold black night. "Look!" Harleen pointed into the cloudy sky, where the bright light of a falling meteor could be seen. "Mhm." Joker ducked into the car.
"Have you ever seen... Cinderella?" The guard outside Cell 0801 begrudgingly replied: "Yeah, so?" "The Prince goes looking for this girl because he was in love with her... or whatever. And the only thing he has to go on is this glass slipper." "What's your point?" "He tries putting the slipper on every girl he comes across, knowing one of them has to be a perfect fit. But there's only one reason her shoe would've come off." "And what's that?" The Joker stepped away from the bars of his cell and sat on the metal bench, leaving his brown loafers behind. He shielded his nose and mouth with ghastly white hands. "It wasn't a perfect fit." The guard heard a faint hissing sound and turned toward Joker. He saw a thin, green gas floating toward him, and he began to laugh uncontrollably. The hissing stopped along with his breathing. "I wasn't too sure about that one. I'm glad to know you found it funny." The Joker pulled a purple-cased iPhone 5 from his vest pocket and dialed his only contact. "This party is no fun. I'd appreciate if you picked me up." Doctor Harleen Quinzel rushed around a corner and came to a stop in front of Joker's cell. She wore a black skirt and red blouse, with thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair was tied back into a blonde bun. The Joker was dressed in his usual attire: purple pants, a pinstriped undershirt, and a green vest. His entire body was the same colorless shade as his hands, with the notable exceptions of his green hair and red lips. Dr. Quinzel searched the lifeless body of the guard, finding the right key. "He always was annoying," she said, unlocking the cell and setting Joker free. "Did you bring the gun?" he asked, sliding his feet back into his loose footwear. "I- I'm sorry, Mr. J. I didn't think the guards would let me in with it." "I thought you said they trusted you. Now the whole plan is ruined, but I guess every good show has a little improv." And so the two improvised their way out of Arkham Asylum, out into the cold black night. "Look!" Harleen pointed into the cloudy sky, where the bright light of a falling meteor could be seen. "Mhm." Joker ducked into the car.
"Have you ever seen... Cinderella?" The guard outside Cell 0801 begrudgingly replied: "Yeah, so?" "The Prince goes looking for this girl because he was in love with her... or whatever. And the only thing he has to go on is this glass slipper." "What's your point?" "He tries putting the slipper on every girl he comes across, knowing one of them has to be a perfect fit. But there's only one reason her shoe would've come off." "And what's that?" The Joker stepped away from the bars of his cell and sat on the metal bench, leaving his brown loafers behind. He shielded his nose and mouth with ghastly white hands. "It wasn't a perfect fit." The guard heard a faint hissing sound and turned toward Joker. He saw a thin, green gas floating toward him, and he began to laugh uncontrollably. The hissing stopped along with his breathing. "I wasn't too sure about that one. I'm glad to know you found it funny." The Joker pulled a purple-cased iPhone 5 from his vest pocket and dialed his only contact. "This party is no fun. I'd appreciate if you picked me up." Doctor Harleen Quinzel rushed around a corner and came to a stop in front of Joker's cell. She wore a black skirt and red blouse, with thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair was tied back into a blonde bun. The Joker was dressed in his usual attire: purple pants, a pinstriped undershirt, and a green vest. His entire body was the same colorless shade as his hands, with the notable exceptions of his green hair and red lips. Dr. Quinzel searched the lifeless body of the guard, finding the right key. "He always was annoying," she said, unlocking the cell and setting Joker free. "Did you bring the gun?" he asked, sliding his feet back into his loose footwear. "I- I'm sorry, Mr. J. I didn't think the guards would let me in with it." "I thought you said they trusted you. Now the whole plan is ruined, but I guess every good show has a little improv." And so the two improvised their way out of Arkham Asylum, out into the cold black night. "Look!" Harleen pointed into the cloudy sky, where the bright light of a falling meteor could be seen. "Mhm." Joker ducked into the car.
I had to read the joke twice to get it.
Great beginning, Ultra!
i kind of thought it up on the spot
thank you! the joker is my favorite dc character other than batman himself, so i hope i do him justice.
