With a crash, the shattered wooden door fell to the ground, kicking up dust and splinters.
The merchant sprawled on the floor trembled as he tried to get up, but his legs were as limp as mush. His soaked crotch nearly made him cry.
But Joker was not an unreasonable man. He twisted open a door that did not exist and walked in, then slammed it shut behind him as though he were performing a pantomime.
Joker tilted his head back and took a deep breath, then lowered it with a smile. "What wonderful air!" As he spoke, he took another sniff through his nose.
This time, though, he inhaled some wood chips and started coughing. "How awful. This smells worse than ashes."
"Oh, right, let's shake hands!" Joker said with a grin, extending his hand toward the ruined merchant sprawled on the floor.
The merchant was trembling so badly that he could not even raise a hand. His face was pale and weak, like his father had just died, which bored Joker immensely.
He did not like such serious expressions. People ought to smile more. So he dug two pairs of pliers out of his trouser pockets.
The pliers were covered in rust. He had forgotten where he had gotten them, but that did not matter.
"Hey, buddy, smile. Why so serious?"
Joker clamped the pliers onto both corners of the merchant's mouth and, amid the merchant's screams and the sound of flesh tearing, pulled them apart into a wide grin.
The merchant lay face down on the floor, clutching his face and screaming as blood streamed through his fingers. Joker shook his head helplessly and casually tossed the pliers aside. Some people simply could not accept their true selves.
Humming an unrecognizable tune, Joker walked farther inside. It