A/N:

Behold.

The real reason Johnny doesn't like bodily fluids.

It was mid-afternoon; of course, you wouldn't know that if you were trapped in the basement of the seven hundredth and seventy-seventh house on the creepiest block in the neighborhood. No, if you were down there, you received no light, no speculation towards the time of day; no idea. Nevertheless, the residence of Johnny C. remained as unseen as ever, despite the spine tingling shrieks erupting from the behind the whitewash walls of his mid-city dwelling.

It was his second victim of the week. Johnny contemplated whether he was becoming a good, a 'socially acceptable' human; I mean, it was Friday. Two killings in five days? That's got to be some kind of record. Wiping a large amount of copper-tasting liquid from the side of his face, Johnny made his way to the stairs, ascending from the gloomy basement. Moments after slamming the only entrance to the most putrid room of the house, Johnny was greeted with his three 'friends'.

"Wow Nny," at this, Johnny couldn't help but turn around. Not that anyone was really standing there, of course. "Anyone would think you were becoming normal! Well, normal for you. This is you, we're talking about,"

"Eff, you're such a poor influence on Nny," D-Boy announced in a fake, motherly tone. He seemed to be going for warm and loving, but lukewarm was the best he could do. Mr. Eff rolled his eyes.

"I don't need to hear that from you, you nagging bastard," Johnny slunk on to the worn couch, slinging his legs across a coffee table. He was starting to get a headache.

"I don't recall asking you to listen!" D-Boy attempted to punch Mr. Eff, but he dodged. Loud profanity continued inside Johnny's head, making him groan slightly.

"Would you both shut the fuck up?" The twenty-something-year-old stood from his previous sitting position to shout at the doughboys. "You're both worse than bodily fluids!" And bodily fluids are disgusting… Johnny added mentally, swaying on his feet slightly.

"Don't listen to them, Johnny," the voice of reason appeared to his left; once again his mind persuaded him to glance in the direction of the sound. "You're doing great."

"Oh, pipe down, Nailbunny," Mr. Eff glared over at the rabbit head, who had his normal facial features fixated to its face. "This has nothing to do with you, so fuck off."

"Practice what you preach, mother fucker." Nny grumbled, striding to the kitchen. It was five o'clock; usually the time a family would settle down for a humble conversation about the day's activities over some kind of roasted meat and vegetables. But no, Nny wasn't hungry. He was more interested in the knives on the shelves.

Ugh… Johnny picked a random item of clothing from one of the many mutilated corpses lying around his house. How ungracious to die making such a mess.

Nny wiped his hands vigorously, mumbling about the liquids that ooze from the many holes of a human's physical being. Where is the... Bactine…

"Not fond of those bodily fluids, are you, Nny?" Mr. Eff snorted as Johnny cringed; how did they keep sneaking up on him like that? "No wonder you're still a virgin."

Awkward silence. Johnny blinked slowly, processing what his own mind had just taunted him about. Mr. Eff began to laugh manically, the infuriating noise echoing around Nny's mind. D-Boy was just as loud, but he appeared to be shouting about death.

"What the fuck? That's the… dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Suddenly enraged, the black-haired man kicked over a chair. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"Now, now," D-Boy snickered, "there's no need to let your sexual frustration out on us!"

"Yeah, Nny, it isn't our fault the girls don't like you."

"Probably afraid you'll kill them."

"Yeah! Like you almost did to Devi! She probably told everyone about that!"

Nny had been fine with the doughboys ridiculing. They do it a lot, he does his best to ignore it. But when they bring up Devi… well…

"ARGH!" angry and slightly hurt, Johnny reached for the closest sharp object and stood over one of the above-mentioned corpses. The people he captured were like the therapy he never had to pay for; whenever he was in a bad mood, they'd always been there for him. They'd always cry for him, despite the fact it was generally because of the pain he inflicted, not because of the depressing rants he hollered at them before death.

Eyeing a young woman strapped to the wall, he raised the object, most likely a knife and pierced her chest, shouting, "DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING STOP?", and was not surprised when he didn't get a response from the already-dismembered female.

The room was silent, apart from the occasional pant from the homicidal maniac.

"Whoa, slow down, boy!" Nailbunny nudged Johnny's thoughts, making him open his eyes. When did he shut them, anyway? "It's not that big of a deal! Some people just don't like… er… sex." Johnny didn't reply.

"It's no reason to get upset. There are a lot of people in the world who are like you. Minus the homicide." Surprisingly, neither D-Boy nor Eff interjected with thorny opinions.

"It's disgusting," Nny muttered sourly to the knife in his hands, eyes locking on to the blurred image of himself. "Touching is so empty. Is it really a problem that I think that? Because if it is, well, fuck you!"

"It's not really a problem-" the rabbit head began to speak, but was quickly cut off.

"Shut up! I don't want to fucking hear it! I swear, if I ever, ever feel dirty like the tainted teens of today, I will tear my genitals off!"

It was at this point in Johnny's life that put an end to any assumptions about his sexual preference. At least the maniac would stay pure in one way. Even if it was just one.

"You're on."

A/N:

Eff spoke the last line, for anyone who didn't guess.

I didn't want to put anything in the story; I tried it out in about ten different ways and it didn't sound right, so I put it here instead.

Hope you enjoyed…