The Joker: Smile for Tomorrow

Gotham was quiet. For once, the city’s constant scream was more of a whisper, hidden behind the steady rainfall and hum of neon lights. The Arkham State Hospital sat like a monument of madness at the edge of the Narrows, its windows flickering dimly in the dark.

Inside, Dr. Elise Korrin adjusted her glasses and walked into Interview Room 6C.

She had been granted a single session with him—the man who had turned Gotham inside out. The clown. The killer. The one who laughed when buildings burned and cried when flowers bloomed.

The Joker.

He sat chained to the chair, hunched slightly, head tilted, green hair matted from rain. His purple jacket was faded and torn at the seams, and his white face-paint smeared like melting snow. But the grin—that grin—was fresh and permanent.

Elise sat across from him. “Mr. Joker—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, amused. “Call me J. Mister Joker sounds like a gym teacher. And you don’t seem like you’re here to make me do jumping jacks.”

He giggled.

She didn’t smile. “Do you know why I’m here?”

He leaned forward as far as the chains would allow. “Therapist. Fancy. Probably think I’m going to break down crying when you ask about my childhood. Ooh—maybe you’ll say something profound like ‘hurt people hurt people,’ and then I’ll start sobbing and repent.”

“You’re not here for repentance,” Elise said. “You’re here for clarity. I want to understand you.”

He clapped slowly. “How noble! But you’re going to be disappointed, sweetheart. You see—” He leaned back, arms wide. “Understanding me is like trying to smell the color nine.”

Elise remained calm. “Then let’s start with something simple. Why do you kill?”

He tilted his head, curious. “Why do you breathe?”

“It’s necessary for life.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning wider. “For you, breathing keeps you alive. For me? Chaos is my breath. Murder is my laughter. You people built a world so fake, so boring, so suffocating, I had to…exhale.”

Elise scribbled something in her notebook.

He snorted. “Still writing? Tell me—do you believe in sanity?”

“I believe in structure. Morality. Shared rules that keep society—”

“BAH!” he barked. “That’s what people say when they want to pretend they’re not animals wearing ties.”

He lowered his voice.

“You sit across from me like I’m the anomaly. But I’m not. I’m the mirror. You’re just scared to look.”

Elise paused. “A mirror of what?”

He smiled like a wound. “Your worst self. The part that wants to punch your boss. That wants to scream in church. That whispers, What if I just didn’t care anymore?”

He leaned in, whispering: “You don’t cure me, Doc. I infect you.”

The room chilled. For the first time, Elise’s hand shook slightly as she wrote.

“You hide behind ink and theory,” the Joker said, eyes gleaming. “But deep down, you know I’m right. Society is one bad day away from wearing my smile.”

She met his eyes. “I don’t believe that. People are better than that.”

The Joker leaned back and clapped again—slow, mocking.

“And yet here I am. The product of your precious society. I didn’t crawl out of a swamp. Gotham made me. Every crooked politician. Every kid who laughed at me. Every boss who underpaid me. I’m your punchline.”

He laughed softly, then sighed. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Elise raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Oh yes,” he said with delight. “You think this is a one-way interview? Tut tut, Doc. I’ve been watching you. Reading your file. Elise Korrin—top of your class, lost your fiancé in a mugging, didn’t take a day off. Devoted to healing minds.”

He smiled like he knew her better than she did.

“So tell me, Elise… does it feel good? Helping people? Or does it just distract you from the fact that the world chewed you up too?”

She stood abruptly. “This session is over.”

“Ohhh, I struck a nerve!” he said, eyes wide with glee. “It’s okay! That’s what I do—I find the cracks and I pour in the crazy.”

Guards entered the room. Elise turned away as they moved toward the Joker.

As they cuffed him and led him out, he shouted over his shoulder, “I’ll see you again, Doc! And next time, you won’t be the one asking questions!”

That night, Elise sat in her apartment, rain pattering against the windows. She stared at her reflection. Her notebook lay open beside her, filled with Joker’s words. And somewhere, deep inside, a voice whispered:

"What if he’s right?"

She shut the notebook and poured herself a drink. Just to forget.

The next morning, Joker was gone.

An empty cell. No sign of escape. Just a single card left on the bed:

🃏

“Smile for tomorrow. The joke’s still on you.”