The Clown Prince of Crime sat on his bed, anxiously wiggling in a straight jacket. A few minutes later he was pulling the straight jacket over his head, with a satisfied "TA-DAH" he threw it across his cell. He giggled at succeeding in removing another straight jacket. Joker skipped to the door and patiently waited for a guard to notice. Then just like they did everyday a nurse would come, aided by two guards and put his lovely jacket back on. Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, it was very repetitive. And Joker's tricks in the asylum were limited. Things like taking off his straight jack, playing dead, making faces and scaring guards were getting old. One guard in particular, Adam was walking by. Joker pressed his lips against the small window on his cell door and blew, it caused his scars to look even more disturbing.

He cringed and sucked on them " Won't do that again,"

" What do you want clown?" Adam said in an aggravated tone.

" I uh, got my straight jacket off," Joker declared proudly.

" This time can you send a pr-it-ier nurse, that last one was a"

Adam cut him off, " I don't have time for your games Joker,"

" Time, speaking of time," the clown began. "What time is it?" he cocked his head to the side.

" Leave me alone," Adam grumbled and walked off.

That's what Joker hated about Arkham, he had no clue what day it was. He had no idea how long he had been there. The little cell he had been living in had no windows and no clock.(Somehow he would use it to hurt someone.) He estimated a month or so. He wondered what Batsy was doing without him. The Batman, his inspiration, the only reason not to simply blow Gotham sky high and move on. He was the ying to his yang, Joker needed him. He knew he would break out at some point, but not yet. Ideas usually came to Joker like fireworks, booming into his mind with loud noises and bright colors. His impulses could not be ignored and he always acted on them. But nothing came to the clown yet and he was content to stay.

Suddenly two guards came into view, one of them carry a tranquilizer, both of them with hand guns on their belts. Joker waved and sat back down on his bed, assuming they were here about the white jacket flung across the floor.

"Goood morning boys," he smiled as they stepped in.

"At least I think so, do you have the time?" they both ignored the question.

" You're going to see a physciatrist today clown boy," one of them stated picking the straight jacket off the floor.

" Physciatrist?" Joker repeated.

" But I haven't had time to do my face," he whined.

" Any chance one of you guys could get me my makeup," he asked emphasizing the "P" in up.

" I want to look my best-ah,"

Ignoring him again they stood Joker up and led him down the hall and into another room. The doctor was not there yet. He looked around the room, just like every wall, ceiling and floor in Arkham, they were a dull off white. Like all the color had been sucked out. It of course had no windows, the only thing in the room was two chairs and a desk. And all the same boring non-color.

" Hello," a cheery female voice said as she opened the door.

Joker noted she sounded unusually happy for a physciatrist at Arkham Asylam. The sound of high heals clicked towards him.

" I am so sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Joker," the physciatrist said as she layed a note book and a few folder on the desk before Joker.

" My name is Dr. Quinzel,"