Author's Note: This is a slightly boring patent introduction chapter. For
this story since I have a lot more time, I'm going to reply to each of my
reviews individually....so far I've only gotten one review *hugs lone
reviewer*
TheUndeadRabbitWhichLives: Thank you! I'm glad you like my stories. I love that part in Squee's book too! Johnny is too cute sometimes...anyway I really do try (
The only other thing for you charming folks to take note of is that I bumped up the rating. With all the colorful nuts editions in the halfway house R will be a must. Personally I think ratings are stupid, that it's the person's own maturity level that dictates what they can read but....oh my I'm going on a tangent.
Chapter Two
Some People Have Beautiful Lives
Nny sat despairingly in the passenger seat of the van. The driver was a load of fun. He still couldn't differentiate this person as male or female. 'It' smoked and that annoyed Johnny quite a bit. He couldn't stand smokers, for some reason especially this pig.
The scenery didn't provide for much of a distraction. His group home was located somewhere on the outskirts of town, by a straight spine of railroad tracks and a factory that produced costume apparel. Nny drummed his fingers on the armrest until the driver finally rumbled out, "Have you looked at any of those papers England gave you?"
"No," Nny replied quietly.
The driver smirked, showing off its yellow crooked teeth in a mind- numbing clench around the cigarette. "Do you not know how to read?"
"Of course I know how to read. I went to school before George Bush became president didn't I?" Nny replied, glancing at the driver who was now howling with laughter at this mediocre probe at the American presidency. He sighed, sitting back more in the chair.
"Well if it did you would know what job the housemother got for you," the driver said, recovering and staring blankly at the road through jellybean eyes.
Job? Holy feet I get my own job, Nny grumbled within his mind. "Do you know what I have to do?" he moaned, sounding even more teenager-like.
"No. Why the fuck would they tell me?" the driver said. It was then silent for the rest of the ride, until he finally booted Johnny out.
The house looked like a dilapidated version of Beaver Cleaver's house, a robin's egg blue peeling to reveal a sickly sort of yellowish- green paint. The trims were all in white, lacy looking though obviously faux-Victorian. For the amount of people Nny had been told lived there the house looked from the outside rather small. The windows were overly-stuffed with plants of kinds, accented by filmy looking curtains with a large sunflower print. Nny cringed. Grass was not an issue at this place. The hot summer sun had reduced it to the consistency of a blond man's facial stubble. No wonder they had potted all the plants, though from their state this action had not done them much good.
Nny got out of the car, having the leap away to avoid having his left leg caught in the door and snapped out of its socket by the breakneck speed the driver was leaving in. As a result he obtained a large angry looking scrape, which appeared to be a close cousin to a burn from the hot tar he fell on. The skinless space ran from his bony elbow to his protruding wrist bone on the arm he had used to break his fall.
He swore loudly, wondering if he had thought to grab those papers the driver had been yammering about. Luckily and unluckily they had flown all over the lawn and the wind had picked up. Nny looked like a huge, dancing scarecrow trying to get them all before Mother Nature finished her course with them. Nobody noticed him though and the quietness of the house had made Johnny wonder whether or not this was the right place or just some relic from the 50s.
Papers firmly under his arm, Nny stood on the porch and tried the doorbell. No luck. A few more repetitive annoying rings brought an excitable looking middle-aged woman, coppery red hair done up in rollers and a horribly out of season poinsettia house dress stretched over her mild girth. Her large coppery brown eyes were wide and shining as if the Pope had been knocking her door down to talk to her. Replacing her delusion was a gaunt and impatient looking young fellow, with black hair pointing every which way at the top, a sickly yellow skin tone underlying a putrid shade of electric blue fabric that was his t-shirt (rather holy, as if it had just been picked up from the Salvation Army which of course it had) and black leather boots and faded black jeans. The clothes were somebody else's, as all his personal effects besides the boots had been 'misplaced'.
"You must been John C!" she exclaimed, pumping his hand excitedly; almost upsetting the papers once again. After she finally let go of his appendage the housemother as he supposed, a round friendly woman stepped back allowing him.
"Last time I checked," he mumbled, "Also its Johnny. It's always been Johnny."
