Novel & Cerita The Joker Why So Serious

Through the hole in her mask, I see Harley Quinn smirk but she says nothing, merely watching us. “Tell us what you want and we’ll give it to you,” Dad says, the tone of his voice firm but pleading. “Just please let me and my family go.” The Joker cocks his head like he’s actually considering it. I know he’s really not. He enjoys playing with his victims. He’s been amusing himself with me every single time he came to check up on me and he doesn’t give a shit that he’s the only one who enjoys these ‘jokes’. He’s crazy and it’s pointless trying to have a normal conversation with him.

Athena POV “I used to think my life was a tragedy, but now I realize, it’s a comedy”. That famous quote from the Joker runs through my head over and over, as my clothes are absolutely drenched in slimy red and yellow gunk. Only, in my case, it’s still a tragedy. I fail to see the comedy part in all of this.

he said, pacing again, each footstep a drumbeat that seemed to echo against the stone walls of our cell. Daniel…the joker, the one who could defuse any tension with a quip or sarcastic grin…was serious. Deadly serious. And now I was starting to feel a chill creep up my spine. Whatever was going on is making him this way, has to be very important. I idly rubbed my chin, pretending to think as I studied him. “Hmmm… weird that you will get serious about something. You’re always the one to throw jokes when things get rough. And now…this? Should I be scared?”

Joker wheezed out between his chuckles. Shooter punched him in the jaw faster than I could see and Joker's head snapped to the right. His laughter stopped in and instant and he stared at his older brother as I shifted nervously. Shooter was a hot head and violent but Joker was insane. A fight between them would be bloody and deadly. "STOP!" Pres commanded as Joker stepped towards Shooter. Joker paused and looked at his Father. "Your Brother is right. This isn't funny." Pres spat at his second son who sent him an eerie smile with blood running down his chin and mouth.

I said sternly. He sighed and lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll shut up. Go on, King Serious.” His playful tone vanished when I didn’t smile back. “Your condition,” I said tightly, “it’s getting worse. How do you expect me to stay calm when I can feel it?” “Relax, Jester.” He leaned back slightly. “We can’t control everything. I’m fine.” My jaw tightened. “No, you’re not!” I slammed my hand on the table. “You’re not fine, Lerio! I can save you—but not if you keep acting like you’ve already accepted death!”

I'm not joking I'm serious. ****

No jokes. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. I folded my arms. “I’m serious,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have joked. I shouldn’t have said any of that.” “Then why did you?” I shot back. He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. “Because I didn’t know what else to do.” I scoffed. “That’s not an excuse.” “I know,” he said. “But it’s the truth.” I shook my head, stepping back. “You don’t get to turn something that mattered—to me—into a punchline.”

Because of what he said, I want to laugh. Is he already insane? Why is he so irritated because I wounded myself with the knife? I produced a serious expression to demonstrate that I was not amused by what he said. I pretended it wasn’t a big deal and then joined in on his joke.

His face returned to that cold, unreadable mask, his eyes locking onto mine with unrelenting intensity. "I'm dead serious." The air in the room shifted, thickening, pressing against my lungs. I stopped laughing, and my pulse stuttered. As I stared at him, searching for any hint that he was messing with me, I found nothing but stone-cold seriousness. A chill ran down my spine again and I suddenly regretted ever finding myself attracted to this maniac. "Lucian," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "That’s not funny." He didn’t blink. "It’s not a joke."

“I’m not standing here while some smug, overgrown psycho makes jokes about the worst night of my life.” “Overgrown?” Jeremiah called after me. “That one hurt.” I reached the door and a hand slammed against it before I could grab the handle, blocking the exit and it made me freeze. Jeremiah moved in front of me, one arm braced against the door, the teasing finally gone from his face. For the first time since he opened his mouth, he looked serious. “I’m done joking,” he said. I folded my arms, mostly so he wouldn’t see my hands shaking. “Then talk.”