Thread: Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?

"Wanna know how I got these scars, pretty lady?"

The Joker's tongue tentatively prodded at the scars he spoke of, at either corner of his mouth. The appendage seemed to have a mind of its own, seemed to seek reassurance that the ugly lines of scar tissue hadn't suddenly vanished. His grin widened.

"I wasn't always a . . . criminal, you know. I used to be quite the guy. You'd have liked me."

He nodded, as if in response to a voice only he could hear. The tongue tested the familiar scars again.

"Oh yes, I was quite the guy. I had it all; money, women, cars—everything a man could ever want. I thought it would last . . . forever . . ."

Here a nostalgic sigh interjected its way into his monologue.

"But some "friends," of mine, they had other ideas."

His voice rose, became less timid, more assured.

"They thought I was too high and mighty, and needed to be taught a . . . lesson. So they hired a man. A clown. A clown who liked to start fires. Who liked to watch beautiful things burn. They hired him to come to my twentieth birthday. Then, during my party, the . . . clown . . . set my home—no, it was more mansion than mere "home"—ablaze."

Deep in his memories now, the Joker paused as if to remember what came next.

"Oh, it meant little enough to me. I could always buy another mansion. I laughed it off. This made my . . . "friends," very unhappy, to see me so happy. So in a fit of rage, my best "friend" took hold of my current girlfriend's arm, like this—"

He grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and pulled her in to him, his white-painted nose burying itself in her hair for one deep breath before he raised his head to continue.

"—and pressed her face to the grill of the nearest barbecue pit. The smell of searing flesh filled the air. Not the sweet perfume it is now, but the stench of my lover's face burning off. My laughter disappeared."

His face took a turn from suddenly grim to almost playful, in a split second.

"He tossed her to the ground like a piece of meat, walked right up to me—about as far as you are right now—pulled a knife from his pocket, and then he asked me, in the most cruel tone you can imagine; that of a friend betraying a friend: "Why . . . So . . . Serious?"

With that moment the brunt of the Joker's true insanity came to bear, as his grin spread yet wider, and the glint in his eye magnified.

"He put the knife blade into my mouth—"

With this, he inserted the point of his own knife into the corner of his mouth, blade facing out, and carefully enunciated around the sharp blade, "—like this—"

Removing the knife from his mouth, he continued, after letting his tongue roam the corners of his lips again.

"—and pulled as hard as he could."

In a jerky motion, he mimed the action.

"Then he did the other side. And then he turned and left. I burned him alive in bed with his wife a year later."

"So, you see, that's why I can never be . . . serious, again."

The Joker's maniacal laughter penetrated the very walls.

One day I decided to become a criminal, I decided I needed a gimmick, so I cut up my face and started making up stories about how I got the scars, it has been working out pretty good since I started.

"Hey, Bat, would ya like ta know how i got these scars?"
The Batman pulled back his fist to land a blow, but Joker began taunting him. "Ah, ah, ah! Not if you want...*licks lips* to hear my story..."
"I don't want to hear your story, Joker, except the one that ends with you going to jail."
"Well... You might want to hear this one. It was when i was a kid. I didn't know it, but.... *licks lips* my father was involved in some.. shady business deals. We didn't have enough food, you know how it is with us "little people" in gotham. Well... *licks lips* He didn't do anything illegal as it was... *lick* he just... 'borrowed" some money from the wrong people."
"I don't want to hear it, Joker."
"You do, or I'd be out like a light. Anyway, he's late on his payment. The boss decides, hey, he needs someone to be made example of. So why not this poor scmuck? He sends his top hit man to my house... *lick* My mother tried to stand in his way, bargain for my fathers life. The man shot her, then shot my father. Meanwhile, i was in the corner. *lick* I was too scared to even cry, and he noticed. He pulled a bread knife fron the counter... *lick* holds it across my lips... and asks me... 'Why so serious?'"
"No!" The Bruce slammed the Joker's head into the cement, but he just laughed.
"Do you know... *lick* How much it hurts... *lick* to have your face slashed in two... *lick* by a serrated bread knife?" Sirens arrived in the street below. "Looks like you're going to have to break your 'rule' another day, Bat." The Batman tichtened the line keeping Joker attached to the exposed rebar, and dove off the side of the building into the night, the Joker laughing wildly in his wake.

*flicks tongue*

Hey, wanna know how I got these scars?

