Chapter I

This has little to do with Fear and Malice or any of my other one-shots, except for the fact that Harley and Jonathan are obviously friends. Also, I feel that this particular version of Jonathan is a tad OOC, given that he's rather whiney and self-conscious, especially compared to F&M Jonny. But it's all for the sake of humor. That said, if you haven't seen Breakfast on Pluto, do so. It's very cute and, obviously, features Mr. Murphy in drag, which is enough of a reason to watch it, if you ask me.

"Aww, c'mon, Jonny."




"Why not?"

"You know why not."

"Yeah, but it's not a good reason."

"It's a perfectly good reason, now go away."

"Please? Do it for me?"

"I wouldn't do it for anyone else. What makes you think I'd do it for you?"

"I'll be your best friend."

"You already are my best friend."

"That's why you should do it!"

"No, that's why you, of all people, should understand why I won't do it."

"Come on, please? I'll buy you a cookie."

"I don't like—why did you think that that would work?"

"Well, then, if you do it, I promise you can test your new batch of toxin on me."

"You know I won't do that."

"No I don't. I know no such thing."

"Well now you do. So your promise means nothing."


"Don't act so shocked; you know what I mean. And I'm still not doing it."





"Please, Jonny?"

"Go away."


"I'm ignoring you."



"…bunny rabbit?"

"For God's sake, Harleen, I'm not wearing a damn dress!"

Ten Minutes Later…

"I hate you."

"Now, now," Harley scolded. "Let's not go saying things we don't really mean."

"There was no need for you to wax my eyebrows."

"Have ya seen your eyebrows lately? Yes there was. It's just a good thing you shave your arms and legs on your own…"

"Yes," he seethed, "and I'd like that information to remain private, if you don't mind."

"Of course, of course." She waved a hand dismissively. "Although I dunno why you're gettin' all bent outta shape about it—I wish most guys would shave all over. I mean, they bitch when chicks forget to do their armpits, but they're allowed to let theirs go, like we're not supposed to be grossed out by it? The hell?"


"And stop movin' or else I'm gonna poke your eye out."

"That's assuring. I feel much more relaxed, now. And women voluntarily put themselves through this torture on a regular basis?"

"A lot of 'em, yeah. Now,hold still." Squinting, she carefully applied a layer of smoky gray eyeshadow, highlighting it with a brighter, cream-colored shadow above his eyelid.

"I'm going to look like a whore," he moaned upon seeing her select a shade of gray/black eyeliner.

"No you won't," Harley assured him. "I'm doin' your makeup just like mine, and I don't look like a whore, do I?"



"You deserved that," he pointed out.

"Rub this on your face," she ordered, handing him a bottle of moisturizing lotion. "And I did not. I'm always nice to you."

"You're making me wear a damn dress!"

"Ah, I'm not making you do anything, munchkin. You don't have to wear a 'damn dress' if you don't wanna."

Jonathan shot her a withering look.

"Reverse psychology, Harleen? On me? Really?"

"I dunno what you're talking about," she replied innocently, leaning in to apply the foundation. "Geeze, you're lucky we have the same skin tone. I dunno what we'd do if you didn't."

"Not make me walk around Gotham in drag?" he deadpanned.

Harley sighed, powdering his nose. "Really, Jonny, you're making too big a deal outta this."

"I don't understand why it has to be me," he huffed, crossing his arms. "And why I have to wear a damn dress."

"Because this is J's and my old hideout, so all our stuff's still here, but you've got nothin' to wear except your asylum uniform, and because nobody else's clothes'll fit you. So, we need to go shopping."

"You can't do it on your own?" Jonathan demanded. "I trust you not to buy me anything horrible."

"You're so sweet," she beamed. "But, no, I can't go by myself. This is the big, bad city, Jonathan. Someone might try to rape me."

"At which time, you would kill them with your high heels," he retorted, giving her a pointed glare. "I've seen that happen before. Several times."

"Well still. J gets worried if I'm out wandering the streets, all alone and unprotected."

"I'll bet…" Jonathan muttered. "Then why doesn't he go with you?"

"Oh, cuz he's manstruating or something," she informed him. "And we got inna fight and he stormed out. Took the kids, too, the bastard…"

"All right…then why don't you ask one of the henchmen to accompany you?"

"Have you seen those guys? None of 'em would clean up well—heh, none of 'em clean up period. But seriously, it'd look suspicious for preppy little me to be walkin' around with some big, greasy thug." She applied some pale pink blush to his cheeks. "And we're friends. Friends go shopping together."

"Female friends, maybe." Jonathan scowled up at her.

"Yeah, but Red hates to go shopping. And she has terrible taste in clothes, unlike you."

"I knew one day I'd come to regret my good fashion sense," he sighed. "I just never thought it would be like this."

