Boughs of Folly: Bullseye!

“The only thing worse than a Bullseye is a Super Bullseye,” Siren grumbled following Jonathan Crane into the cheerful red automatic doors. “Why are we here again?”

“We have no food and its on the way,” he replied, grabbing a basket and handing it to her. “Just try not to look at anyone,” he sighed. “And keep this hat on.” He stuffed her toboggan down on her head, hiding the spiky white locks.

“Uggh…” Siren groaned, rolling her eyes and walking away. “I’ll be in the wine section.” She left him standing in the middle of the frozen food aisle contemplating rising crust pizzas. The aisles were packed and it seemed that everywhere Siren wanted to be, some woman with fifteen small, screaming children and a cart twice the size of the store itself was stacked in front of her. She knew it was Christmas, but damn…she just wanted to get her shit and get out.

The store was packed with people driving bright red carts through the narrow aisles. Some obnoxious pop singer squawked out “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” over the constant drone of customer service announcements. Huge jewel-toned ornaments hung from the ceiling with catchy slogans like “’Tis the season to save…” or “Deck the halls…” Siren groaned as she walked past the wreckage of the toy aisle. She could hear some child throwing a temper tantrum over an expensive set of Legos.

“Darling, Santa Claus is coming in a few days.”

“I don’t wanna wait!” the kid wailed.

“No,” the mother sighed exasperatedly. “You’re just going to have to.”

This reply sent the kid into a fit of hysterics unmatched by anyone outside a mental institution. He laid down in the aisle and kicked and screamed. His mother flushed with embarrassment as she tried to pull the child to his feet. In an effort to thrash away from his mother, he thrashed himself right into a whole display of action figures which fell in a rain of plastic over the boy, his mother, Siren and a couple of unsuspecting shoppers. “No no no no! I want my legos!”

Before anyone could react, the kid was hoisted to his feet by the collar of his shirt. The child’s eyes were wide as he found himself hovering over the floor and staring into the face of Gotham’s own Clown Prince. “Knock it off, kid, before I make you eat one of these glass ornaments through your nostrils.” The kid’s mouth snapped shut and he held his breath.

“Uhmm… drop the kid, sweets… you’re scaring the norms.” Harley Quinn appeared from behind the next aisle and tugged at his sleeve. “He’s just a kid.” She glanced at Siren and they exchanged looks of amusement. The Joker dropped the kid with an audible plop to the tile floor. But on the bright side, the kid did stop screaming.

The terrified mother and son slowly slinked away, unable to take their eyes off of them. Harley, clad in the black and red catsuit for which she was recognized, led The Joker away, cooing into his ear and looking back over her shoulder guiltily at Siren. “Calm down, love. We just have to stop and pick up some stuff. Let‘s try not to make a scene--”

“You know how I hate this--”

“Oh come on… you had fun throwing that fruitcake. Admit it.”

He rolled his eyes as they turned down another aisle. “The thrill of beaning innocent bystanders with a brick of Christmas cheer was… entertaining at best. But this place looks like Santa Claus threw up all over it. That kid back there? He was just the beginning. Pretty soon they’ll be crawling all over the place, with their screaming and squealing and that weird smell---”

“What smell are you talking about?” Harley looked confused.

“All kids smell. They smell like… bubblegum and assholes…”

She giggled. “I happen to like children,” she purred. “Maybe one day---”

“Not even in your wildest, coma- dream,” he snarled.

***********************************************

“I don’t know half of these people, Alfred. How am I supposed to buy them all Christmas presents?” Bruce Wayne groaned as the other man handed him another roll of wrapping paper.

“They work for you, Master Wayne. It would be bad form not to get them something.”

“I need to get a secretary to do these things for me.”

“But I already have a job--”

“Funny.” The two men turned when a sudden commotion started in the corner of the store. Droves of people began running towards the electronics section, shouting and pushing. Bruce and Alfred looked at each other and started towards the noise. A round little lady got pushed over by the onslaught of crazed shoppers ahead of them. She tried to struggle to her feet, but other shoppers were running over her as if they couldn’t even see. Bruce dropped the wrapping paper and ran over, pushing shoppers aside and pulling the woman to her feet.
“Are you alright?” he started to say in the growly Batman voice.

“I’m fine, sweetheart-- is there something wrong with your voice?”

