It's late... 4:24... or something like that. I had another one of those odd
urges to write. This one isn't quite as thought plagued as the last
chapter, though it does have Nny talking to those that don't quite hear
once again. There's this skeeter hawk that keeps flying into the computer
screen. I think it's my friend or something. It's been doing this since 11.
Maybe I should name it Before it's eaten by spiders.
*ownlessness* I own less than ness. I have little money, just what I've stored back for that spooky shirt, whenever it comes in... so why would you want to sue me? You already have all my money, Jhonen. I do need something to eat on, even if it is ramen noodles (which are conveniently cheap and quick to make!). So please... realize I cannot claim Johnny as my own.
Laying, thankfully, awake on a hard, cold surface is one way to preoccupy one's self, to divert attention away from common annoyances. Poured concrete isn't that pleasant of a substance, unless being walked on or used as a stationary object to bash heads into. As it is, the most recent to receive this special treatment is currently preoccupied with bleeding; not dying, just bleeding. The deep red fluid seeps from a lengthy gash in the unconscious fool's forehead. All that can be heard is heavy breathing as the wounded man's lungs heave roughly to take in precious oxygen.
Nny leans his head over to look at that fallen foe. What had this one done again? The common act of slamming this guy's head into the smooth, cracked surface had seemingly taken a lot out of Nny. He felt himself the one whose skull had been fractured instead of the one exerting pressure needed to inflict the damage. Johnny leans up and swivels himself around to where he is facing his victim and cocks his head to the side inquisitively.
"Oh yes," Nny states in a sudden moment of realization. "I remember now!" With a slight laugh, at his own forgetfulness, he continued. "You were the one reading that little article about me, and, in a rather vocal manner, agreed with it completely! I'm sorry, but that reporter was not only misinformed, but is actually three floors down in the "siphoning' room. See, the whole idea of someone like me actually drinking the blood of his victims is, well, very wrong. I'm doing that reporter a great favor! He misinformed the public, people like you... I'm doing this so he can know why the blood is missing. I'm sure he'll understand after he sees it happening... if he survives for that long. It's an odd occurrence if someone actually does survive for that long, hmm. But you're still alive aren't you?!" Nny finds himself in a standing position and pointing at the weak, bleeding form in front of him.
"It would be a shame to kill you now, seeing as you won't be able to appreciate it," Nny ponders with a hand raised to his chin. "Oh well, I guess I'll see you later then... when you're more alert. Right now, Squeegee's at school and I have to go leave this dead rat I found in my kitchen the other day in his bedroom so he'll see it when he comes back." Johnny walks out of the room at a hastened pace. After passing the door, Nny pops his head back in and says a kindhearted "bye" to his quarry before slamming the iron bolt door shut.
An overhead light bulb swings placidly on a string of electrical wire, failing to support the bulb with its essential electricity. The light dims and flickers a few times before radiating a final lasting burst of light and extinguishing, leaving the room to darkness.
And thus ends something if I don't find myself in a writing mood anytime soon, which is highly unlikely. Read Eagerly Vent Intentionally Every Weekday... (there's a secret message) and God... I must really be tired to have written that...
*ownlessness* I own less than ness. I have little money, just what I've stored back for that spooky shirt, whenever it comes in... so why would you want to sue me? You already have all my money, Jhonen. I do need something to eat on, even if it is ramen noodles (which are conveniently cheap and quick to make!). So please... realize I cannot claim Johnny as my own.
Laying, thankfully, awake on a hard, cold surface is one way to preoccupy one's self, to divert attention away from common annoyances. Poured concrete isn't that pleasant of a substance, unless being walked on or used as a stationary object to bash heads into. As it is, the most recent to receive this special treatment is currently preoccupied with bleeding; not dying, just bleeding. The deep red fluid seeps from a lengthy gash in the unconscious fool's forehead. All that can be heard is heavy breathing as the wounded man's lungs heave roughly to take in precious oxygen.
Nny leans his head over to look at that fallen foe. What had this one done again? The common act of slamming this guy's head into the smooth, cracked surface had seemingly taken a lot out of Nny. He felt himself the one whose skull had been fractured instead of the one exerting pressure needed to inflict the damage. Johnny leans up and swivels himself around to where he is facing his victim and cocks his head to the side inquisitively.
"Oh yes," Nny states in a sudden moment of realization. "I remember now!" With a slight laugh, at his own forgetfulness, he continued. "You were the one reading that little article about me, and, in a rather vocal manner, agreed with it completely! I'm sorry, but that reporter was not only misinformed, but is actually three floors down in the "siphoning' room. See, the whole idea of someone like me actually drinking the blood of his victims is, well, very wrong. I'm doing that reporter a great favor! He misinformed the public, people like you... I'm doing this so he can know why the blood is missing. I'm sure he'll understand after he sees it happening... if he survives for that long. It's an odd occurrence if someone actually does survive for that long, hmm. But you're still alive aren't you?!" Nny finds himself in a standing position and pointing at the weak, bleeding form in front of him.
"It would be a shame to kill you now, seeing as you won't be able to appreciate it," Nny ponders with a hand raised to his chin. "Oh well, I guess I'll see you later then... when you're more alert. Right now, Squeegee's at school and I have to go leave this dead rat I found in my kitchen the other day in his bedroom so he'll see it when he comes back." Johnny walks out of the room at a hastened pace. After passing the door, Nny pops his head back in and says a kindhearted "bye" to his quarry before slamming the iron bolt door shut.
An overhead light bulb swings placidly on a string of electrical wire, failing to support the bulb with its essential electricity. The light dims and flickers a few times before radiating a final lasting burst of light and extinguishing, leaving the room to darkness.
And thus ends something if I don't find myself in a writing mood anytime soon, which is highly unlikely. Read Eagerly Vent Intentionally Every Weekday... (there's a secret message) and God... I must really be tired to have written that...
