A/N: Hi, Windup Dollie here. I decided to change this from Romance/Hurt/Comfort to Romance/Humor, upon the realization of two things:
1. I can't write anything serious for too long, and have it turn out well.
2. JTHM is only chock full of teen angst, depressing themes, and badly constructed melodramatic prose a fraction of the time. The rest is just ludicrously insane, ironic horror.
I'm not a very good writer, so I don't think I'll be able to write it like that. But I'll try. And thanks to my Beta: cratbro.
Chapter 2:
After changing out of his blood soaked shirt and pants, and exchanging them for not-as-soaked clothing, Johnny stuffs his wallet into his jeans pocket and steps through the front door. He doesn't bother with a jacket, the tepid night hardly called for one. He casually slinks out his front door and across the barren eyesore that is the front lawn. Dead squirrle here, dying kitten there; He steps on them both for good measure.
It was nice enough to walk, so thats just what he did, his swinging gate set at a fairly laid back pace.
"dun du nuh~ Cherry Brainfreezy, hm hm!" He hums a cheery tune to himself, never mind the blood spatter that flecks his striped "Z?" shirt. It had been a good day, and to the homicidal maniac it felt as if nothing could ever-
Tire squeals, laughter, and a booming base line. The flashy sports car zooms by, leaving a thoroughly soaked Johnny C. behind in it's wake.
....
"FOOK!" Johnny sputters, his good mood following the sloshing watter on the road side: down the drain.
The black haired man lifts two pale hands and vigorously wipes the muddy water from his face, scowling and noting the color, license plate, and direction of the car. Red, FTL 010, the opposite way of the 24/7.
Instead of tracking down those fuckers, the maniac decided that he'd just kill the cashier at the convenience store instead. What? He really wanted that BrainFreezy.
Picking up the pace a little, Johnny makes his way down the deserted sidewalk, crossing the street at one point to avoid accidentally coming in contact with that creepy chihuahua.
"How I loath that dog... its so...." the term 'Wacky' came to mind, but even the thought of his own self using that excruciatingly stupid word filled him rage. OH SUCH RAGE. But he both mentally and physically shook it off, trying to lapse back into his lighter state of mind. That lighter state, induced usually by a mass murder or a good self-loathing rant, and yes, the mere idea of a Cherry Brainfreezy.
"I do love them so," the maniac continues off his thoughts aloud, not noticing that he has reached his destination until a couple snickers sound to his left. Johnny stops and turns, looking directly at the assortment of teenage sluts and morons; the sluttish girls wearing sickeningly short skirts and tube tops. While the morons smoked, judging by the sickeningly sweet smell: marijuana. He finds them all to look pretty drunk. And what they're all doing, at 11 PM and drunk hanging around in front of the 24/7 on a Tuesday night, hell if he knew.
"Lookit him," A tall muscled one, with a small head and stooped shoulders snorted, motioning to the homicidal maniac. "He's talkin' to himself all crazy like. Like a crazy person who's.... all crazy."
'Oh what a genius you are.' Johnny thinks idly, while marking him to be the first to die. The boy's gaggle of friends laugh despite how retarded his statement was. All unknowing that they will never get the chance to drive into a ditch tonight, as the pale man pushes past them and enters the convenience store.
The cashier cringes noticeably when he recognizes who the jingle from the bells over the door had just announced the presence of. He shrinks back when Johnny snatches a bag of Senõr Salsa chips from a rack near the counter, on his way to the back of the store.
The Brainfreezy machine sat, in all it's gray and greasy glory, against an equally gray and greasy wall. These facts hardly deter the thin man, and he enthusiastically grabs a plastic "SUCK" cup and slips it under the Cherry dispensing tap. And like every other time Johnny preforms this ritual, he pauses before pulling on the switch and reads the sign; "Pull gently... oh yeah, that's good" He does as it says, and vaguely wonders if this text is a mere figment of his imagination, or if the person who runs the 24/7 is just sick.
