(Book One) This Joke's on You! (Chapter one)

“There. All better.” Harley finished stitching my cheek. She cut the thread and stepped back to admire her work. “Not that bad, if I say so myself. Here, take a look.” She handed me a black mirror. The face reflected back to me couldn’t be mine. I was hideous. I had never really cared about how I looked, but now, these stitches and cuts made all the difference. “Sorry I couldn’t stitch ya sooner. Just don’t open your mouth too wide. I’m out of analgesic.” I touched my forehead. The blood had dried, but the cuts looked like they would leave scars. “Thirsty?” She handed me a cup of red juice, and I took a sip. I started to gulp it down as Harley’s reflection smiled at me. I put the mirror on the table and tried to not think about my appearance as I leaned on my crutch and limped to the hallway.

Joker and his band of thugs had relocated, this time to a lavish, yet abandoned, apartment. Instead of a dark, fire-gutted hall, there was a beautiful tiled floor and red walls. Jojo came out of the kitchen, and saw me walking towards him. “G’day! I was looking for ya. Where ‘ave ya been?” I glared at him, and he laughed. His Australian accent was starting to annoy me. Ever since Joker had brought me back to this group, Jojo wouldn’t stop talking about much fun it was to gut someone, or how hideous I looked. Another one of his favorite topics was cooking.

“Boss told me to watch you. Make sure you don’t get away, and the like. So you’ll be helpin’ me in the kitchen.” I walked past him. “Eh, don’t be like that. Unless you want more of those.” He ran his finger along my new stitches. The painkiller Harley had used was starting to wear off, so I flinched away. He put his hands on my face. I bit him, and his retaliation was a slap. “Now get in ‘ere.” I pushed past him into the kitchen. He watched me like a hawk as I stood in the center of the room. “I was in the middle of making dinna. We mostly only have a chook and bikkies left.” Jojo motioned to a cooked chicken and biscuits on the counter. He shoved me toward the fridge. “Make something.” I opened the white box. Inside, I saw mayo and scallions. I also found some strawberries.

I got a knife and started to carve the chicken. I then cut the meat into small chunks and mixed with the mayo. I looked at Jojo; he was picking his nails, not paying any attention to me. I chopped the scallions and mixed them with the chicken and mayonnaise. I continued making chicken salad sandwiches. When I was done, I started to cry.

A tear leaked out from my eye and fell on the counter. Another one followed. I felt angry and sad, but I didn’t know why. I did miss my hometown, but even when I was with these criminals, I didn’t feel very homesick. I turned to face Jojo, the knife in my hand.

“Are ya done with dinna?” I nodded. “Stop cryin’ and serve it then.” I gave him a wide smile and threw the knife at him. It hit the wall and fell to the floor. “So it’s getting’ to ya, eh? Well, it took long enough.” He put his hand on the back of my neck and started to bring me to the door. Before we had taken four steps, Joker shoved the door open. It slammed into the wall while I tried to break free of Jojo’s grip.

“Boss, it’s working.” I was shoved into Joker. I couldn’t help it; I gave him the same smile I had given Jojo. He looked down at me and smiled back. He put his gloved hands on my shoulders and said, “Funny. This is better than what I thought it’d be.” He pushed me onto the floor and called out, “HARLEY!” a small “Coming, Puddin’!” replied, and in a moment, Harley was next to Joker. Joker turned his head to face her, and softly said, “Harley, you’re the greatest.” A happy squeak was Harley’s reply as she hugged his arm. “Now get off.” Harley let go and looked at me. I smiled at her. “That Venom really does it’s job, don’t it, Mistah J?” Joker nodded and left. Jojo stepped into the hall. “Where ya goin’? Dinna’s ready.” Joker growled back, “In a minute.”

I had taken that opportunity to get the knife off the floor. It’s shining, jagged edge was perfectly set in the handle. Jojo turned around and saw me standing in the center of the room, the blade facing the floor as I walked to him. “Come on, sheila, don’t be that way. What did I do to you?” I took another step. “That there is close enough.” He pushed me back, and I stumbled and fell. I used the oven to help pick me up. I started to giggle. Then laugh. I couldn’t control it. “What’s your name? Andrea? Come on Andrea, serve dinner.” “Okay. But I have one thing to do first.”

I drove the blade into Jojo’s stomach. He was quiet. I pulled it out and slit his throat. He fell to the floor as his red blood sprayed everywhere. That was my first murder; and it felt good.