My Boyfriend Is a Psychopathic Clown: Harley Quinn's Story

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaarley...!"

I volunteered to take night shift at work so I could try and talk to Mister J. What he'd seen...well, it hadn't been what it looked like. Charlie offered to stick around ("These crazies go nuts a night, Doc."), but I told him he could just go home. While everyone else was filing paperwork, I snuck out of my office and down the ward hallways to his cell (I'd bribed Charlie to tell me where it was), using my key card to get in.

He wasn't sleeping - he never sleeps when he gets committed to Arkham - and he sat up when he saw me, hollering,

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARLEY!!!!!!!!" like he was mad at me, like we were still two lovestruck thugs evading Batman. Thank goodness for the new soundproof walls Arkham had gotten with a grant from the Wayne Foundation two years ago, or my job would have been toast. Seeing Puddin' was a direct breach of my contract...but it was so worth every millisecond.

"What are you doing here?" He sounded so upset....

"I came to save you, Puddin'!" I squeaked (he looked like he wanted to hit me).

"SAVE ME???????" Now he was furious, laughing in that crazy-sexy way.

"Harley-girl, I don't need saving. I've broken myself out of this hellhole so many times that I could get out blindfolded with my hands behind my back."

"Let me do this for you, Puddin'," I whispered, tracing his slim, sharp nose, fingers traveling down over his lips, over his body. Touching him made my skin grow hot.

"I guess I can involve you," he sighed, "but I get to make the plan."

I was sitting in my office, talking on the phone, updating the prostitute girlfriend of Killer Croc on his pyschiatric progress when he limped in, holding his side. I finished my call, and turned to him, just like we'd practiced.

"Joker. What seems to be the problem? You know you're not supposed to be here."

"Harleen!" one of the smaller orderlies called frantically. "Joker's out!"

 "It's my appendix..." He slumped to the floor, and I had to hold back my panic (it seemed so real!!!!!!!).

"He just passed out. I'm calling an ambulance. He said something about his appendix. I'm worried it might rupture." I used my cell to dial "911" and hoisted him over my shoulder, hurrying out a secret back entrance he'd told me about. Our ambulance (so I'd made a few calls...) idled, one of my lovin' sweetheart's smarter goons in the driver's seat, garbed in uniform. He put on the sirens and flashing lights...and we were off! I couldn't help but laugh, letting my hair loose from the tight ponytail I wore at work, kicking off my shoes and throwing my lab coat in the back. We'd pulled one over on them, and good!!!!!