[As we pan down the narrow halls of the criminally insane, cell after cell contains a man or a woman with unique conditions that would be one day curable pending on their reaction to treatment. We find a psychiatrist of the asylum investigating the fifth file...]

Guard: What's with this loon, lady? He's got a file so big, we needed a cart to bring it to you.

Psychiatrist: Well, he's got quite a history.

Guard: Yeah, a history of being a total nutcase!

Psychologist: Actually, Dr. Adams had a different view point. She said that he might have some kind of super-sanity. A condition that, according to her, means that he has now control over his sensory input from the outside world, that he can only cope wth it by simply going with the flow. It would explain why sometimes he's a mischevious clown, and other times he's a murderous psychopath.

Guard: I think he's just insane.

Psychologist: I can't blame you for that. He has the worst track record of every patient we've ever treated. The police have attributed over 2,000 murders to him, as well as over 1,000 counts of assault. There may be more that we DON'T know about. Add in the myriad of other charges he's had brought against him, up to and including war crimes, arson, and abduction, among MANY other things, what we have is possibly the worst criminal in the city, possibly EVER.

Guard: Why don't they just give him a death sentence?

Psychologist: Well, you're not the only one who think's that he's insane. He's ruled 'not guilty due to insanity' every time he goes to court.

Guard: Gotta say, that makes sense. He's definitely not right in the head.

*they approach the proper door and stop*

Guard: ALRIGHT! Open cell #0801!

*a buzzer sounds, and a clicking is heard in the door; the two walk in and see the Joker, strapped up in a straightjacket, sitting in a corner, watching the door, his trademark grin in place*

Joker: Good evening, doctor. It's certainly been a while since we've met in this setting. How goes things?

Psychiatrist: Guard, if you would please unrestrain him; body laguage is very important to my studies.

Guard: Um... Well, alright, but I'm not going to leave until he's back in his 'I-Love-Me' jacket.

Psychiatrist: Very well.

*the guard undoes the buckles and immediately goes to the door; Joker pulls himself out of the jacket*

Joker: Thank you, my good sir. Now, if you'd be so kind as to... smile.

*the psychiatrist turns toward the guard holding a large revolver, and aims it at him; a bronx accent not present before appears in her voice*

Psychiatrist: Nighty-night, copper!

*the psychiatrist fires, showering him in a strange gas*

Psychiatrist: Got'im, Mistah J!

Joker: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

[As we pan out of the asylum, we hear the sound of pain-filled screams and drug-indiced laughter from the guard, which are outmatched only by the sound of the psychiatrist and the Joker laughing at his death's mysery]