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic, we're almost done. All that's left is the lipstick."

"Nothing red," he told her sharply, knowing Harley's fondness for the color.

Smiling, she shook her head, reaching for a tube of pearly pink lipstick.

"Silly rabbit—red lipstick's for whores. And only brown-eyed blondes can really get away with it. That's why J always looks so good."

Jonathan opened his mouth, about to make a snide remark about her clown boyfriend, when he realized something.

"Wait, brown-eyed blondes?"

"What about 'em?"

"You emphasized the word 'brown,'" he began slowly, "and there was no need to do that unless you were making a comparison of some sort."

"…your hair's too short," she blurted finally.


"To be a girl. It's too short. So you're gonna have to wear a wig, and the only colors I have are brunette and blonde—and since I can't go out as a blonde without being recognized…"

"No. No, absolutely not. Say I have one of those…pixie cuts, or whatever they're called."

"It's too long to be a pixie cut."

"Oh for God's sake…"

"It'll be fine," Harley assured him. "I've always thought you'd look good as a blonde."

"I'm not wearing a wig."

She let out a snerk. "Yeah, and a half hour ago, ya weren't wearing a dress, either."

Another Ten Minutes Later…

"Why Scarlett, I do declare, you grow lovelier by the day!" Harley cooed in a horrendous Southern accent.

"I will kill you," Jonathan warned before taking a deep breath and turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror. He sighed. "It had to be polka dotted, didn't it?"

"Polka dots are classic, Jonny, and you know it. Besides, it's the only one of my dresses that ya didn't whine about—"

"Because it was the only one that fit," he snapped, picking at the eyelet sleeves of the knee-length dress. "All the rest were either too tight, too short, or sleeveless." He shook his head at his reflection, then stopped when soft, golden-blonde curls bobbed around his shoulders. "I look like my mother."

"Well, she must've been very pretty," Harley said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "And at least you don't look like a whore."

"I suppose…" Jonathan admitted dejectedly, still taking in the sight of himself in a navy blue dress with white polka dots, along with flesh-colored stockings, a string of pearls, and a pair of black pumps.

"I mean it, though," Harley insisted, winding a light blue scarf around his neck to hide his Adam's apple. "You're the best doll I've ever had—even better than My Size Barbie!"

"I'm so happy for you," Jonathan said dryly as he slipped on the coat that she handed him. It was a warm shade of tan with a fox fur collar (faux, of course).

"Oh, Jonny—"

"'Oh Jonny' nothing," he cut in. "I can't believe I'm doing this—it's ridiculous. You just know that this isn't going to end well. I'll be recognized, and then I'll be caught—because you can't run in heels, I don't care what you say, Harleen—and then it'll be all over the news that Dr. Jonathan Crane, former-renowned-psychiatrist-turned-criminal-mastermind, was arrested while parading around Gotham in a damn dress. Because that's just how my life goes. It's nothing but one horribly ironic joke after another, and everyone thinks it's funny except me." He sighed, whining, "I'm one of Gotham's most wanted. I'm not cute, or pretty, or…blonde. I'm the Master of Fear, damn it."

"Of course you are, muffin," she assured him, playing with his wig. "It's just that, underneath all that burlap, you make a very pretty girl."

Jonathan ground his teeth.

"Are you wearing the panties I gave you? Cuz you know I'll check," Harley warned him.

"Yes," he snarled, refusing to admit that the lacey, white underwear worked better with the tights than his regular boxer briefs would have, as the panties didn't have a tendency to bunch up.

"Looks like we're all set, then!" She grinned up at him and flipped her white silk scarf over her shoulder before throwing a long, leopard print jacket on over her shorter, bright red dress. Jonathan rolled his eyes at the her footwear: white, knee-high, pointy toed, stiletto heeled boots—impractical to the extreme, yet he didn't envy anyone who tried to mug her.

Suddenly, he noticed her hair.

"What happened to going as a brunette?"

Harley shrugged. "Eh. Blonde hair goes better with this outfit."

"…so I could have worn the brown wig."

"Well, not anymore—you've already got the blonde one on. And besides," she beamed at him, "now we look like sisters!"

"All right, now I really am going to kill you—"

"Just as long as ya wait 'til after we're done shopping," she giggled, looping her arm through his. "Don't worry, Jonny. Remember—'the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.'"

"Yes," Jonathan sighed, "and I'm sure FDR had cross-dressing in mind when he made that speech. Can we just get this over with? I'd rather not be here when—"

"We-e-ell…" said a loud, nasally voice from behind them. "What do we have…here? Harley-girl, you didn't tell me you had a sister."


