Jonathan woke up, momentarily confused about why his alarm hadn't gone off. Then he remembered it was Saturday - thankfully a day free from work and the inevitable embarrassment his coworkers would have undoubtedly tried to inflict on him for his birthday.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Jonathan sighed in relief. The last few birthdays had involved rather traumatic surprises - the Chuck E. Cheese fiasco, that horrendous scavenger hunt, and least forgettable of all, the mud wrestling match somehow orchestrated by Bruce Wayne himself.

Jonathan shuddered at the memory. But not today. Today would be peaceful and uneventful, just the way he liked it.

After a quick shower, Jonathan made himself eggs and toast for breakfast. He settled into his armchair, enjoying the quiet Saturday morning with a book in hand.

Around 11am, the doorbell abruptly disrupted his solitude. To his dismay, Joker and Harley Quinn stood on his doorstep holding a large bundle of colored balloons.

"Happy birthday, Johnny boy!" crowed the Joker, grinning beside a bouncing, pig-tailed Harley Quinn.

Jonathan clenched his jaw, prepared to firmly shut the door on whatever nonsense they undoubtedly planned to drag him into. But Joker stuck out a purple-gloved hand to halt its closing.

"Just wait till you hear the good news!" the clown cajoled. "Brucie saw how rotten your last few birthdays turned out. So he's lending us his big fancy mansion and bankrolling an entire party in your honor to make up for it!"

Jonathan simply stared, arms folded across his chest.

Joker nudged his sullen companion. "C'mon Harl, help me out here!"

"That's right, Mistah J!" Harley chimed in. She executed an awkward pirouette, nearly tangling herself in the bundle of balloons. "Brucie's gonna make everything up to ya with the swankiest party Gotham's ever seen!"

Jonathan arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And why would a billionaire waste his time and money on me?"

"Why, because it's the polite thing to do among high society!" Joker proclaimed. He crooked his arm as if escorting an invisible partner. "Picture this grand ballroom filled with Gotham's crème de la crème."

Harley snatched Jonathan's arm, waltzing him in a quick circle. "All the ladies will be in glittery gowns..." she gave an exaggerated wink.

Jonathan wrenched his arm away with a huff. But the Joker continued theatrically setting the scene. "The band strikes up a waltz! The champagne flows freely! And the cuisine..." He kissed his fingertips. "Magnifique! Tiny quiches like you've never seen!"

Despite himself, Jonathan found the scenario enticing. Perhaps it was possible Bruce sincerely meant to welcome him into high society...

"So whaddya say, Johnny boy?" Joker extended a gloved hand with an eager grin. "Ready for the most elegant birthday bash you've ever laid eyes on?"

Against his better judgment, Jonathan reluctantly agreed to attend. He didn't trust them one bit, but even Bruce Wayne surely wouldn't stoop to further embarrassing him...right?

___

Joker and Harley led Jonathan up the winding drive to Bruce's mansion. There was not a decoration in sight. “Good,” thought Jonathan. “Perhaps this wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.”

But as Joker led him inside and threw open the door to the dining room with a "Ta-daaa!" Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape.

Inside, a nightmarish scene lay before him. Paw Patrol banners and balloons bedecked the walls. A huge pile of presents sat on a table, wrapped in colorful cartoon-themed paper with images of Paw Patrol characters, princesses, and superheroes. At the table, over two dozen children craned their necks to see the new arrival.

"Surprise!" they yelled. "Happy birthday!"

Bruce himself appeared then, an infuriating grin stretched across his face. "Happy birthday, Jonathan! So glad you could make it."

Numbly, Jonathan allowed himself to be led to the head of the table. He sank into the seat, barely registering Bruce tapping his champagne flute for attention.

"Since this wonderful party is underwritten by Wayne Enterprises charitable fund, I really should say a few words," the billionaire began with a press-ready grin.

As cameras flashed from attendant press happy to indulge Gotham's favorite son in this puzzling endeavor, Wayne gestured grandly in Jonathan's cringing direction.

"None of this would be possible without the guest of honor of course, Dr. Jonathan Crane, renowned psychologist and humanitarian who selflessly dedicates himself to understanding the criminal psyche for the good of all Gotham.”