The machine is running, seeing as how it's not even midnight, but even so, after about five cashiers they had wised up. No longer does the BrainFreezy get turned off at 2AM! The dark-haired man laughs maniacally, traumatizing the little girl behind him, who had been waiting to get herself a Brainfreezy too. But she goes completely ignored, in favor of a big slurp from the SUCK cup and a happy little skip over to the cash register. Sadly enough, the girl's mother happened to be standing in the way. Sad for her that is. She didn't even have time to scream, and only her daughter saw the crazed laughing-man plunge a dagger through her back and into the woman's heart. She slumps to the floor and Johnny conceal's the weapon.
With that out of the way, the man in a striped "Question Sleep" shirt learned of what had been holding the mother's attention. A little boy and a pack of beer.
"B-but mister, please... I-I, m-my daddy, he n-neeeds---"His large doe eyes began to gloss over with wetness, crystal tears slipping down his pale cheeks, dripping from his chin and landing on his baggy, striped tee. The boy clutched his ghoulish teddy bear close, and tried to stifle his weak sobs. Everybody was watching the scene, the hammered teens had come inside, and there had been a couple people around before as well. It was scary.
.end part one.
---------------------------
Dear DIE-ary,
... Eff and D-boy were fighting today. About me actually, and about.... happiness. It made me think. Would I really know if I was happy, after such numbing despair for so long? It was a confusing idea, D-boy had brought up, but then I thought of something I did know. And it was related, in a sense.
Is life, life, without death? No. How would you know if you're alive, if you didn't know what death was? How would you separate middle and end, if you knew no end? That would make the middle disappear entirely. Its all relative, could you point out the middle of something that never ends? No.
So yes. I would know.... know if I were ever to be happy,
"Stop Smiling"
I should stop listening to D-Boy. He only depresses me.... I miss Nailbunny....
"Sigh" I have a whole room full of shit-lumps disguised as human beings, un-tortured!
Duty Calls.
---------------------------
.part two start.
Johnny stood, sipping at his cherry-flavored beverage as he watched the scene unfold. It seemed that a little boy had been trying to buy a six pack of Heineken for his father. The maniac tilted his head in thought, the whole convenience store silent as the boy cried softly. That bear looks kind of familiar... Johnny C. sucks loudly on his Brainfreezy, and the boy's head whips around to face the loud noise in the quiet space. His doe eyes widen, and the murderer's face breaks into a delighted (if not crazed) smile.
"Squeegee! What brings you here, at this late hour of the night." With a few long steps, the thin man is behind the boy, who is looking over his shoulder at him. As an after thought, Johnny adds: "The streets are a terrible place for a nice little Squee at this time... What are you doing here?" the last part is spoken louder, and directed at the still softly crying child.
"Heh, what a fag," That same idiot teen speaks again, as he chews a stolen stick of gum. The so called 'fag'slips a dagger out of his sleeve, "That cry baby's probably his little fuck toy, h-"
The teen doesn't get out that last 'heh', he isn't able to actually; seeing as how both his trachea and jugular vein just got sliced open. Squee.... 'Squee!s' in fright and backs up against the counter, holding Shmee in front of him, as if to both protect himself from the Scary Neighbor Man, and the blood being spewed from the dying teen's neck.
Other people are screaming too, but Johnny only really noticed Squee's, with an apologetic and abashed expression he turns around and conceals the blade. He takes a few steps closer and lets a reassuring smile grace his pale lips.
"Sorry about that Squee, here, let me walk you home. It is Tuesday after all." Johnny is still holding the Cherry Brainfreezy, and now picks up the pack of Heineken. He doesn't look back, but casually slips a pipe bomb out of his pant leg, and pushes the door open.
At first the child doesn't follow, but soon enough a light jingle signals that a second person has exited the 24/7. Both of them were silent on their trek to their respective homes.
-
While the two of them hadn't spoken a word as they walked back from the convenience store, not even when said convenience store erupted into smoke and flame; Johnny couldn't help but wonder what little Squeegee had been doing. And why his father had sent him to do it. It was all very perplexing. But the maniac put those thoughts to the back of his mind, and instead plopped himself down on the couch and flicked through the channels until he found a good commercial to watch.
"AHHH, MOMMY! –SPLOOOOSH-"