At this point, had he not been an atheist, Jonathan would have sworn that God hated him. Trying to maintain as much dignity as he could while wearing a damn dress, he glared at the reflected image of the Clown Prince of Crime, who stood in the doorway, in full regalia. Harley wasted no time in scampering over to her lover and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Are ya done being in a pissy mood?" she asked pleasantly, while giving the Joker a stern Look. Somehow, she always maintained a perfect balance of anger and happiness, despite her otherwise unbalanced mind.

"I gotta admit, three girls in the apartment is, uh…a bit much." He tossed his lank, green curls haughtily. "Though I do wear the nurse's uniform better than you or Scaredy-Crane."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, though he wasn't about to admit that he made a better woman than the clown ever would, and simply made a show of fixing his hair.

"I dunno," Harley began. "No offense, Mr. J, but Jonny's got pretty nice legs."

"Waitaminute," the Joker gasped mockingly. "Jailbait? Is that you?" He cackled. "Heh, guess now I really can call you that…"

"Jonny and I are going shopping," Harley explained. "But, since he didn't have anything to wear…"

"Ya improvised," he finished. "Way t'be resourceful, Harl, that's my girl." He pinched her cheek—so hard it left a red mark, but his girlfriend didn't seem to mind. "I gotta ask, though: Why…d'ya make 'im wear the blonde wig?"

"You don't think he looks good as a blonde?"

"Oh nonono, no, no…" the clown said. He watched Jonathan and licked his lips. His eyes glittered.

"I just don't know if he can handel it."

Glaring, Jonathan turned on his two-inch heel and brushed past them both.

"I'll be in the car."


Enjoy Being a Girl – the title is a reference to the song "I Enjoy Being a Girl," which is from the musical Flower Drum Song.

Harley's accent – fluctuates back and forth between her "normal" one from F&M and a much looser, more Joker-esque one because, at this point, she's obviously spent a lot of time around Mr. J and I just imagine her having picked up several of his traits and mannerisms, not to please him but just sort of unconsciously. Like how in F&M, from time to time she gets that pissy Jonathan air about her? That said, I really don't picture her sounding much like cartoon Harley. Much as I love Arleen's voice work, I think it would be a bit grating for a three-some-hour long movie, and I say that because the actress in me won't let me write anything without considering the (highly unlikely) possibility of it being adapted into a play/film. Anyway though, if anything, I imagine this Harley sounding like a combination of the Joker Blogs Guy's voice and Sally from the movie adaptation of Reefer Madness: the Musical.

"I'll be your best friend." – when I was a little kid, this always seemed to be what girls my age would say if they were trying to get someone to do something for them. I don't know if it's still true for little girls today, but nonetheless. Hopefully somebody recognizes the line and finds it funny. :-P

"It's just a good thing ya shave your arms and legs…" – for some reason, I have this idea that Jonathan can't grow much in the way of body hair, and what little hair he does have, he can't stand and so he shaves it off. Maybe that's why he's always so covered up with clothing? It's got nothing to do with always being cold or not wanting anyone to see his scars or something silly like that. :-P In addition to this, practically every guy I know (the ones that aren't gay or actors, anyway) is against the idea of shaving because they think that it would make them sissies. *eye-roll* Funny thing is, the boys on my school's cross-country team all shave their legs (for more speed) and they're always mentioning how much nicer it feels to wear long pants.

"…bitch when chicks forget…their armpits…they're allowed to let theirs go" – on a personal note, just because I'm curious to know if anyone else feels the same way, but I can't stand underarm hair. On anybody. It's just icky and I don't understand how guys are allowed to get away with it, even those male models who shave/wax everything else. One time, I got into an argument in a Women's Studies class when one girl started going on about how, even though most women do shave under their arms, they shouldn't have to because it's just another form of patriarchal domination, yadda, yadda, yadda… And I said that I agreed, men should have to shave, too. Nobody could really think of a response to that, though none of them seemed to disagree, either.

manstruating – this is the (supposedly real) the concept that, like women, men experience a 'time of the month' where they act like royal pains in the ass. Unlike women, guys will behave like this for no apparent reason, and don't have to put up with the bleeding, fatigue, cramps, and all that other lovely stuff like women do.

"Why, Scarlett…"Gone with the Wind reference, though I don't think this is an actual line in either the movie or the book, and I'm not about to read or watch to find out. Once was enough, thank you.

Harley's outfit – is on the outfit she's wearing on the cover of Harley Quinn #9, which can be seen here: http:// cdn1. ioffer. com/ img/ item/ 112/ 672/ 461/ o_Ys9MThHh5UzW4Oh. jpg

The Joker – was incredibly hard to write, not just because there's so much room for interpretation, but also because this is just a short, light piece, so I didn't want to get too in-depth with his and Harley's relationship, how Jonathan feels about it, etc. That said, I hope he was okay. He'll be much darker when he shows up in the F&M series.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harley, Jonathan, or J.