<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#800080">His head snapped around and he nearly passed out from laughing too hard.  "Please.  Don't call me that.  It's a degrading name.  Part of the reason that Warden likes it so.  I abandoned that name long before anyone here was even aware that I existed."  He tongued at the slight scars and shook his head.  "This is something that anyone who appreciates a good joke will like.  Firstly, please, call me Gleeman.  I pride myself on being able to entertain the masses and that's what I plan on doing no matter where I go."  Taking a deep breath he prepared his story.<br/>
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"It started with a simple day, wake up with a loving wife, go to work and make the bread money.  Problem was, when I came home, my apartment was on fire and I was sadly informed that my darling wife was inside, burning alive because no one could get to her in time.  Well, my act at the comedy shop suffered and soon enough I found it all to be a cruel joke.  So, one night I grab some paint, do up my face and skip off into the ghetto.  There I find some young punks who had supposedly done the deed and made them smile as well.  That's what started it.  But if you're wondering why I'm in here....  Well, let's just say that people don't take too kindly to carefully executed attempts to blow up an embassy.  Especially when it's your own."   He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.  That had been quite an amazing little fiasco right there.  Sadly, no one had gotten the punch line yet.  It was true, he had intended to get caught.  Being put here, that was just icing on the cosmic joke.</span>