The Dark Jester Volume 1: No One Bester

It was a sunny, warm day in Antarctica—the kind of day that just slightly melted the frost on the outer edge of your bones. Come to think of it, this was by far the warmest, brightest, least blizzard-filled day in a long time. It was the kind of weather that could get a guy thinking. However, the Dark Jester was not used to this whole “thinking” thing.

The castle was by far a better place to be than a shallow hole in the snow. Entertaining the Emperor and Empress was just the right job for a guy like him. You know, the type of guy who likes frying pans and snails. Unfortunately, even the Land of the Dead could not tolerate the likes of his antics...

“Out!" the Empress had screamed, looking over the collapsed throne room. Even Jester could not figure out exactly how he managed to bring down the stone walls that had held for hundreds of thousands of years, but he did nonetheless.

Jester put his finger to the lips of his theatrical mask. “By out, do you mean out of the castle, outer space, out and about—”

“You know what? You can just get right out of the Land of the Dead!"

“You mean like, reincarnating or something? Because I was kinda looking forward to wearing diapers again—”

"No! I mean just get out of this land and go aggravate the living! I've had it with you, and I'm not even going to give you the dignity to start over and not be a complete disgrace. You can just go suffer in that miserable, smelly world, and leave this one in peace!"

Jester wasn't sure if the Empress purposely sent him to the coldest place on Earth or if her mirror between worlds had a random option. Regardless, he had made a decent home for himself, carving a mattress and pillow out of snow and adding an ice block to use as a TV. On this bright, sunny day, he could catch the coolest shows, like “Sparkle Sparkle” and “Wavy Lights over Texas.” Perhaps later he'd invite the penguins over to have sno-cones and get pecked for an hour or so. That would be pretty cool.

As "Sparkle Sparkle" started getting into a storyline that was way too cliche (one flash of light had an evil husband that she wouldn't leave until the last ten minutes of the episode,) Jester began to undo his three blue braids tied high upon his head. The only thing more interesting than watching Ice TV was un-braiding and re-braiding hair! He was now averaging four re-braidings per day, except on days "Wavy Lights over Texas" had that hot chick as a guest star.

With all three braids now nice and tight, he looked around to make sure no one would see him and witness what he was about to do. He squinted as he looked behind every snow mound on the horizon. Satisfied that it was completely empty, he removed his mask to give it a good shining.

Even when he was alive, he had a strange fascination with the laughing theatrical mask. When he entered the Land of the Dead, he realized he was just way too beautiful to show his face. It would be uncivilized to cause women to swoon incessantly. No, can't have that. And so he fashioned his own version of that creepy laughing mask, and somehow succeeded in making his just a little bit creepier, yet somehow amusing.

Yes, the Dark Jester was known for his morbid antics that somehow came off as funny to the Imperial Court. When you’ve been ruling over the dead for over a thousand years, these things served as viable entertainment. It was all in good fun really. Still, not everyone appreciated having their arm ripped off so that Jester could do a moving rendition of "Don't Fear the Reaper" on arm-guitar. Then again, some people just need a sense of humor shoved up their rear (occasionally, he'd perform that also, though the recipient was never the same afterward...)

Now he sat all alone with no one to entertain, like a sitcom creator that just had his show moved to Friday nights. As he put the finishing touches on the blue eyebrows of the mask, he heard something out of the norm. It reminded him of late-night sounds after a dinner of beans and White Castle. He did a mental inventory and was sure he had eaten only sno-cones for the past four months. That could only mean the sound was coming from outside.

He poked his head out of his cozy hole and saw a plane land in the distance. Humans! Live ones! With feet and odor, and foot odor! Oh joy of joys! Jester quickly molded a TiVo out of snow and set it to record the rest of "Wavy Lights over Texas."

Jester sprung out of the hole and trudged his way toward the landing strip. He sunk to his thighs with every step, but he knew it would be worth it when he actually was able to converse with...conversing beings once again. He was not a very big fan of speaking penguin, finding it a dry and uninspiring language.

The plane was in the process of being unloaded when the Dark Jester arrived on the scene. “Hi guys! Unpacking, huh?”

The people stopped and just stared at him.

Jester sat back into the snow and started filing his nails. "Yeah, I like to unpack myself when I bring things places. Why, just the other day I went to the beach and packed myself an ice sheet to surf with, some snow for suntan lotion, and—”

"For God's sake, how are you not frozen right now?” said a man in an orange parka that made him look like a fluffy traffic cone.

Jester shrugged. “Meh, the cold doesn’t bother me. I was married once.”

A woman stretched her hand out. “Yeah, but how are you even alive right now? You’re wearing a tie-dye tank top and stretch pants.”

“And boots, don’t forget boots.”

“Boots—it’s minus 25 degrees Fahrenheit right now!”

“Oh I’m not alive. Which makes me wonder where all those sno-cones are going…”

“Who or what are you?" one man asked.

Jester stood. "Who am I? Who am I? The Shogun of Harlem! No, wait, that’s not right. I am..." With a wave of his hands, Jester made a top-hat and cane appear. He popped the hat on his head and struck forward with the cane. He then began to dance in the most hideously cartoonish way one can possibly imagine. "The...Dark Jester! I'm the Dark Jester! No one is bester than the—Dark Jester!"

Stillness remained between the people around the plane. Finally, someone asked, "Did you just say 'bester?’"

"Uh, yeah," Jester replied. "It's a word."

"No it isn't."

Jester stuck his nose up in the air. "Well it can't very well be a fish or a cube or a thought because it came out of my mouth! Therefore it's a word! Whether or not it's in the dic...shun...berry is not my problem! If it comes out of my mouth, it’s a word!"

Another man piped in, "Puke comes out of your mouth. Is it a word?"

Jester dropped his jaw. In all his life, no one had ever asked him something so deeply profound. He scratched his mask as he thought about it.

Finally, the puffy traffic cone reached out to him. “Sir, whatever you are or whoever you are, why don’t you come over here into the station and let us get you warmed up. Maybe get a medical workup while we’re at it? You can’t survive long out there.”

“Oh hey, well if you’re inviting me in to your party, I’m game. But no need for the medical jerkoff or whatever you said. I really am actually dead. See, I got kicked out of Dead World and got stuck here. So now I'm in this weird limbo where I can feel stuff and seem just as alive as you are but like, I don't get affected by stuff. I find it interesting myself. You know, there was this one time…”

As he continued to talk, a woman slipped a warming blanket around him and interrupted just once to ask, “Have you ingested anything besides food lately? Strange plant? LSD? Angel Dust?”

“Nah, never touch the stuff. That will mess up your brain! Anyway, so my grandmother said, ‘Jester, the best thing you could do in a situation like this is eat cheese.’ Well, I told her..."

And so began the strange, wild trip back into the civilized world for the man who once entertained the rulers of the Kingdom of the Dead. And so began the years of therapy it would take for the crew to erase the maddening memories of the nut in three blue braids and his unhealthy obsession with cheese.