I Am a Cobblepot
"I'll have you know, sir, I am a Cobblepot. And Cobblepots do not... serve!"
I have made up my mind. I, Oswald Cobblepot, will do whatever I can in order to restore my family's name to the glory it once was. Rumors abound that my family had to leave England in order to avoid facing the shame of having squandered their fortune.
Now, however, I sit in a cell in Arkham Asylum. The nut-house. The mental institution for those super-villains who were once normal, ordinary people before something (usually a traumatic experience) happened to make them snap in their minds and suddenly go around the twist. It was the very place I'd escaped a few seconds after the Joker, who is one of those people I dislike with a passion, made his escape.
If there's one thing I never do, it's interfere with the Joker when he has one of his "Gas all of Gotham" schemes. Why? Because it is, as I'd explained to him one night (and when he was trying to be the Batman for some reason, no doubt), 'professional courtesy'. And that's something I have taken a liking to as well. After all, even we villains are supposed to have standards, anyway - or at least, I do.
"The eggs, Penguin - or I scramble you," the Joker, wearing a Batman costume, said.
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you out of your gourd?" I hissed in reply. "I am in the middle of a heist! You don't see me barging in on your 'Gas All of Gotham' schemes, do you? It is called 'professional courtesy'!"
"Sorry, Pengie. But bringing down Gotham's second-biggest criminal means my biggest bounty yet."
I was surprised at first. Then I replied, "Second-biggest? Says who?"
Well, now that I think about it, I think that Joker was definitely up to something then. He always was, even though we crossed paths more than once, too.