“Oh… no…” he stammered, realizing that he wasn’t wearing the costume. “Why are all of these people running this way?”

“Apparently the store just got a truck with five Nintendo Wiis. I just wanted to get one for my grandson. But I don’t think it’s worth all this.”

“Well--” Bruce stopped short when he saw a flash of red and black run past the aisle of Hannah Montana DVDs. “Excuse me…” he said distractedly and moving past her, leaving Alfred behind to pick up the mess of wrapping paper he’d dropped.

The black and red blur looked strangely familiar, he thought as he rounded the bakeware aisle. She wasn’t wearing the hat, but he could tell from the blonde pigtails and skin tight costume decorated with black and red diamonds, that it was Harley Quinn. And where there was Harley Quinn, he’d most likely find The Joker. At the Super Bullseye?

“Do you use candied pineapple or dried pineapple?” Harley asked herself, looking down at the two cans in either hand. Bruce walked up behind her and stared over her shoulder.

“Problems?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah… I’m making fruitcake and I’m not sure which to use.”

“Haven’t you made it before?” he asked.

“Yeah, silly. But last time I didn’t put pineapple in it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s just say my boyfriend doesn’t like pineapple.” She turned and smiled sweetly, instantly recognizing him. “Hey… you’re Bruce Wayne!”

“Most of the time.” He raised his eyebrow in that coy rich boy way. “But I think it would be better to use candied pineapple. You know… sweeter.”

“You know… I think you’re right,” she bubbled, throwing the dried pineapple bits aside. “Thanks!” she shouted over her shoulder as she skipped off towards the Christmas decorations. He let her get a few yards away before he started stalking her.

Harley hummed to herself as she continued down the aisle, tossing things into the basket she’d hooked over one arm. As she turned the corner, she realized that she’d wandered into an aisle packed with Christmas ornaments. Snowflakes, glass Santas, tinsel, and plastic reindeer hung from every hook in the wall. She smiled with a childlike wonder as she touched each ornament carefully. And then. She saw it. A large glass ornament hung at the very top of an endcap. It was a male pierrot, dressed in black and white, holding a snowflake in the palm of his hand. Harley reached out to touch the delicate glass when a woman pushed her aside, grabbing the ornament from under her careful fingertips.

“Hey!” Harley shouted, turning around fast to stare angrily at the woman. “I was looking at that!”

“Looking isn’t buying, sweetheart! I need that ornament for my tree!”

“But I saw it first!” Harley narrowed her eyes in an evil glare and snatched the ornament out of the woman’s hand.

“Look, lady. I have a tree that is done all in black and white. I need this ornament!” she screeched, snatching the ornament back from Harley.

“Do I look like I care, ya stupid cow?!” Harley threw herself at the woman, tackling her as she grabbed for the small glass figurine. The two women rolled around in the floor, each one grabbing for the ornament as it narrowly escaped shattering into a million pieces on the tile floor. Harley jumped to her feet, having snatched the object of her desire, and started running towards the front, completely forgetting the basket she’d left behind. But the other woman wouldn’t be thwarted so easily. She grabbed Harley’s ankle and sent her reeling into the display of pre-lit fake Christmas trees. There was a domino effect as the trees fell over one by one into the display of snow globes, spilling water and plastic snowflakes all over the floor.

The woman jerked Harley’s ankle, pulling her back towards her in an attempt to get to the ornament still clutched in her hands. Harley rolled to her back and kicked with her other foot, connecting with the woman’s jaw and knocking her back. A crowd that included Jonathan Crane, Siren, Bruce Wayne and Alfred had gathered around the catfight in the middle of the Christmas section.

“Should we do something, Master Wayne?”

“Like what? Sell tickets?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of throwing dollar bills--” Crane mumbled from the back of the crowd.

With a growl of pure rage, Harley grabbed a string of tinsel from around one of the ruined fake trees and wrapped it around the other shopper’s neck. “Gimme the ornament, bitch!” she shouted, pulling back on the tinsel rope.

“Get bent, blondie!”

“It’s not fair! I saw it first!” Harley didn’t realize that the tinsel she was currently using to strangle her opponent was near breaking. And when it did, it sent her stumbling backwards into the mess of snow globe juice. Her feet slid out from under and she sat down hard on the tile floor in front of a pair of purple wingtips.

“What was that you were saying before about causing a scene?”