Part of a Joker origin story I’m writing. It’s an episode from somewhere in the middle of the story. Give me feedback as to whether or not I’ve got the feel right…

“Why hello there!”
He spun around. Locked door. Windows locked. And yet, a voice in the dark.
“Who…who are you?”
“The question…well, the question isn’t…or rather, shouldn’t be who are you. It should be how are you? Are you happy? Do you have a smile on your face? Now aren’t they much nicer questions?”
“You’re mad!”
“No seriously, I’m not. I’m just happy.”
“Happy. Huh! What do you know about happiness? I was happy once. Really happy…”
“See, that’s the problem with people like you. Happy now, sad a moment later. See, you guys are temperamental. Me, I am constant. Always happy. Can’t you see the smile on my face?”
“I…I can’t see…it’s too dark…”
“Tchch tchch…my bad! Of course you can’t. Let me enlighten you.”
And he took a step. The gentle moonlight streamed through the window and onto his face, giving it a sickly pallor.
“You…you’ve got…”
“Yeah I do. Don’t you just love what I’ve done with my face? You wanna know how I got this smile?”
He didn’t answer.
“Well I’ll tell you anyway. It’s simple-I hung onto a happy memory. My happiest. Unlike you, of course! And then, I decided to etch it forever into my memory. Or rather, my face…you know what that memory was? It was of my stepfather. Dead. I killed, and I was really happy…!”
He gave him a disgusted look.
“Why so serious? Well, let me guess…you obviously don’t agree with my idea of happiness, now, do you? Well, no problems, you’re entitled to your own opinion…as I’m entitled to my own. You wanna know what I think? I think I need to put a smile on that face of yours. You know, bring some happiness to your sorry existence. Don’t worry, I’m tonight’s entertainment. Oh, and, I think you should try and remember your happiest memory. So, tell me, what makes you happy? What makes you smile?”
“My…my wife, ” he said with a glimmer of a smile. “She left me. Broke my heart….”
“Ho ho. Haha, he ha. Ha ha. Ha. Haha. And I thought my jokes were bad.”
“You, you find this funny?”
“Well, not exactly funny. More ironic, than funny.”
“Ironic?!”
“Well, yeah. Don’t you think it’s kind of ironic that here you are moping about life’s wee sadness when life itself is about to end?”
“What…what do you mean?”
“This.”
And then the man in purple pulled out the revolver and shot him. He died instantly. With a smile on his face. Probably, remembering his wife…

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