"I don't want to press charges." Johnny rubbed his face tiredly and walked
casually away from the buzzing policemen. Outside the sky was reverting
back to it's comfortable black, and he walked home along the damp sidewalk.
The Burger Boy was sitting in the same place, the same grin etched along
his plastic face. He hadn't moved yet.
Johnny stared at him and finally decided to talk, since things weren't doing any better to clarify themselves in his head. "So, what do you think?" He asked, as if doing the opposite of what his enemy thought would give him some direction.
The Burger Boy glared, but the anger in his face slowly dissolved into a snicker of glee. He shuttered a bit, as if to shake his head, and refused to talk. "Ah," Johnny said, "You're finally not telling me what to do?" He walked circles around the doll. "So… why would that be? I'm on the right path in your mind, eh? You don't have to say anything because I'm already doing what you want." Johnny sat down beside the doll and resumed his thought position; elbows on knees, fingers tapping each other as he leaned his chin into his palms. "I'm not, though. I didn't follow Devi, when I could've. I don't need her. She brings something upon me. Something I'm not comfortable with."
He became aware of the grinning burger boy and turned to him. "Like you." He watched the motionless doll. "I'm painting, and that's a way of not giving into desires." You like painting, though, a part of him said, and he froze. A part of him said, a part of him not manifested in an object. What? "A desire for painting is different than a desire for food… sleep… sex… blood." Johnny reasoned with himself. "It's a way of transcending those mediocre, daily needs. The problem is… lust…" He trailed off, then got up and wandered about the house, stopping at the pathway to the underground dungeon. After a slight hesitation, he dropped down into the belly of the house.
The corpses were pungent, dissipating; the coarse remnants of a wasted life. Wasted *lives*, he remembered, but mostly he was thinking about his own. Such a waste of time. Such a primal need, to hurt others, such unnecessary actions to ones own enlightenment. Now he had something better. Messing with other people had been more of a tribute to the shit he hated, than an actualization of himself. Such a waste, he thought, wandering deeper still.
"But there's one more thing to overcome." He said to himself.
"Devi."
Sickness was growing stronger in Devi's head and she tried to shake it out. The straitjacket worked for Sickness, holding Devi down, vulnerable to Sickness' words. I have to get out, Devi chanted, keep my own head. Devi tossed back and forth and accidentally hit her head on the soft wall, but nothing helped. Finally she paused, took a deep breath, and began singing.
*As much as I definitely enjoy solitude
I wouldn't mind
Perhaps
Spending little time with you
Sometimes
Sometimes
Possibly maybe
1 Possibly maybe
Probably not
Um… aahhh electric shocks…
I love them
With you
Something something
After a while I wonder
Where's that love you promised me
Whe-ere is it…*
Devi's voice grew louder and stronger, stretching out the notes to produce a more Bjorkish tone. Her voice, still frail in comparison to Sickness' awful raspings, echoed throughout the white square room. Finally she broke off, sobbing. Sickness cackled somewhere in her head. "Something beautiful, something beautiful…" Devi chanted, trying to think of the night sky. Red paint. Tenna's gorgeous idiocy. It wasn't working.
"All you can see is hate, right? Good. That's because that's all there is." Sickness hissed in her ear. "But you don't have to suffer it. You can come out on top."
"On top. Like Johnny did?" Devi shook her head, "stop the façade, Sickness. You don't offer the power of the world, or the meaning of life. All you represent is an even deeper degeneration into this shithole."
"Ooh, big words. Trying to convince yourself?"
"There he's on his knees again,
trying hard to understand,
why Naveed would let a young man
die
Convinced that he might break,
He reaches for that phone,
And another day…"
"Stop with the angsty pop music, please." Sickness sighed.
"is gone…." Devi held back her tears. "You, Sickness, are the manifestation of THEM. And that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid."
"Aww, you say it so meanly. I thought you liked Johnny."
"Maybe what he could've been. But not what he is now."
"Too bad, poor thing."
"Johnny…" Devi hissed, chanting the name, rolling the sounds in her lips, Jha… Sha, ja, Johnny. Nny. "Manifestation. Like manifestation. Manifest Destiny. The shit people will pull, just to get ahead. Just for themselves. Greed. What's the point? Ravenous."
Sickness reproached her, "Now you're dwindling down to stream of consciousness."
"Maybe that's a good thing." Devi snapped.
"If you want to kill someone, kill Johnny. It doesn't matter."
"Yeah, but at the moment, I appear to be tied up."
"Ah, if that's the case," Somewhere in the bowels of her mind, Devi could see Sickness' sneer. "Then you should've told me earlier.
Somewhere in the building the alarms went off. And the door to Devi's little padded cell slowly swung open.
