Tue, 8 Jun 1999
Kaylee skaya@mindspring.com
[Joker] In the Land of the Sane 1/1

They're DC's. No money. Don't sue.

I know I've still got tons of mail to answer, and MUCHO thanks to all of you who were kind enough to respond to my first foray into DC, "My Daddy's Hero." I'll be getting to your mail soon, but this little bit of weirdness came to me after reading "Arkham Asylum," and I wanted to get it OUT of my head where I didn't have to think about it anymore. ;-)

Comments to skaya@mindspring.com.


In the Land of the Sane

Kaylee

 

I'm sane, you're sane, we're all sane, for I'm sane!

This land we live in has a name. Did you know that? It does. A lovely name.

Sane. Our home is called Sane.

We're at home in this land called Sane.

We're in Sane.

Hee hee...

You're here, too. Did you know that? I think you know it, but you don't want to know it. You don't want to know the name of this glorious land. You want to believe there's a world outside of Sane, where you and little girls with pigtails and men in suits live. You want to live out of Sane.

I've seen what those men in suits do to the little girls with pigtails. I think the girls would rather live in Sane, actually. In Sane with me and all my dear friends.

It's easier here. Safer. More sane, here in Sane.

HAH!

I think I lived outside once. Before The Day -- that grand, glorious day when I packed all my belongings and made The Move. Of course, I had no belongings, but that's not what's important. The only thing that matters here is what you find once you move. Once you've settled. Once you see the splendiferous wildlife we have here.

In Sane.

You flap your wings to fly above us, but the sky is still part and parcel of this place, this land, this home, this...

This me place.

I issue an invitation. To everyone. Everywhere. I'm a generous monarch, you have to admit. Join me, one and all! Come live and bow and die in Sane! Pay tribute to the lord of the world!

It's all a great joke, you see. Everything outside of Sane. It's so funny when you look at it, isn't it? Those hard hands purpling up the skin of perfect little angels. Crying angels. Angels don't cry in Sane.

They shed their wings, they sharpen their teeth, but they don't cry.

Unless I tell them to.

You belong here. What kind of man dresses up like a bat? What kind of man spends his night as a little flying monkey? What kind of man thinks he can make the evening commute to Sane for work, then go home every morning to that flat, two-dimensional world outside?

Why, only a man who belongs with us, of course!

Tee hee hee!

Belongs in Sane.

With us.

With me.

You come closer every night. More obsessed. I only want to free you from your obsession! Free you, free everyone! Save 'em all, that's what I say! Save 'em all and let God sort 'em out!

Wait, that's not right...

Or is it?

In my land, what I say is right is right. And I say I'm right. Always!

The national anthem should be rewritten! "O-oh, say can you SEEEEE... by the dawn's smoggy LIIIGHT... what so PROUDLY we NAILED... at the twilight's last dreaming...! And the rocket's red stare! The bombs bursting in hair! Gave PROOF through the NIIIGHT... that our land was still THERE!"

Here.

Everywhere!

Around you, within you, within me.

Where I am. A little bit of the grand Fool inside every thinking, rational brain. My genius, shared unselfishly among the lesser creatures of the world! Magnanimous Rex! My new name. I'll adopt it and print it on three dollar bills, I will. They'll become the currency all the way through this land!

My land.

You want it, don't you?

My place.

You know you belong.

My people.

Gallivanting around night after night to the tune of Mary Had A Little Lamb-Chop. Feeding mutton to all the pretty little Marys. No one goes hungry! Everyone eats!

No one leaves.

Ever.

Not you.

Not me.

No one.

This land is a trap, and I oh-so-very-much want to escape.

... or... not...

Heh heh...

That world beyond here. It can't last. It spat me out the last time I was there, so I really feel that I should rip its nose off with my teeth and bring its eyes back with me to live here. Pretty little eyes, all alone without their meat-sacks holding them.

Do eyes wear hats, when they're not attached to a cumbersome body?

Let's find out.

Any volunteers?

No?

Hats are ugly anyway. Better to let natural beauty shine through, right? Hair of green and skin of white and lips of blood. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

I tried to dye it, once, but...

Dye doesn't take.

Here.

It's only our true faces we show.

Here.

It's only our two faces... right Harvey?

Or our straw faces... or our icy faces... or our...

Masks.

Which are true.

You know it. Your mask is you. You are your mask. Everything you were before is... gone.

Swallowed by the hungry bat.

One day you'll see how it grows, swells, bloats. One day you'll see that you don't guide it anymore... if you ever did.

And it'll bring you right here to me.

To my home.

My land.

My kingdom.

And I'll welcome you with wiiide arms! My newest subject!

Chee hee...

Join me, Batsy. I'll even give you your own city! We know you've earned it, fighting every night to make your way here, being dragged away every morning by that cruel, twisted sun.

Just remember that we'll always have a bunk reserved for you.

You'll always have a home.

Here.

In Sane.

In

Sane.


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