I gotta say, this is probably the best thing I've ever written.

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As we all know, it is human nature to eventually get tired. And our good friend Johnny C. was, much to his dismay, human.

As such, Johnny had recently grown weary of brutally slaughtering people. (Believe it or not.) He realized this when his doorbell rang and he didn't immediately fill with rage and disembowel the individual.

In his dark, macabre living room, Johnny was watching television on his busted up rotten couch. A harsh buzzing noise interrupted his precious T.V. time, so he sighed and stood up.

'At least the screaming person was entertaining.' Johnny thought. The person that was connected to the doorbell had long since died and decayed.

The irritated Mr. C. opened the door and glared at the man standing there. The man, about Johnny's height, had the precise opposite look of our little insomniac. He was well built, well rested, well dressed, and pretty much a nice looking person. He wore a slight caring smile with kind, attentive blue eyes to compliment it. His neck length dark blonde hair strayed off his lovely face.

Johnny immediately hated the person.

"Hello, sir." The man began. "My name is Martin. Have you heard the word of God?"

Johnny then noticed the bible in Martin's hands. The hatred deepened.

"Sort of, but it was more of a disgruntled murmur, if you ask me." Johnny replied, leaning against his doorway.

Martin chuckled a bit. "Oh, I doubt that. You see, God is love, and he loves all of us, his childr-"

"Yes, yes, undying love, skin of gold, piss of strawberry wine, and all that shit."

Martin's smile faded.

"Let me ask you a few questions, mister Martin." Johnny was entirely ready to tear this person down.

"If this unimaginatively named GOD of yours was so loving and caring, why would there be so much pain in this fucking world?"

"Well…"

"Why do people steal and cheat and lie and kill each other?"

"Because…"

"Why do people kill themselves?"

"You see…"

"Why are people like me running around, killing every single person that decides to ring my goddamn doorbell and talk shit to me about some lazy bastard GOD?!?"

At this, Johnny pulled a knife on Martin, hoping to frighten him into running. It was always funny when they ran.

"I don't know." Martin said.

Normally, Johnny would have struck by now, but the murderer was a bit confused. Martin's 'I Don't Know' wasn't the same kind of reality-shattering, heart-breaking, oh-sweet-lord-my-whole-life's-a-lie kind of 'I Don't Know'.

It was the sincere kind.

The kind Johnny used.

"I mean, all my life I've been taught all this God stuff, but I don't know what it means." Martin confessed. "I just feel so… empty inside."

Johnny stared at Martin. He thought that every religious person always blindly followed some insane sermons taught by hypocritical priests.

"It's like… no one cares that what they say doesn't make sense, or that they're acting like idiots, or that I feel like killing myself."

Martin was crying. Johnny was nervous.

"Um…well…that's pretty fucked."

Martin sniffed. "Yeah, I know."

"But that's people for you."

Martin looked up. There were tears down his face. "What?"

"People. All those vexing ogres that rip you up and expect you to get up and pity them."

Johnny turned around and went back inside. He left the door open.

Martin stayed kneeling there for a moment, weeping, and then followed Johnny.

Johnny was sitting back on his couch. Martin stood at the doorway, staring at the utter disorder of the room.

"You feel depressed and pained, no?" Johnny asked.

Martin nodded, dumbfounded.

Johnny smiled darkly. "You feel like people are piles of shit in flesh business suits?"

Another nod.

"You feel God is uncaring and sluggish, if he exists at all?"

A few moments hesitation, then another nod.

Johnny's smile turned suddenly benign. "Ah, a kindred spirit! How wonderful to meet you!!"

Now Martin was confused. "I'm…sorry?"

"Don't be, friend!" Johnny leapt up from the couch. "You and I, me and you, we are of the same mindset! We hate the world of monstrosities and dumbasses we are forced to inhabit! And we both hear mean little voices!"

"Um…I don't hear voices." Martin said. He was no longer shocked, nor weepy; he actually appeared to have a glad luster to his face.

"Hmmm… Nonetheless, we share our hatred for those dupes of the human race, those so-called people!!"

Now Martin leapt up, just like Johnny. "Yes, you're right! All those idiots, they're just so…so…"

"Foolish?" Johnny supplied.

"Foolish! Yes! So foolish in all their problems and no solutions!"

"YES! And that is why they must pain!"

"Yes, pain! Torture! Hurt!"

"DEATH!"

"DEATH!!!!!" Martin's eyes took on a twitchy, paranoid look. The two began to laugh violently together.

"HAHAHA!!!"

"AH-HAHAHAH!!!"

"KYAH-AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!"

"NYA-KAH-AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

The laughter slowly died down.

"Ah, yes. Death." Johnny mused, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Yes. Kill." Martin's left eye twitched.

Johnny smiled. "Well, if you insist…"

Johnny picked up the knife from before. Rapidly, before Martin could react, Johnny shoved the knife straight through Martin's neck, pinning him to the wooden wall.

"Oh, and my name's Johnny C. But you can call me Nny."

Johnny shoved the knife upwards, tearing Martin's skull in half. Martin's body collapsed, leaking blood. There was a nasty gash in the wall where the knife had moved.

Johnny looked at his knife and smiled. He ran outside laughing. Martin rotted on the floor.