Money on the Table

Look, man, I know you
Been working hard, but we are
Going to need a lot

More out of you. I
Know, you want to know the “why?”
You always do, and

That’s alright. But here’s
The thing: it doesn’t fucking
Matter what you want.

Got it? It doesn’t.
I know, I know. You worked your
Ass off to get here.

Everybody did.
You gave up hopes and dreams to
Do this. Sacrifice,

Man, come on. To make
A thing holy, you gotta
Give it up. That’s all.

You’re where you are now
Because you did what others
Wouldn’t. Not couldn’t.

Wouldn’t. Felt like an
Idiot for years with a
Bunch of guys who are

Younger than you, know
A lot more, look better, and
They’re already rich.

What have you got? The
Ability to suffer. That’s
Right. They’re complaining

About why they can’t do
It, and you’re out there doing
It! So what, so what,

You’re stuck now. Study
Another year, because the
Virus cancelled your boards.

Big shit. Who cares? It
Will make you better. Stronger.
Some of the staff talk

Shit about you. What
Are they going to do? They
Took their shot at you

Already and it
Missed. They took what they could, and
You got the better

Deal. You beat them with
Knowledge: disability.
They are required

By law to help you,
To accommodate you and
Demonstrate what they

Did. And you told ‘em,
You’d take ‘em to court. Guess what.
They haven’t done shit.

What have you got that
They’ll never have? Brass balls. You
Get it done, man. No

Reason to get all
Discouraged. You have your one
Golden ticket to

Learn whatever the
Fuck you want for eight more months
And then you’re in your

Country estate. You
Made a billion fucking notes,
Flashcards, mnemonics

Already for this
Shit. You just gotta get that
Shit back out and put

It in regular
Rotation. Fucking go to
The mattresses, like

The Corleone’s.
You know why you liked mobsters
So much? You wanted

A family. Backup.
A fucking crew. Guess what? You
Got a huge fucking

Army out there. They all
Want you to beat this shit, get
The fuck out of there,

And start your fucking
Empire. So come on, man. Hem
Up your vagina.

It’s sticking out of
Your pant leg right now. Let’s get
Back out there, and rule

This fucking hell week!
It’s not over, it’s never
Fucking over! Yes!

Joker’s Logic

If you no longer
Wished to play this game, a text
Would have sufficed. “Hey,

Joe, I am picking
You up, back to Arkham.” You
Didn’t have to bust

Down the walls of my
Compound, interrogate my
Henchmen, brutalize

My poor sweet Harley,
That’s my job! Only joking.
I’d lose my head if

She wasn’t around.
Ha. I will admit that I
Crossed boundaries. It’s

In my nature. Did
I shoot Batgirl in the
Spine, strip her nude and

Sodomize her? Did
I torture Gordon with the
Photos of this crime?

You point the finger
At me, but I know you were
Eventually

Going to do the
Exact same thing, except with
Less panache. I just

Beat you to it, like
I beat old Jason to death.
Same thing, I know you

Thought about it, when
You watched the little jerk. I
See the pistol in

Your hand, and I fear
You’ll do something rash. Please let
Me speak, I am known

To be quite lucid
In times of stress. Batman does
Not kill, every kid

Knows that. So if you
Pull that trigger, the bullet
Goes both ways. Joker

Dies, but so does Bats,
And I’ve grown rather fond of
You, my dear Bruce Wayne.

Please believe I can
Reform; if I am redeemed,
There is hope for you.