“sang the gangling green-haired man.
Few in Gotham City paid attention to the author of that singsong ditty. His pinched bone-white face, shining under a full moon, brought few comments from passersby. His full red lips were curled into a threatening sneer, but those who passed him smiled back through greasepaint and brittle plastic masks of their own and complimented him on his mask.
Only, the green-haired man wore no mask.
It was Halloween, and the Joker was stalking the streets of Gotham City, blending in with flocks of street-crossing trick or treaters.
Like them, the Clown Prince of Crime carried a bag. It was no mass-produced black-and-orange candy bag, but was a simple white laundry sack. And instead of candy, the contents of the Joker’s sack squirmed.
“Nice costume,” a man dressed in astronaut-white called in passing.
“Thanks,”
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