#alt!black reader

He hated working weekends. Sure the tips were good and it got him out of the house. No, Joker hated working weekends because obnoxious parties like yours always came in making his job a nightmare.

Why did people eat at establishments like this? Grady’s sounds exactly like what’s on the menu.

Cheap, greasy, questionable food—all available 24/7 in an old, all-American diner setting.

There was no vegan options. No low carb either. And definitely no substitutions—at least not on Joker’s shift, that is. He loathed being a server at Grady’s just as much as he hated the customers that came in thinking they were superior to food workers.

Were people really dumb enough to anger the person handling their food? Why yes, they were.

Joker thoroughly enjoyed tampering with rude customers’ food that he made it into a side-hobby. Snooty soccer moms, cringeworthy Karen’s, pompous CEO’s, and dozens of other stereotypes all fell mysteriously ill under Joker’s food recommendations.

‘Oh, our daily plate is to die for.’

‘Everyone raves about our pies.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s on the house..’

Joker plastered a fake smile each time he delivered a meal to a customer. In twenty-four hours, they’ll be dead.

Now he wasn’t randomly killing people. Joker let them get addicted to Grady’s slop to gain their trust as he ran an background check. Only after he judged them as a poor human being, would he deliver the final blow.

Revenge was best served piping hot, in his opinion.

His manager was none the wiser that his picture-perfect server was secretly.. openly.. poisoning people.

The chefs were in on it. The waitresses looked the other way. Some even threw Joker knowing looks as if to say, “Here’s another victim for ya.”

Another rude, heartless person gone from the world, was Joker’s justified reasoning. He only targeted people who genuinely deserved it. He was.. making Gotham a better place!

Which brough him standing in front of your table—awaiting a response to his question of “whaddya want?”

Joker automatically hated this group.

Half the table were staring at the sticky menus, trying to decipher the options available whereas the rest ignored him completely to talk amongst themselves.

Joker heard one guy mutter that the calorie count wasn’t listed on the menu. A girl hissed behind her hand, no doubt, badmouthing Joker about something else.

He heard “so not getting a tip..” and rolled his eyes.

So many victims…. yet his train of thought derailed when he heard your voice.

“Hi! How are you? I’ll have the Fat Boy burger with all the fixings. Oh and heavy on the fries, please if you can.” You met Joker’s green eyes and smiled.

Joker was torn. He already planned on poisoning the entire table but now he couldn’t bring himself to harm you.

Your sweet nature saved you, although you looked quite the opposite. Joker admired your alt aesthetic in intrigue. You stuck out like a sore thumb amongst your friends.

You were the only one who acknowledged him. The only one to smile and say please. You treated him like a person and bonus points—you collected the menus after each person ordered. This was a first.

No. He couldn’t kill you. So, Joker had to improvise. “We’re uh.. out of beef.”

“Seriously, what restaurant runs out of food?” The same girl from earlier mumbled. Joker was adding an extra dose of poison into her milkshake…

The setback didn’t deter you. With a pout you replied, “Oh, well can you surprise me with whatever you’d eat? I’m not picky.”

I wouldn’t eat anything in this place. Joker thought. He’d have to have a long talk with Ruddy in the kitchen. Do. Not. Tamper. With. Your. Plate. You deserved extra fries indeed.

Joker walked off without a word but he heard you scolding your friends as he left.

“He’s just doing his job and you idiots were being so rude! Oh yes we are leaving a tip Jessica! $40!”

Joker found himself smirking. Perhaps there was still good people in the world. A shame about your friends though.