A smattering of applause followed this gross mischaracterization as Jonathan attempted fruitlessly to shield his face.

“And so today I am overjoyed not only celebrate Jonathan’s birthday, but also to announce the launch of the newly-founded Dr. Jonathan C. Crane Child Psychology Center for Troubled Youth - fully funded by Wayne Enterprises for all its operational needs in perpetuity.”

Mouth falling open in dumbfounded dismay as cameras flashed blindingly around him yet again, Jonathan missed most of the speech as Wayne continued extolling his own company’s stunning generosity in endowing a pediatric therapy clinic in Jonathan's unwilling name.

After Bruce concluded his speech to smiling press and cheering children, he clapped Jonathan on the back. "And now, who's ready for some cake and ice cream!"

The kids erupted in deafening squeals of delight as an enormous Paw Patrol cake was wheeled out, the candles flickering atop its thickly frosted surface. Jonathan gazed forlornly at the pre-sliced sheet cake, so lacking in elegance or refinement.

"Blow out the candles!" The children chorused, grinning up at him.

Jonathan heaved a sigh and leaned forward in his seat, extinguishing the flames in one go. If he had to endure this childish affair, he would at least get it over swiftly.

After the cake had been passed out, it came time for ice cream. But rather than having refined gelato dishes prepared table side as one might expect at a society birthday dinner, a "make your own sundae" bar awaited. Large tubs of ice cream dotted the table alongside copious toppings in cheap plastic dishes.

Jonathan's lip curled spying the rainbow sprinkles, crushed cookies, gummy bears, and other cavity-inducing decor sure to appeal to the younger set.

Still, he found himself shuffled over to construct his own dessert, his elbows jostled by small children flitting around the spreads. Jonathan placed two small scoops of vanilla into his dish, avoiding the gaze of a tiny girl peering around his waist.

"Aren't ya gonna add sprinkles and stuff?" she asked.

Jonathan attempted an appeasing smile, though it came out more of a grimace. "I believe I'll have it just like this, young lady. But you go ahead."

The little girl skipped off and Jonathan turned away, ready to be done with this entire event. But there were still gifts left to open...and surely those would provide no relief from the childish torments either.

After everyone finished their ice cream, Bruce stepped forward, clapping loudly for attention. "Alright, everyone! Let's let the guest of honor open his presents now." He pulled up a chair, gesturing for Jonathan to have a seat.

With the eyes of two dozen children focused eagerly on him, Jonathan reluctantly took his place. He reached for the top gift with as much dignity as he could muster. The tag showed it was from Harley and Joker, their signatures surrounded by cartoon smiley faces. Gingerly, he tore the paper to reveal...a potty training watch?

Raucous laughter erupted from Harley as Jonathan's face flushed bright red. "I thought you could use it in case you need any help telling time in the bathroom!" She doubled over in mirth.

Biting back an acidic retort, Jonathan placed the juvenile watch aside. Maybe the other packages wouldn’t reveal such crass absurdities.

The next was from the Riddler, wrapped in green paper covered in '?' symbols. Jonathan carefully opened it, ignoring several kids complaining "Hurry up, Mister!"

To his chagrin, he pulled out a sippy cup decorated with large purple letters that spelled his name. More snickers all around.

The following package was unmarked, wrapped in plain brown paper. Hesitantly, Jonathan peeled back the tape to uncover a stuffed plush doll...of himself. But not just any doll - this was a horrendous caricature, with exaggerated limbs, a squashed torso, and his infamous scarecrow mask replicated in its sneering burlap glory.

"Aww, it looks just like you! Isn't that cute!" Bruce slapped his knee.

Gift after gift brought further insult upon injury. The children’s parents have bought Jonathan sticker books, building blocks, Paw Patrol action figures, a finger paint set, and toy trucks.

Victor Fries sent a baby blue snowsuit embroidered with snowflakes, complete with fuzzy mittens and booties dangling from the sleeves.

Pamela Isely's contribution was a sprouting seed kit titled "Beginner Botanist Basics." The accompanying note read "Wanted to gift you plants but they might wilt under your sour aura."