*song lyrics from Bjork's Possibly Maybe and OLP's Naveed
This is probably terribly OOC but I don't care*
Johnny stared at him and finally decided to talk, since things weren't doing any better to clarify themselves in his head. "So, what do you think?" He asked, as if doing the opposite of what his enemy thought would give him some direction.
The Burger Boy glared, but the anger in his face slowly dissolved into a snicker of glee. He shuttered a bit, as if to shake his head, and refused to talk. "Ah," Johnny said, "You're finally not telling me what to do?" He walked circles around the doll. "So… why would that be? I'm on the right path in your mind, eh? You don't have to say anything because I'm already doing what you want." Johnny sat down beside the doll and resumed his thought position; elbows on knees, fingers tapping each other as he leaned his chin into his palms. "I'm not, though. I didn't follow Devi, when I could've. I don't need her. She brings something upon me. Something I'm not comfortable with."
He became aware of the grinning burger boy and turned to him. "Like you." He watched the motionless doll. "I'm painting, and that's a way of not giving into desires." You like painting, though, a part of him said, and he froze. A part of him said, a part of him not manifested in an object. What? "A desire for painting is different than a desire for food… sleep… sex… blood." Johnny reasoned with himself. "It's a way of transcending those mediocre, daily needs. The problem is… lust…" He trailed off, then got up and wandered about the house, stopping at the pathway to the underground dungeon. After a slight hesitation, he dropped down into the belly of the house.
The corpses were pungent, dissipating; the coarse remnants of a wasted life. Wasted *lives*, he remembered, but mostly he was thinking about his own. Such a waste of time. Such a primal need, to hurt others, such unnecessary actions to ones own enlightenment. Now he had something better. Messing with other people had been more of a tribute to the shit he hated, than an actualization of himself. Such a waste, he thought, wandering deeper still.
"But there's one more thing to overcome." He said to himself.
"Devi."
Sickness was growing stronger in Devi's head and she tried to shake it out. The straitjacket worked for Sickness, holding Devi down, vulnerable to Sickness' words. I have to get out, Devi chanted, keep my own head. Devi tossed back and forth and accidentally hit her head on the soft wall, but nothing helped. Finally she paused, took a deep breath, and began singing.
*As much as I definitely enjoy solitude
I wouldn't mind
Perhaps
Spending little time with you
Sometimes
Sometimes
Possibly maybe
1 Possibly maybe
Probably not
Um… aahhh electric shocks…
I love them
With you
Something something
After a while I wonder
Where's that love you promised me
Whe-ere is it…*
Devi's voice grew louder and stronger, stretching out the notes to produce a more Bjorkish tone. Her voice, still frail in comparison to Sickness' awful raspings, echoed throughout the white square room. Finally she broke off, sobbing. Sickness cackled somewhere in her head. "Something beautiful, something beautiful…" Devi chanted, trying to think of the night sky. Red paint. Tenna's gorgeous idiocy. It wasn't working.
"All you can see is hate, right? Good. That's because that's all there is." Sickness hissed in her ear. "But you don't have to suffer it. You can come out on top."
"On top. Like Johnny did?" Devi shook her head, "stop the façade, Sickness. You don't offer the power of the world, or the meaning of life. All you represent is an even deeper degeneration into this shithole."
"Ooh, big words. Trying to convince yourself?"
"There he's on his knees again,
trying hard to understand,
why Naveed would let a young man
die
Convinced that he might break,
He reaches for that phone,
And another day…"
"Stop with the angsty pop music, please." Sickness sighed.
"is gone…." Devi held back her tears. "You, Sickness, are the manifestation of THEM. And that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid."
"Aww, you say it so meanly. I thought you liked Johnny."
"Maybe what he could've been. But not what he is now."
"Too bad, poor thing."
"Johnny…" Devi hissed, chanting the name, rolling the sounds in her lips, Jha… Sha, ja, Johnny. Nny. "Manifestation. Like manifestation. Manifest Destiny. The shit people will pull, just to get ahead. Just for themselves. Greed. What's the point? Ravenous."
Sickness reproached her, "Now you're dwindling down to stream of consciousness."
"Maybe that's a good thing." Devi snapped.
"If you want to kill someone, kill Johnny. It doesn't matter."
"Yeah, but at the moment, I appear to be tied up."
"Ah, if that's the case," Somewhere in the bowels of her mind, Devi could see Sickness' sneer. "Then you should've told me earlier.
Somewhere in the building the alarms went off. And the door to Devi's little padded cell slowly swung open.
*song lyrics from Bjork's Possibly Maybe and OLP's Naveed
This is probably terribly OOC but I don't care*