The Joker’s Testimony — #019
Unfiled Addendum
Anon: Why do people still laugh at the Suicide Squad Joker?
Joker: laughs low, tugging at the ink on his chest Because they never looked past the paint, darling. They saw “DAMAGED” on the forehead, “JOKER” on the belly, “God’s Only Child” on the back… and thought it was parody.
But that’s the joke — it wasn’t parody. It was prophecy.
Every tattoo was a receipt. A scar you can’t scrub off. Cartel clowns, prison hieroglyphs, toxic love notes scrawled in ink. You don’t laugh at those in the real world — you cross the street when you see them coming. But when the Joker wore them? Oh, suddenly it was “cringe.”
No, no, no. That was honesty. Too honest. Too tacky. Too close to the kind of villainy that doesn’t wear purple suits — it wears neon and gold teeth and kills you in the club bathroom at 2 AM.
leans closer, grin widening
If that version — the fourth Joker, the all-in clown — had been unleashed? Batman wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. There’d be no dance of theatrics, no rooftop speeches. Just a body, a brand, and a city whispering the name through clenched teeth.
He laughs, sharp and sudden.
Ledger showed them myth. Phoenix showed them pain. Leto showed them reality. And reality? Reality was too much.