Even the Gordons had sent a toy chemistry set suitable for ages 5 and up.

By now Jonathan just wanted to sink straight through the floor into oblivion. But several large presents still remained, all from Bruce Wayne. Shooting his nemesis a venomous sideways glance, he reached for the first box and lifted the lid, fully prepared for whatever was inside to deepen his misery.

Nestled inside was...a toddler-sized lab coat, stethoscope, and medical kit full of plastic instruments. The attached card from Bruce proclaimed, "For Dr. Crane! A perfect outfit to wear while running your new child psychology center!"

This public humiliation clearly tied back to Wayne's earlier announcement of the heavily-funded kids center. Jonathan shoved the box away in disgust.

Not only had he been trapped into yet another dreadful birthday celebration full of mocking, he was now somehow obligated to operate an entire medical facility for emotionally troubled youth?! He made a mental note to have his attorney contest Bruce's absurd public declaration at once.

Reaching for the largest box, Jonathan slowly peeled back the paper. “Please”, he silently begged any higher power, “let this be the last of it.” But instead of a prank, the box contained...an enormous plush dog nearly the size of an actual toddler.

At closer inspection, Jonathan realized it was a to-scale Chase from Paw Patrol - the very cartoon dog gracing all the party's decorations.

"I thought you would like to cuddle with it at night!" Bruce grinned. "Maybe it'll remind you of all your new little patients. I'll have a Chase custom uniform made up too of course."

"Oooh, he looks so huggable!" Harley grabbed the giant stuffed pup in a mock embrace as Joker snapped photos of Jonathan's eye-twitching fury.

"Last but not least..." Bruce slid over an extra large gift bag covered in pastel polka dots.

Jonathan clenched his fists, seconds from snapping completely. Tissue paper flew in drifts as he savagely tore through the bag to reveal...footed pajamas. But not simply any sleepwear - these were custom-made Paw Patrol onesies, with Jonathan's supposed clinic logo stitched above the chest pocket.

The room swelled with laughter and even delighted squeals from his tormentors. Jonathan shook, utterly unhinged by rage and humiliation.

Bruce wiped his damp eyes. "Hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of scheduling a press photo shoot for you tomorrow! Can't have the director of our new child psychology center without some publicity shots. Be sure to wear those, and bring your new stuffed pup!"

As Joker and Harley posed beside a wild-eyed Jonathan, snapping photos of their unwilling prop, Bruce stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"Now then, what do you say you model some of these nice new toys for us?" Bruce extended the toy chemistry set with an innocent smile.

Jonathan seethed with rage and humiliation. But he took a slow, steadying breath. Violence would only give them what they wanted - to see him completely lose control.

"Very well," he said stiffly. "If it will end this absurd charade once and for all, I will humor you with a brief...demonstration."

He took the toy chemistry set from Bruce with disdain. Under the watchful flashes of cameras, Jonathan pulled out toy beakers and flasks, narrating in a bored monotone about imaginary chemicals and reactions.

When he was finally done, Jonathan turned to the oversized dog with distaste. But he dragged it over, arranging its fluffy limbs as though performing experiments. "Fascinating specimen," he droned. "It seems to have an overabundance of fleas."

His tormentors howled with renewed laughter. Jonathan bore it with icy resolve, determined not to give them further satisfaction. But Bruce was clearly not finished gleefully orchestrating the torment. He led the party out to the back gardens, a stomach-churning sight meeting Jonathan's eyes.

Several classic children's games had been set up across the grounds. A pin the tail on the donkey game hung lopsided beside a tiny plastic chair circle. Chalk hopscotch grids checkered the pavement and a Twister mat lay ominously unfurled over the grass.

Bruce gestured widely with a showman's flair. "What better way to celebrate than with some old-fashioned party games? Care to go first, Jonathan?"

Without waiting for a response, Bruce steered him toward the tailless donkey. "Pin the tail is a classic. Here you are!" He handed Jonathan a felt tail and black blindfold then spun him dizzily around.

Disoriented, Jonathan wavered about with arms outstretched. The children shrieked encouragements, misdirecting him. Finally, he lunged forward to stick the tail...directly into a tree trunk.