It doesn't matter, because The Joker fad is over.

wanna know how i got mine?

i was walkin down the street and i fell... hehe

R.I.P. Heath Andrew Ledger

Originally Posted by Sanquis

R.I.P. Heath Andrew Ledger

I hope he had other problems than that stupid Joker job. It would be so lame if he actually had nightmares over such a...non-scarey character.

Yeah, character actors tend to have such problems. It's sad, really, the best ones are always the most at risk for this sort of thing. (well, excluding awful actirs whi get all depressed because they can't act well enough to get a decent part. But that is most certainly not Heath Ledger. Great actor, world's going to miss him)

I picked at the scabs on my forehead when I was 5. That's where these scars came from.

Originally Posted by Man of Steel

"Wanna know how I got these scars, pretty lady?"

The Joker's tongue tentatively prodded at the scars he spoke of, at either corner of his mouth. The appendage seemed to have a mind of its own, seemed to seek reassurance that the ugly lines of scar tissue hadn't suddenly vanished. His grin widened.

"I wasn't always a . . . criminal, you know. I used to be quite the guy. You'd have liked me."

He nodded, as if in response to a voice only he could hear. The tongue tested the familiar scars again.

"Oh yes, I was quite the guy. I had it all; money, women, cars—everything a man could ever want. I thought it would last . . . forever . . ."

Here a nostalgic sigh interjected its way into his monologue.

"But some "friends," of mine, they had other ideas."

His voice rose, became less timid, more assured.

"They thought I was too high and mighty, and needed to be taught a . . . lesson. So they hired a man. A clown. A clown who liked to start fires. Who liked to watch beautiful things burn. They hired him to come to my twentieth birthday. Then, during my party, the . . . clown . . . set my home—no, it was more mansion than mere "home"—ablaze."

Deep in his memories now, the Joker paused as if to remember what came next.

"Oh, it meant little enough to me. I could always buy another mansion. I laughed it off. This made my . . . "friends," very unhappy, to see me so happy. So in a fit of rage, my best "friend" took hold of my current girlfriend's arm, like this—"

He grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and pulled her in to him, his white-painted nose burying itself in her hair for one deep breath before he raised his head to continue.

"—and pressed her face to the grill of the nearest barbecue pit. The smell of searing flesh filled the air. Not the sweet perfume it is now, but the stench of my lover's face burning off. My laughter disappeared."

His face took a turn from suddenly grim to almost playful, in a split second.

"He tossed her to the ground like a piece of meat, walked right up to me—about as far as you are right now—pulled a knife from his pocket, and then he asked me, in the most cruel tone you can imagine; that of a friend betraying a friend: "Why . . . So . . . Serious?"

With that moment the brunt of the Joker's true insanity came to bear, as his grin spread yet wider, and the glint in his eye magnified.

"He put the knife blade into my mouth—"

With this, he inserted the point of his own knife into the corner of his mouth, blade facing out, and carefully enunciated around the sharp blade, "—like this—"

Removing the knife from his mouth, he continued, after letting his tongue roam the corners of his lips again.

"—and pulled as hard as he could."

In a jerky motion, he mimed the action.

"Then he did the other side. And then he turned and left. I burned him alive in bed with his wife a year later."

"So, you see, that's why I can never be . . . serious, again."

The Joker's maniacal laughter penetrated the very walls.

:bravo:

Amazing. You should write more. If you do, please direct me to it!

Originally Posted by xXSomeGuyXx

:bravo:

Amazing. You should write more. If you do, please direct me to it!

Heh, thanks.

If you mean just general writing, check the Artists' Corner, I've got a few threads there of my writing. If you mean about the Joker specifically, though, nah, I doubt I'll write any more of that. He's a tricky character to do justice to.

Oh, I meant general writing. Alright, I will check.

I cut myself shaving

I walked behind a guy into a bar, I should have ducked.

i jumped off my longbaord down a hill because i got speed wobble and couldn't run it out so i fell right away and rolled into the curb. haha.

Originally Posted by AmazeO XD

*flicks tongue*

Hey, wanna know how I got these scars?

It doesn't matter, because The Joker fad is over.

Oh plz dont be the joker police

Originally Posted by AmazeO XD

*flicks tongue*

Hey, wanna know how I got these scars?

It doesn't matter, because The Joker fad is over.

Why so serious?

I slit my hand open so deep that you could see the layers of muscle and fat beneath the skin. Lucky thing it was an xacto knife, the scar isn't really that bad it was so clean. Barely bled, and I didn't damage any nerves permanently

I was cut up for sending this video to a friend.