by StarWolf
6/17/2005
Title: Where the Madmen Meet
Author: StarWolf (elendraug at yahoo dot com)
Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Vignette
Pairing: implied NnyxMmy
Warnings: Language :B
Disclaimer: Jhonen kicks way more ass than I ever will.
Distribution: Don't even think about it.
Summary: And so, Jimmy waits.
Author's Notes: For Ted-Drakness.
Jimmy's a lot of fun to write. Ending lyrics are from "Down in the Park" by the Foo Fighters. I was listening to the Marilyn Manson version, though.
The obnoxious buzzing of someone else's alarm clock wakes him too-early-in-the-morning; he grits his teeth and wishes he could throw the goddamned noisy thing at its owner. Unfortunately, doing such would get the landlord pissed at him, and the culprit would likely set their alarm louder.
Fuck.
Jimmy swings his legs over the side of his bed, lifts his arms into a stretch, and turns around to look out the apartment's window. The rising sunlight glints off metallic buildings like flashbulbs on steak knives. Tilting his head and gazing into the glare, Jimmy squints and says "today," but thinks tomorrow.
His bootstraps make a dull clinking sound as they rattle with each footstep on the dingy sidewalks of this fucking city. If only he didn't have to venture into a coagulation of human filth just to buy some groceries. Someday or now (they're all the same) he'll show them -- they'll get the shit they deserve.
Mmy spits on the asphalt, flips off an entire city block, smirks, and feels slightly justified.
Lucky number 777 has written itself in his mind, and every time he passes the strangely not-quite-lopsided house, he can only bite his lip in anticipation.
Never someday now.
The weight of the blades in his bestickered suitcase is reassuring, motivating: he can do this, he will do this. He's walking up the short staircase, he's lifting his unoccupied hand, he's ringing the door(bzzaaaagh!)bell and he's--
--found his voice again.
"Hey!"
"We are not lovers, we are not romantics; we are here to serve you."