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FIC: A Bad Joke (Black Donnellys)
Title: A Bad Joke
Characters/Pairings: Joanie (Joanie/Jimmy, Joanie/Whitey, Jimmy/Jenny, Jenny/Tommy)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, drug use, allusions to sex, weird style choices
Word Count: 694
Spoiler alert: through "When The Door Opens"
Summary: Joanie loves Jimmy. Joanie is a junkie. Joanie is not stupid.
Author’s Notes: Unbetaed. Weird. Concrit welcomed with enthusiastic applause. It's nearing on finals week, which of course means that I'm writing fic instead of studying or getting caught up on homework. Somehow I seem to have found myself in love with Joanie. I think I have an issue with falling in love with the Donnellys' girls. Except for Jenny, who I am still not convinced of.

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

Boy meets girl, girl likes boy. Typical, right? Every love story ever.

Girl fucks up, and so does he. Maybe she fucks up first, maybe he does; nobody remembers anymore.

The point is they fuck each other up.

That's not the punch line.


Jimmy Donnelly didn't get Joanie into drugs. Neither was he the reason she stayed with the drugs instead of getting clean like her sister begged, every time they talked. Jimmy Donnelly brought her drugs sometimes, but when he didn't come through she had her own ways of getting her hands on a stash.

Her reasons were clear. Uncomplicated.

When Joanie was high, she was happy. It was that simple.

Everything went away. The dump she lived in. The late rent. The jobs she couldn't hold. The guys she hated. The people who hated her.

Everything went away, except for Joanie, and the sweetness of a good high, and Jimmy, always Jimmy. The world went smooth and happy, and she could pretend that Jimmy loved her as much as she loved him.


Knock, knock.

Who's there?


Nobody who?


Whitey used to say things. Meaningless words, like I love you and let's go away together and forget Jimmy, he doesn't love you like I do.

She didn't care what he said, as long as he gave her the good shit.

Heroin, yeah; cook it just right, fill the syringe, slide the needle in, and let the world go away.

And when the high was good enough, she stopped hearing Whitey, and it was Jimmy's voice crooning I love you, baby, let's run away and get the fuck away from New York


Jimmy and Whitey walk into a room.

One of them walks out.

That's not the punch line.


So she didn't graduate high school. That didn't make Joanie stupid.

She knew the score.

Whitey said he loved her, but Whitey was an idiot, he didn't know which way was up half the time.

She knew she loved Jimmy. That was the one constant that remained regardless of what happened.

Jimmy never said, but an awful lot of times the name he called during sex sounded less like Joanie and more like Jenny. Besides, everybody loved Jenny; and sometimes Joanie hated her for that, but more often she was just fucking jealous.

Jenny loved Tommy, everybody knew that. And Tommy loved Jenny. Even if things were too screwed-up for the two of them to ever admit it.

Joanie knew, but when the needle slid into her arm and the world went into soft-focus, she could pretend that Jimmy's slurred voice really was moaning her name, and that everybody loved who they were damn well supposed to love.


How many junkies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Three; Jimmy to screw Joanie and screw over Whitey; and then Tommy can fix the lightbulb, because what the fuck do junkies need with a lamp, anyway?


Jimmy never said, but Joanie knew about Bob the Mouth.

Jimmy never said, but Joanie knew about Jenny.

Jimmy never said, but Joanie knew about Whitey.

Jimmy never said, but Joanie knew about it all.

Jimmy never said, but Joanie knew.


A blonde walks into a bar.

There are four brothers in the bar, one two three four: the junkie, the artist, the gambler, the baby.

The blonde says, "I love you," to one of the brothers.

None of them answer.


She woke up, hungover and cotton-mouthed, and found Joanie ♥ Jimmy written on her thigh in black Sharpie, in her own handwriting, and the bed empty next to her.


If two young people pass out together in the hallway of her apartment building from a really nice high, and the cops can track the knife, how much is bail?


Her sheets were stiff with something dark brownish-red.

She threw them out.


Here's the punch line.

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

She doesn't know why she loves him and sometimes she hates herself for it, but she loves him anyway.

Even with blood staining his hands and clothes.

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Joanie's awesome, I'm in love with her and her gravely voice. :D

Thank you so much! It means a lot to me, I'm thrilled you think I wrote her well.

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