"Have you ever seen... Cinderella?" The guard outside Cell 0801 begrudgingly replied: "Yeah, so?" "The Prince goes looking for this girl because he was in love with her... or whatever. And the only thing he has to go on is this glass slipper." "What's your point?" "He tries putting the slipper on every girl he comes across, knowing one of them has to be a perfect fit. But there's only one reason her shoe would've come off." "And what's that?" The Joker stepped away from the bars of his cell and sat on the metal bench, leaving his brown loafers behind. He shielded his nose and mouth with ghastly white hands. "It wasn't a perfect fit." The guard heard a faint hissing sound and turned toward Joker. He saw a thin, green gas floating toward him, and he began to laugh uncontrollably. The hissing stopped along with his breathing. "I wasn't too sure about that one. I'm glad to know you found it funny." The Joker pulled a purple-cased iPhone 5 from his vest pocket and dialed his only contact. "This party is no fun. I'd appreciate if you picked me up." Doctor Harleen Quinzel rushed around a corner and came to a stop in front of Joker's cell. She wore a black skirt and red blouse, with thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair was tied back into a blonde bun. The Joker was dressed in his usual attire: purple pants, a pinstriped undershirt, and a green vest. His entire body was the same colorless shade as his hands, with the notable exceptions of his green hair and red lips. Dr. Quinzel searched the lifeless body of the guard, finding the right key. "He always was annoying," she said, unlocking the cell and setting Joker free. "Did you bring the gun?" he asked, sliding his feet back into his loose footwear. "I- I'm sorry, Mr. J. I didn't think the guards would let me in with it." "I thought you said they trusted you. Now the whole plan is ruined, but I guess every good show has a little improv." And so the two improvised their way out of Arkham Asylum, out into the cold black night. "Look!" Harleen pointed into the cloudy sky, where the bright light of a falling meteor could be seen. "Mhm." Joker ducked into the car.
It appears the writer of Cinderella made one mistake.
"Have you ever seen... Cinderella?" The guard outside Cell 0801 begrudgingly replied: "Yeah, so?" "The Prince goes looking for this girl because he was in love with her... or whatever. And the only thing he has to go on is this glass slipper." "What's your point?" "He tries putting the slipper on every girl he comes across, knowing one of them has to be a perfect fit. But there's only one reason her shoe would've come off." "And what's that?" The Joker stepped away from the bars of his cell and sat on the metal bench, leaving his brown loafers behind. He shielded his nose and mouth with ghastly white hands. "It wasn't a perfect fit." The guard heard a faint hissing sound and turned toward Joker. He saw a thin, green gas floating toward him, and he began to laugh uncontrollably. The hissing stopped along with his breathing. "I wasn't too sure about that one. I'm glad to know you found it funny." The Joker pulled a purple-cased iPhone 5 from his vest pocket and dialed his only contact. "This party is no fun. I'd appreciate if you picked me up." Doctor Harleen Quinzel rushed around a corner and came to a stop in front of Joker's cell. She wore a black skirt and red blouse, with thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair was tied back into a blonde bun. The Joker was dressed in his usual attire: purple pants, a pinstriped undershirt, and a green vest. His entire body was the same colorless shade as his hands, with the notable exceptions of his green hair and red lips. Dr. Quinzel searched the lifeless body of the guard, finding the right key. "He always was annoying," she said, unlocking the cell and setting Joker free. "Did you bring the gun?" he asked, sliding his feet back into his loose footwear. "I- I'm sorry, Mr. J. I didn't think the guards would let me in with it." "I thought you said they trusted you. Now the whole plan is ruined, but I guess every good show has a little improv." And so the two improvised their way out of Arkham Asylum, out into the cold black night. "Look!" Harleen pointed into the cloudy sky, where the bright light of a falling meteor could be seen. "Mhm." Joker ducked into the car.
It appears the writer of Cinderella made one mistake.
Commissioner James Gordon stepped out of his car, slamming the door and hesitantly approaching the fiery crater before him. "What happened?" he asked, lighting his pipe. "Meteorite crash," answered Detective Thomas Stevens. "First one in a few hundred years." "How many injuries?" "The area was evacuated beforehand, so none. Can't say the same about property damage." Gordon looked around. The night was cold and the sky was empty. A narrow road cut through suburban blocks of two-story white houses and deceivingly green lawns. The strong smell of smoke wafted from the burning ground. Several police officers had busied themselves with closing off the scene. The Commissioner began to speak, but was cut off by someone in the distance: "Chief, you might wanna come see this!" "Excuse me," muttered Gordon as he approached the speaking officer. "What is it, Detective Bullock?" "There's something green glowing in the crater right there. I don't think that's normal, but I haven't been to many meteorite crashes." "I'll make sure someone checks it out after we put out the fire, Harvey." The blaring sound of sirens rang in the distance, growing closer. "Speaking of which, there's the fire truck." Gordon walked back toward the street and watched as the blood red fire engine arrived. Several firemen jumped out, wearing the appropriate gear. Their commander greeted Gordon. "Hello, Commissioner! I'm surprised you're out here, with everything going on." Jim furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?" "Oh, you know, the breakout at Arkham Asylum and such." Gordon paused. "Excuse me." He instinctually reached for his gun, checking its position on the inside of his light brown trench coat. He hastily ran back to his car, swung open the door, ducked inside, and sped away.
Sig by RomeNZ