Uproarious laughter echoed around at Jonathan's blinded bewilderment. Ripping off the blindfold, he glowered at the pinned tree as cameras flashed his defeat.

"My turn, my turn!" The tiny partygoers clamored for their own turns making fools of themselves.

Meanwhile, Bruce directed a glaze-eyed Jonathan toward the miniature chair circle.

"Have you played musical chairs lately? I'm sure you'll pick it right up again!" Bruce nodded and festive music began blaring from nearby speakers.

Jonathan stared blankly until a small shove from Harley jolted him into circling the tiny chairs alongside squealing children. When the music halted abruptly, Jonathan awkwardly angled his lanky frame to perch on a plastic seat clearly intended for a toddler's hindquarters.

"Eek he's cheating, that chair's too small!" a little girl shrieked.

Bruce waved aside her protests with a chuckle. "We'll make an exception for the birthday boy. Let's continue!"

The music resumed and Jonathan reluctantly continued the undignified game. But with chairs removed each round he shortly found himself wedged on a seat hardly broader than his thigh. The plastic creaked under his weight as he struggled to get comfortable.

When the game ended, Jonathan extricated himself hurriedly from the miniature chair, little plastic imprints visible across his legs. A pouting child with crossed arms glared up at him.

"It's cause you're so OLD that you won!" Foot tapping impatiently, the girl clearly felt she'd narrowly lost her rightful victory.

Before Jonathan could sputter out an outraged retort, he found himself being steered toward the next activity.

"Duck duck goose next!" Bruce announced, giving him a light shove into the seated circle of kids. With a long-suffering sigh, Jonathan resigned himself to further degradation, going through the tedious motions.

The children circled him, taking turns tapping his head while he braced for humiliation. When one finally yelled "Goose!" he lurched up, only to trip and face-plant roughly on the grass to the soundtrack of hysterical laughter.

Bruce showed Jonathan no mercy, subjecting him to endless juvenile torment. "Twister time!" he announced gleefully, spinning the dial on the game box.

Jonathan approached reluctantly, already dreading this new indignity. He awkwardly contorted his lean frame into ever more precarious positions, twisting and stretching across the multicolored circles.

Howls of laughter surrounded Jonathan as he contorted his limbs into impossible positions. Reaching the dots was a struggle without toppling over.

Sweat beaded on his forehead with the effort. When Bruce called for a foot change, Jonathan shifted - only to lose his balance and collapse in a heap.

Instantly, a pile of shrieking kids swarmed him, using his fallen form as a human jungle gym. Their knees and elbows jabbed his ribs as they climbed all over. The laughter and taunts grew louder, fueling Jonathan's anger. He grit his teeth and bore it, vengeance his only comfort.

"Alright, alright, let the poor man breathe!" Bruce finally intervened, shooing the rowdy swarm off Jonathan's bruised torso.

Jonathan struggled to his feet, bracing for the next ordeal. As if on cue, Bruce announced "Time for pony rides!"

The children erupted in cheers. Joker rubbed his hands together gleefully. "There's your steed, Scarecrow!" he cackled, pointing to a small black and white pony.

"Absolutely not," Jonathan snapped. “I’m not going on that horse!”

But before he could protest further, Joker hoisted him onto the pony's back. His long legs dangled awkwardly off either side of the saddle.

Laughter erupted as the pony ambled into its slow circles around the yard. Jonathan clung to the saddle horn, trying desperately not to topple over with each step. Camera flashes lit up the scene as guests jeered at how ridiculous he looked.

"Ride 'em, cowboy!" Harley hollered, pausing her enthusiastic photo session just long enough for Jonathan to shoot her a chilling scowl.

She blew a joking kiss as Joker adjusted his position, angling for more absurd shots of Gotham's once fearsome Scarecrow...now clinging comically to a pony.

Finally, the handler led the pony to a halt. Jonathan gratefully slid down, ducking away without a backward glance.

He had nearly reached the patio doors when loud cheers drew his attention back to the lawn. Bruce's amplified voice cut through the ruckus - "Alright kids, sounds like our special musical guest has arrived!"

