Snack time and making pictures (open to anyone)

[Deleted]

It was snack time in the rec room and today was pudding day.  No utensils were given so the inmates had to use their fingers for safety reasons and was given wipes to clean their hands with afterwards.  An orderly cautiously came up to the Joker with his snack and held it out to him, his hand showing a little tremble, and a couple beads of sweat were forming on his brow as he gave out the treat to known psychopathic killers.

The Joker looked at the pudding. It was butterscotch. He loathed butterscotch pudding. He casually looked over to the guards who were watching him like a hawk.

"I want lime jello."

The orderly looked quickly over his shoulder to his supervisor.  Ted was new and this was a test as being a new hire, he was still on 30-day probation. He was growing increasingly nervous as the conversation began.

"B-but it's pudding day."

The Joker grinned and looked at Ted coldly, slowly leaning forward in his chair.  The guards shifted their stances also growing uncomfortable.  the supervisor held out an arm to make them stay back. Ted will have to deal with the likes of the Joker if he plans on staying here in the job.

"Can I have lime pudding then?"

"I-I don't think they make that flavor.....uh....s-sir."

The Joker's voice grew more impatient as he clenched his fist.

"Is that MY problem??"

"N-n-nn-o s-sir. But this is all we have."

A dark stain appeared in the front of Ted's pants and the Joker looked down and chuckled.

"Oh dear.  heehee!  You've sprung a leak!  Hahahaha!  I'm just playing with you. You're new here. This is the staff's way of hazing you.  But there is one thing...."

Ted blushed from embarrassment at wetting himself but also gave a sigh of relief at The joker's admitted playing.

"Oh you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, and what's that?"

The Joker looked at him blankly at the bad pun then snarled backhanding the pudding from his hands  it splashed violently all over the wall.

"I HATE PUDDING!!!"

He was about to pounce when he glanced at the mess and gasped with a smile rushing over to it and smearing it all over the wall.

"More I want more!  Chocolate!  Vanilla! Bring all you have bring it!!!"

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane could already hear the commotion from the rec room as he was being escorted down the hall. He knew that voice and he knew it well. He turned in the orderlies arms and halted his feet.”I’d rather go back to my cell.” He spoke in protest not really wanting to be pulled any further toward that room. He wasn’t afraid of what was beyond it, he was just smart enough to know that sleeping dogs should remain that way. “It’s Dr. Arkham’s orders, you’re on a new plan and right now its rec room time.” One of the orderlies barked back to him and brought him through. Normally they wouldn’t have dared to speak to him that way but there was four more following behind. Even Dr. Crane knew when he was outnumbered and Dr. Arkham had certainly upped the staff around him despite the new freedoms.

Slowly, he was beginning to regret ever asking for those new freedoms. It was wonderful to remain in his cell of late but to be forced to interact? That was not what he asked for. Dr. Crane was all but throw into the rec room and he quickly recovered in his stumble to try and not make a scene. There he was, The Joker had just thrown his food right as he’d come in the door and started screaming at the lunch person. New, but they could never keep one long around here. Dr. Crane didn’t eat for many reasons, but the main reason he didn’t eat here was because they put drugs in the food and he knew it. He did work here after all.

So instead of drawing attention to himself Dr. Crane stalked from pillar to pillar to the opposite side of the room near a chair that sat by its lonesome. His hands ran over the bumps raised from a not so old scar just above his pelvis. It was long and he could remember would deep it was. The Joker had intended to kill him that night but he didn’t know that he couldn’t die. Dr. Crane remembered how painfull it was as he crawled away leaving a trail of smeared blood until he got to a table, to manage to perform surgery on himself. He always took pride in his work, but not this time. The scar left was twisted and knarled, it was the worst stitching job he’d ever done. But what doctor could do a good job if they were the ones bleeding out on the table?

The doctor got to the chair and sat down. He kept an eye on Joker but grabbed a book off the shelf instead. He didn’t care to read the title; he wouldn’t even be reading it. Everything here he had read at least a thousand times.