A man with a painted face, blood red lips, and blacked out eyes sat in the corner of the maximum security wing.  Put there only that morning he was too busy laughing to hear anything said.  He wasn't chained to the wall like some of the other inmates here.  Oh no.  He had been deemed psychotic and quite possibly a threat to society even from within these walls.  So, there he stood shackled up quite in the same manner as Hannibal Lecter from the movies.  A large slab holding him upright, a bite guard and every inch of his body restrained in some way or another.  He had been known by many names outside of here.  Unfortunately, within these walls no one seemed to have even heard of the Gleeman.  It really was a shame.  But then again, at the same moment, it presented tremendous opportunities.  A clean slate, fresh minds and no one but the warden keeping him within this damnable cage within a cage.<br/><br/>It actually made quite the fine joke.  Even like this, while managing to baffle the guards, his makeup seemed almost flawless and at the same moment only recently applied.  The only times they ever seemed to take their eyes off of him were when the guard changed, but every new guard claimed that no matter how hot they felt, his makeup showed no sign of running.  So, he laughed.  Loud and mirthfully, it was part of his signature.  If only they could give him a better color than that damned orange.<br/><br/>He raised his voice and called out from behind his bite mask.<b>"Warden!  Oh, WARDEN!"</b>He continued to call for that prodigal key keeper, alterating between that and his racous laughter until the man finally showed himself.