His heart sinking, Jonathan turned to see Bruce herding the partygoers to a makeshift stage where a goofy guitarist was tuning up, adorned in flamboyant clothes.

"Gather round for Mr. Bananagrabber!" Bruce trumpeted.

Spotting Jonathan attempting to sneak off, Joker seized the birthday boy's sleeve and tugged him to the front of the crowd.

The guitarist flashed an exaggerated strum across his strings towards the cheering kids. "Well hiya boys and girls! Is everybody having fun?"

A deafening roar erupted from the children as they crowded forward eagerly.

"That's awesome! Now, who out there wants to sing with me?" He paused for dramatic effect while tiny hands shot skyward. "Well alrighty then! How about a round of If You're Happy and You Know It?"

Again the young guests exploded into shrieks of delight. Mr. Bananagrabber leaned down to tweak Jonathan's clenched jaw playfully. "And I see our very special birthday boy right here! Let's all welcome Johnny to help me sing!"

Before Jonathan could back away, the song started as the performer gesticulated wildly beside him. With all eyes and cameras upon him, Jonathan offered a feeble imitation of rhythmic clapping which instantly drew derisive laughter.

"Oh I think Johnny can do better than that!" Joker swooped in, grabbing Jonathan's arms to puppeteer him in exaggerated clapping motions above his head and then behind his back in time to the music. Catcalls and thunderous applause followed each humiliating maneuver.

Mercifully, the song ended but Jonathan's trial was far from over. Next up came "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes," replete with mandatory gesticulations. Joker gleefully forced the rigid man to point jerkily at each named body part.

Harley captured the entire awkward boogie session on video, already picturing the "Happy Birthday Jonathan!" musical compilation she planned to splice together later.

When Mr. Bananagrabber transitioned into "Old MacDonald Had a Farm," Bruce himself joined Joker in manipulating their tortured marionette. Jonathan was made to pantomime milking udders, flap stubby wings, and spin in sloppy circles for the "here a pig, there a pig" verse finale.

They took full advantage of the animal sounds portion, oinking, mooing, and clucking loudly in Jonathan's flushed face between verses. They tilted his head back and forth to the rhythm, stopping occasionally to use his gangly limbs as mock farm implements.

The next song was "Mary Had A Little Lamb." A smiling child stepped forward and handed Jonathan a stuffed lamb toy. With all eyes focused on him, Jonathan weakly shook the plush animal in time to the silly song lyrics while trying to ignore the muffled chuckles around him.

Once the song ended, Mr. Bananagrabber began singing "This Little Piggy." Joker and Harley pulled off Jonathan’s Italian leather shoes and socks then grabbed his bare feet.

The duo bent and wiggled Jonathan's long toes, reciting the nursery rhyme verses with childish glee. They curved his feet to simulate "piggies going to market" then scrunched his toes up for "staying home." Their absurd manipulations reduced the spectators to hysterical laughter.

When the song finally finished, Jonathan jerked his feet away in revulsion.

Mr. Bananagrabber jumped up with a final off-key strum of his guitar. "Let's hear it for the birthday guy!" He grabbed Jonathan's rigid hand to lift in victory as the children erupted in wild cheers and applause.

Blowing mock kisses to his audience, the performer packed away his instrument. "You were all wonderful! Enjoy the rest of the party!"

With a wave, he hopped off the makeshift stage. The crowd instantly flocked forward, surrounding a cringing Jonathan as high-pitched voices blended together.

"You sounded real good, Mister!"

"I liked it when you wiggled your toes!"

Jonathan's eye gave a pronounced twitch.

"How come your face is so red??" a pig-tailed girl squealed nearly in his ear. "It looks like a tomato!"

Ripples of giggles spread through the group at this observation.

Bruce's amplified voice cut through the cacophony. "Alright everyone, give Jonathan some space!

Clenching his fists tightly, Jonathan ground out through gritted teeth, "Where are my shoes and socks?"

The children glanced about in oblivious befuddlement before a boy with missing front teeth piped up. "Maybe you threw them away when you were dancing!"

His proclamation sparked renewed laughter amongst the others.

"I most certainly did NOT!" Jonathan thundered, the last shreds of his composure tearing away. "Which one of you idiots hid them??"

