Joker and Spider-Man parted ways.
On a night of torrential rain, Joker vanished alone into the darkness at the end of the street, like a silent man burdened with countless tragic tales.
Mostly because Joker really had no idea what an acceptance speech from Gotham's friendly neighborhood hero was supposed to include, so he decided, painfully, to leave the award to Spider-Man alone.
Well, actually, it was because Spider-Man was just too annoying. His whole style was completely at odds with this quiet, reserved city. Not only did he want to talk to Joker every second of every minute, but when Joker failed to respond, he simply started telling his own stories.
Joker had excellent endurance. Just imagine him as a crazier version of Batman: he possessed every trait Batman had, including formidable willpower. He could endure anything in pursuit of his goals.
He had planned to wait until Spider-Man ran out of things to say and naturally fell silent, but who could have guessed that Spider-Man's brief dozen-odd years of life contained thousands upon thousands of endless stories?
When Spider-Man had nearly exhausted every minute detail of his own life and started recounting Aunt May and Uncle Ben's life stories, Joker knew that patience without results was meaningless.
And Spider-Man was not merely telling these stories to Joker.
Whenever a bicycle lay toppled by the roadside, he would lecture it about how careless parking violated public order and might trip pedestrians or even crush pet dogs to death.
Whenever someone carried something heavy upstairs, he would teach them how to exert force through their waist without injuring their muscles, and which leg should bear their center of gravity to make climbing easier.
Whenever a rooftop drainpipe dripped, he would hammer away at it while explaining gravity's potential energy and