Arthur was a poor speller, and his left-handed writing was even worse. Maybe they had accidentally spelled clown as crown. And Thomas Wayne had also used the term clown on television, so he had Murray introduce himself as Joker.
Though "adults" could sometimes look rather foolish, Joker did not read Hamlet. He was a comedian who had always studied how to tell jokes that made people laugh.
Hamlet was a tragedy. Even after he had killed all his enemies, he was no longer that optimistic, passionate young man.
Hamlet had once asked: to be or not to be.
But that was not the question.
When Hamlet spoke those lines, he was struggling inside. He knew the beautiful Ophelia had been sent by the King to test him, and he also knew the King had murdered his father. He pretended to be consumed by love so the King would not see him as a threat, preparing for the day he would assassinate him. Yet when the moment came to act, he hesitated.
He had tested the King and his mother, and he deeply suspected them, but he had no solid evidence—only the testimony of a ghost.
Did people really become ghosts after death? Or had it merely been his hallucination? Or perhaps he had dreamed it?
When we had shuffled off this mortal coil, what dreams might come in that sleep of death was enough to make us pause and hesitate.
That was why people willingly remained trapped in suffering for so long. Who would endure the whips and scorn of the world, the tyrant's oppression, the arrogant man's contempt, the agony of scorned love, the law's delay, the insolence of officials, and the disdain of petty men earned through painstaking labor, when he could settle his life's account with a