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Joyride

La Petite Mort

The scrutiny radiating from his blue eyes made the gun in my hand feel heavier than I once remembered. He was studying me from top to bottom and if he could've, inside out too. This wasn't my first time shooting a target so the metaphorical pressure I was feeling was all a mental facade. Logic always trumped emotions. The pounding of my heart was because my brain had tricked itself and as a result released too much norepinephrine and shocked the shit out of my body. But if my heart continued pounding at the rate it was, I was gonna take the knife out the left back pocket of my jeans and see how long I could survive watching myself as I carved it out.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" He stalked around me, graceful like a fox. The pads of his fingers traced the nape of my neck slowly. Methodically. Leaning in towards me, the heat of his breath hit my ear. "Nervous?"

"You're distracting me. Purposefully," I said and it wasn't total bullshit. The Joker's presence was smothering. If I wanted to breathe, I had to let his corruption into my lungs. "You smell like a fresh puddle of gasoline."

I would've lit a match and watched the flames of his body illuminate the room if I could've. It could take up to seven hours for a body to burn fully, but he was lithe and composed of lean muscle so for a body like his to turn to chimney shit it wouldn't have taken more than three hours. Two hours... two and a half, tops!

Steadying my arm, I finally managed to shoot my first shot. And then another. And then another. I completely went gung ho with the trigger, blasting everything in sight until the chamber was empty.

"Here comes the big reveal. The score that settles it all." Pushing me out his way, he rubbed his hands together and leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched the screen in front of him. "Lay it on me."

Stale hues of red and blue thinly painted the clown's face. Being that close to all that radiation and emission was gonna seriously blind him with time, but I wasn't going to protest. My triumph over him would scorch his retinas forever. It would haunt his nights whilst he slept beside Harley.

I regained my position beside him, nudging him with my hip to edge him away from the arcade machine. Gold colored numbers sparkled on the screen and two of us watched silently as my score tabulated. Tonight's classic game of choice was Gun Point, where accuracy and quick reflexes sorted the winners from the whiners.

My heart shrank two sizes too small when my score was revealed. It didn't take long for my sadness to brew into a strong anger. I'd been cheated, and I let those feelings known through my violence. The heel of my shoe smashed into the machines cheap aluminum siding, making a divet just about the size of the jokers fat head, who celebrated his victory with wheezes and cackles that turned giants into Napoleans. I jabbed Gun point's faux gun into his forehead. Right against that etcher sketch tattoo that he thought was so cute.

"Pew! Pew!" I whispered, squeezing the imitation trigger.

I felt the pressure of his forehead pushing back into the muzzle. "What a coinkydink," he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his purple blazer. Out popped a revolver tarnished with rusty blood that he overlooked to clean. "Daddy's got one too."

"It's so big." My heart leaped with joy. "You gonna use that thing or are you shooting blanks?"

The gun thundered as he fired a single shot. The acrid smell of charred plastic wafted in plume of smoke from the revolver. Joker smiled pleasantly and vacuumed the chemtrails through his flaring nostrils. He left my side, choosing to sit himself on the air hockey table with Morton the Moose.

Morton was strapped with cable rope and had been after Joker and I broke into the place. He was the one to receive the bullet. It ravaged through the felt costume, but I wasn't sure if it made it through the victim's skull.

"He alive?" I asked, standing on my tiptoes to peak over the Joker's shoulder.

He gave Morton a hard punch to the stomach and it elicited a groan from the man. Joker's smile soured. "Performance anxiety," he said before unleashing two more bullets into the moose.

"No fair!" I screamed, racing towards him. I yanked his arm to my chest and nuzzled the deep between my lungs. "Stop wasting those precious diamonds on Bullwinkle. It's my turn."

My feet jounced me up and down and I was unable to contain the excitement inside of me. I'd become a rambunctious toddler. If death were heroin then the Joker was the only supplier worth buying from. It had been a while since he offed me and I needed my fix.

"Patience, princess."

"Patience is for fools."

"I need a favor from you," he said. "A favor only you can provide. It would leave me in your eternal debt."

"Is it dangerous?" I caressed his narrow shoulders.

"Perilous."

Gripping the ends of his hair, I tugged hard enough to make the average man grunt in pain. "Foolish?"

Lips twisting upward into a snarl, a low hiss slithered from between his gleaming grill. "Absolutely."

I held his face. "Chance of death?"

"It'll make you scream."

Someone stick a fork in me! "Done!"

He stood, withdrawing his gun from my chest. My childish wails were muffled as he snatched my jaw in his hands and I ached beneath his touch. My jaw burned in agony. My head was dizzy with pleasure. The arcade became a carousel, blending colors and objects together in a swirl of exhilaration. I held my breath, awaiting his next move.

"On your knees," he ordered and willingly, I obliged. Opening my mouth, I fit as much of the revolver into my mouth as I could. It tasted like forgotten coins cemented at the bottom of a wishing fountain, but I rolled my tongue over the barrel, making sure to clean every bit of blood on it just for him. The hammer clicked and my eyes closed in excitement. Would I die? Would he go through with it? Would there be a heaven to await me? I hoped for Hell. His finger coiled around the trigger. "Bon appétit."