Disclaim or Die: Read Or Die, Read Or Dream, and R.O.D-the-TV is copyrighted by and the property of Hideyuki Kurata, Akitaro Yamada, Studio Deen/SME, Sony, and currently licensed by Manga Entertainment, Geneon, and VIZ Media.

When he was considering crossing the line into villainy, he had the choice of subtle, mechanistic villainy or outlandish cartoon villainy. As a rational man, he would have chosen the former than the latter, but he was always one to consider other alternatives. One could not step into these choices lightly.

Cartoonish villainy had the fortunate guise of chaos; the wanton and exaggerated release of the base impulses of madness and appetite for destruction. He could certainly put a method to the madness, and that would be the perfect smokescreen for his grand scheme.

It certainly seemed to be the ticket. Remove the tiresome and drawn out cat and mouse games the world of subterfuge and manipulative villainy always held. The would have been such a relief; no more running his hand over his hair... he believed he was getting a bald spot if he kept that up.

He had one objection though: the requirement that when entering cartoonish villainy, one should be bedecked in a most garish garb.

Really, he had no objections to the green vest. It was a very nice vest, and the shade was not that far off from the beautiful forest green of his work blazer. But the matching purple suit was in poor taste. The flower in the breast pocket did class it up a little, but that was little consolation since it was one of those gag squirty flowers.

Dressing the part for outlandish cartoon villainy was something he would do on a lark, if he were but a rowdy schoolboy again. Just like crossdressing and re-enacting Monty Python skits. There were only few things that he was willing to give the old college try.

Joseph Carpenter was a big boy now and he needn't have use to dress up like an old maid. No matter how much he missed the feel of apron strings fastened snug around his waist, or the ticklish feeling of a grey wig on the nape of his neck, or the shrill falsetto of asking for more Spam.

Enough of reminiscing for now.

And the make-up.

Really!

Green hair and white face?

His British complexion was pallid enough as it was. He needn't exaggerate it to the point of unhealthiness!

And green hair.

Ridiculous!

Only shabbily safety pinned, anti-imperial, anarchistic punks that listened to The Clash and Sex Pistols would have the horror of green dyed hair.

Indeed, he was no punk. He stopped the line there.

And the maniacal... grinning. Not even a grin, more a carved grimace.

No grinning. Stiff upper lip. That was the British way.

Really.

Outlandish cartoon villainy did not have any redeeming qualities at this point.

"Aw bloody 'ell!"

That was the distinctly familiar voice of his secretary, Wendy.

If she adopted a grossly vulgar Cockney accent instead of her daintily prim London one.

And in fumbled Wendy Earheart in a red and black checkered leotard, complete with the pointed shoes and hat with bells on the end.

"Oi don't know woi you're not complainin' about these dreaded costumes. F'oh the loif of me, Guv'nah J'eh, Oi don't see the point of cartoonish vill'nee if Oi gotta dress up as some Picadilly strumpet! Yuh can see me bosoms bobbin' about! Me mum would be ashamed!" she groused. "Greasepaint! And the greasepaint make-up makes me skin all itchy!"

She executed a few cartwheels and spins with acrobatic grace and poise.

"Though prancin' loike a fairy without bumbling 'bout is a blessing. Oi never knew Oi 'ad it in me! Whaddya think, Guv'nah J'eh?"

Wendy landed on her feet, bells jangling and bos- erm, bells bouncing. Standing in that gymnastic pose with her posture straight, arms in the air, back arched and b- um... bells displayed in such a way that the contrasting red and black squares really stood out.

Joker really wished that he had a sign that with a big 10 on it. The fact that she had not tripped for as long as she had made her presence known to him was quite the occasion that warranted a perfect score.

His gaze appraising his stalwart secretary come vulgar moll. Now he certainly could do without the change in accent, but there was just something so ruggedly appealing about having someone with such a quality under his wing. It gave him hope to mold it right out of her while he conducted her in the ways of evil goings on.

And he could appreciate the utility of the leotard. It allowed freedom of movement and the colour scheme was most distracting so that she could provide a diversion for him as he carried out his evil plans.

He cleared his throat to answer Wendy's query. "Maybe cartoonish villainy does have some finer points. We may not understand them Wendy, but we must respect them."

So he nodded, signalling that he would allow themselves just a few more moments of being in such ridiculous garb before he reverted to the choice of subtle, mechanistic villainy.

Author's Notes: Little parody written way-back-when for the Read Or Die LJ community. Another DC Universe skit, a response to someone's comment about Joker and Wendy's relationship mirroring Joker and Harley... or something like that. Thought I'd dig out this piece, dust it off and give it a bit of a spit-shine, and post it for all to see. The phrase "evil goings on" was borrowed from the comedic fluff genius that is Rhainwen. I begged of it then and I beg of it now: forgiveness for the terrible OOC-ness, eye-bleeding way of writing a Cockney accent, and using a lame Batman joke.