The kids glanced about uncertainly as accusations flew.

"I bet Mikey took 'em! He's always stealing stuff!"

"Nuh uh! It was probably Sarah!"

As the young guests descended into screeching chaos over the missing footwear, Bruce stepped forward waving his hands. "Now, now, I'm certain they'll turn up eventually! Why don't we just–"

Jonathan whirled to face him, eyes bulging dangerously behind his glasses. "This is YOUR doing, isn't it Wayne??" He advanced on the billionaire, bare feet slapping angrily against the grass. "I've endured quite enough humiliation! Now return my possessions before I–"

"Before you what, Jonathan?" Bruce replied calmly. "We're just having a bit of fun."

"Fun?! You call public humiliation and theft entertaining?" Jonathan seethed. "I’m sick of your games! Where are my shoes?"

"I'm sure they're around here somewhere. Why don't you look for them and the children can help?" Bruce suggested innocently.

Jonathan scowled as he stalked off, kids trailing behind calling out, "We'll help you, Mister!"

He ignored their squeals and began ripping bushes aside and overturning potted plants, growing more agitated by the minute. Small hands joined in the search but mainly got underfoot.

"Did you check the rose bushes by the fence?" a boy offered.

Jonathan plunged elbow-deep into thorny bushes without success.

"Maybe under the marble bench by the fountain?" a girl suggested.

Jonathan crawled the length of it, scattering pigeons, still finding nothing.

More spots were tried - inside the gazebo, beneath the weeping willow, even inside the empty bird bath. Jonathan tore through the expansive lawn in a frenzy as laughter echoed.

Nothing. As he checked the koi pond, a giggling girl held up his sock. "Look what I found!"

Snatching it back, Jonathan growled, "One sock does me little good! Keep looking or you'll get a taste of fear toxin!"

The hunt continued with more "helpful" interference than progress. Breathing heavily, he glared at the scattered children. "Where else can these shoes be hidden?!"

Then a small voice piped up, "Have you checked the pool?"

Jonathan crept to the edge and peered in. At the bottom, through the rippling water, he spotted a dim shape. His shoes and other sock lay at the deep end!

Furious, Jonathan shoved through the crowd of children. "Which one of you delinquents threw my stuff in?!"

Silence. Then a small voice said, "I think it was Mr. Wayne!"

Jonathan saw red at the accusation. Rage consumed him as yanked off his glasses and handed them to the nearest child.

“Hold these,” he said before plunging into the pool's cold depths. The weight of his waterlogged clothes pulled him down as he kicked fiercely to grab his belongings.

His hands grasped the shoes and sock, then shoved off the bottom forcefully. Jonathan broke the surface with a gasp, treading water as the children cheered.

He paddled to the ledge and hoisted himself out, coughing harshly. Water dripped from his saturated frame.

"Glasses," Jonathan demanded, reaching a dripping hand towards the girl. She stared back guilelessly. "My glasses, girl!"

A mischievous glint grew in her eyes as she launched his glasses into the pool with a peal of laughter.

"Go get them!" she shrieked in glee. The other children's jeers joined her mocking, finding further amusement in his plight.

Jonathan had finally had enough. With a menacing growl, he pulled a vial of fear toxin from his waterlogged pants and tossed it into the group of laughing children.

They immediately stopped giggling as an eerie green mist engulfed them. Screams of terror erupted as the kids clutched their heads, seeing visions of their deepest fears. They scrabbled away in a panic, tripping over each other in their haste to escape.

Bruce sprang into action, ushering the remaining unaffected children back inside the mansion as fast as possible. "Get inside, hurry!"

After watching the chaotic scene for a moment, Jonathan disappeared into the hedge maze, leaving the sound of shrieks and cries behind him. He wandered aimlessly, still seething. His fists clenched suddenly as mocking laughter echoed in his memory. The brats had made a fool of him for the last time.

Coming to a fountain at the center, Jonathan slumped onto the edge wearily. His clothes and hair remained dripping, glasses nowhere to be found. A humorless chuckle escaped his lips at the irony. All he'd wanted was a little quiet...