Listen to me, Thomas. Listen.

Fear is a good thing. It is the protective barrier against the unknown. Mankind, we have used it for generations. The protective cocoon we have sown ourselves into, it is our fault our bodies have decomposed into the such a pathetic state. Misusing it.

Misusing fear.

Is that what you are afraid of, Thomas? Pain? Agony? Are the obstacles you have to cross so difficult to comprehend? Is the sanctity of human life such a complicated factor in what we do? The transition between what we are. From an innocent child, eyes shining with the hope and desire of developing into a man, into a grieving robotic device of sadism, programmed to extinguish whatever it has captured in its line of sight.

The transition is complicated. The inception is simple. All it requires is the flick of a switch. And to flick it? How about killing your best friend? Raping your sister? Sounds impractical, doesn't it? So what stops this? Moral codes? No, Thomas, we are being restricted by a thin bubble that can destroy us if our mind has already ceased to. It's fear, and that's when I get back to my point.

There's no use struggling Thomas. No, no, shhhhhh.

It'll be over soon. Just listen. Yes, Thomas, I understand your frenzied mind. Yes, Thomas, your family is safe. And no, there's no one near our area, so don't scream. Please, concentrate, and listen to my lecture.

We use fear for what? To protect ourselves against pain? Then what is pain. Eh? It's so easy to cross, if you would just take the step. Unfortunately, no one dares to. You've long been raised with the idea drilled into your heads. Pain is a sensory compound. It's good.

It's not good, Thomas. No. Pain is essential, but something essential does not necessarily mean its good. Pain is likely the worst thing that has been ever asserted on man alone. But why? Why treasure it? Why, when fear itself has acted against it?

Because fear was never against pain in the first place. The foolish leaders before you, have simply molded, carved such a flaccid idea and balanced it on the thread hanging by man. Fear and pain... both are essential.

Me? Insane? Heh, listen to yourself, you stammering crybaby. You obey the leaders. You consume the dead. You hold an ideology that a man cannot drink until he has reached a certain age. You fucking pay the people to oppress you. You sit everyday, staring at the meaningless static that has formed a baseless visual image in your mind, eating it like the fucking baby that you are. And me? Insane? The real ones, the real insane psychopaths, the monsters. It's not me. It's you. You're a freak. And I need to change that.

Let's go back to 5 years ago, Thomas. Back when I was one of you. Timid. Gullible. Simple. Moronic. The hunger we have for money. It was so self-destructive, was it not? And the task was so onerous too. And then my wife died. My, what a fucking twist, wasn't it? You could say it was a twist worth dying for. Heh, heh. Me, an innocent bystander. Fucked. By life itself. And then pain didn't seem so bad after all.

Thomas. You stupid asshole. Are you listening?



I'm sorry. Thomas, you need to stay with me. I need you alive for this. Or else I'll have to dig out one of your eyes. I've done it before, Thomas. Believe me, I have an arsenal of weapons in my mentality that can destroy you. But I won't. Not for now, at least. Listen to me, Thomas.

Try to focus. Try smiling.

We need fear. But by executing it wrongly, we have become vulnerable beings. That shouldn't be the way. I'll have to renovate this technique. Make it sensible. And the best way, of course, is to install a sense of pain. You should know where this is going, Thomas.

Do you see this button, Thomas? What do you think happens if I press it? A thousand people in a building will die? An airplane explodes? No, Thomas. I am not a mass murderer. Really, you should entitle that honor to our President. No, I am a lot less bloody. Of course, blood will still have to be shed. Currently, in a dilapidated house, there sits a girl. She's bound and gagged. An innocent girl. Really, I didn't even know who she was. With the press of a button, 3 bombs will detonate, pulverizing her into nothing but a battered corpse. Her family will mourns for her. It's sad, really. But I'm not going to press it.

You are.

Yes, you press this button, and I'll let you go. You can go free, go tell those blue men how much of an asshole I am, where I am, what do I look like. Just press this button.

Oh, oh, I forgot to mention something! Silly me, that girl has a button in her hands too. Yes, I took the liberty of placing it in her hands before tying her up. She's been told the same thing as you. Of course, she presses it, and you're a goner. No worries, she's not set to press it until exactly 10 minutes from now. I'm giving you this chance to do it. You can do it now, when she can't. She'll blow up, and you'll go free. Go on.


You're not pressing it? Why, you're scared? She's got a family? That's sad, I expected much more from you, Thomas. Don't you have a family too? Come on press the thing. Press it. Come on, just the push of a finger and it'll be over.

No? Thomas. Tho-

Okay. This is a pity.

Because you failed. And what have I been saying all these while? Passed through your ears like a gust of wind, eh? You have misused fear. You have let it consume you. No, this is not a moral thing. This is fear. Fear of condemnation, fear of disapproval. Your entire decision stemmed from the fear of something small, something that has flicked your switch. Something I have been trying to tell you not to succumb to.

And surprise, there was no girl at all. Nothing would have happened if you press the button.


Shocker, right? Yes, that look on your face says a lot. Unfortunately, I lied, and you failed the test. I'll have you know, I lie a lot, but a test is a test and you've failed. How sad. Looks like you can't be part of me anymore. You see this laughing gas? Yes, there's some X chemicals mixed in it to subject you to fatal overdose. You'll die, but you'll die laughing. Isn't that a chuckle worth of pins, Thomas?

Heh, heh.







I am crazy? No.

I am a monster? No.

Just a sensible man who was disfigured by your "hero". But at least I'm always smiling now. Grasping the truth. Embracing it. And I'm happy. I'll be very keen to share it around, thank you very much.

That's okay, Thomas. Shhh... that all right. It's all over.

I'm here to make you all happy. To laugh. To rejoice. For fear is essential, but I am there to neutralize it with an equally essential factor. Happiness.

Who am I, Thomas? You don't know? Never mind, I'll carve it into your chest later. Please, send my regards to Batman with your corpse. And remember to smile. I like smiling.

For I am The Joker.

Written by PrimalES
Content is available under CC BY-SA