He would have come up with a better name, probably something in Latin, but seeing that Apollo was filling out a patent form for the same God of Jokes position, he had to rush. And so for all eternity the deity of humor would have to be “the Joker.” It’s made him the butt of many jokes since; Vulcan frequently asks if he should have named himself “the Armorer,” or Helios “the Sunner.”
His treatment around Olympus has driven the Joker into a permanent bad mood. Taking queues from the Old Testament (which was new when he got this job, and which he considers a reliable handbook for the job), he persecutes his divine competition. Unlike any entities in his handbook, though, his targets could just as easily be represented in a temple as in a nightclub that hosts stand-up. His competition is not just the divine, but all sources of entertainment. He’s razed far more places of amusement than holy sites – possibly out of fear of reprisal from gods, since reprisal from the investors behind Disneyland or the Kentucky Derby are less intimidating.
The biggest snafu so far came from destroying a waterslide park in the Middle East. He thought reducing the place to so much lava and pumice was a good gag. Ironic. The local animistic deities disagreed and the God of Jokes was beset by a hundred thousand immortal flies that cannot be swatted.
In a show of devotion to the craft, rather than seeking vengeance on his competition, the Joker is avidly seeking the license for these flies. He considers their potential in practical jokes to be limitless.
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