Her grin only grew wider as the two of them stood in the drafty living room of House of Merry Acres. "Ok then Johnny. My name's Bernadette Peters!" As soon as she said this, 'Bernadette' began to waft around the house, kicking off her light pink terry cloth mules. Finally she disappeared into the kitchen. There was a loud rumble of somebody dropping pans and a lot of cutlery with the shattering of what was probably a bunch of plates. A woman screamed, "Luis you idiot! You're not supposed to be in here! I'm telling Nancy!"
Bewildered was Johnny and even more so when another woman stepped out of the woodwork. "Umm hi. Who was that?" he asked.
The woman rolled her eyes. This was one tall, almost Johnny's height and skinnier than him. She had stringy brown hair done up in a mad looking bun. Her glasses were black and huge, making her violet eyes look glittering and bug-like. Relatively young perhaps thirty she was with a limp looking carnation pink skirt and jacket with a white puffy shirt accented by a gold chain. "That was Nancy. She's a multiple personality who thinks she's Bernadette Peters....and several other people but you'll no doubt learn much more about that as time progresses. Anyway you would be our new crew member, John who prefers to be called Johnny?"
"Yes," he answered. The woman took out a clip board and scanned it. Her gaze met his again, looking rather afraid though she quickly hid it.
"As you can tell," she continued, "The government decided we didn't need a decent place to put you people so this is now House of Merry Acres and you'll be sharing a room with another guy. Don't worry everyone does, and we try to put similar people together."
"That was what the compatibility test was for?" He said this without thinking. The answer was rather obvious.
She narrowed her eyes humorously as if trying to also conceal her buggy charms. "Yes Mr. Brilliance." At once she was apologetic though Johnny figured it was mostly because she was scared shitless of him. And well that she is, he thought. He found it hilarious that they didn't actually know he was a killer, was going to kill that guy before the police got there and really wanted to do away with this bitch.
Turning on her heel in a flutter of pink she beckoned him through the kitchen where Nancy was glowering at a man who appeared relatively normal if not a little too cheerful. Johnny ignored his smile as they climbed the stairs. "Your roommate should be back in about an hour so. He has the midnight to nine shift at the factory. His name's Jimmy, arrested for attempted rape."
"Oh well that's fantastic," Johnny said as they now stood facing each other in a small room. On either side of the room was a bed, army cot style. One was made up neatly, but the other was too obviously 'lived-in'. Jimmy was obviously a pig in both the sexual and the dirty sense. Nny plunked himself down on the cot intended for him and peered out of a high window that barely got breeze blown on his hair. The next thing he noticed was that it was stifling in the room. The third was that he wished he was dead.
"So yeah well that's it. You start your job at the construction site up town, digging ditches for the new strip mall tomorrow," the pink garbed woman told him. The 'caring' house mother left without another sound from her pale lips. Johnny watched the door as it would have slammed shut had it not been severely off its hinges. He sighed extravagantly though no one was there this time to witness his angsty gesture as Nny let himself fall onto the 'bed'. The cot collapsed under even his next to nothing weight.
TheUndeadRabbitWhichLives: Thank you! I'm glad you like my stories. I love that part in Squee's book too! Johnny is too cute sometimes...anyway I really do try (
The only other thing for you charming folks to take note of is that I bumped up the rating. With all the colorful nuts editions in the halfway house R will be a must. Personally I think ratings are stupid, that it's the person's own maturity level that dictates what they can read but....oh my I'm going on a tangent.
Chapter Two
Some People Have Beautiful Lives
Nny sat despairingly in the passenger seat of the van. The driver was a load of fun. He still couldn't differentiate this person as male or female. 'It' smoked and that annoyed Johnny quite a bit. He couldn't stand smokers, for some reason especially this pig.
The scenery didn't provide for much of a distraction. His group home was located somewhere on the outskirts of town, by a straight spine of railroad tracks and a factory that produced costume apparel. Nny drummed his fingers on the armrest until the driver finally rumbled out, "Have you looked at any of those papers England gave you?"
"No," Nny replied quietly.
The driver smirked, showing off its yellow crooked teeth in a mind- numbing clench around the cigarette. "Do you not know how to read?"
"Of course I know how to read. I went to school before George Bush became president didn't I?" Nny replied, glancing at the driver who was now howling with laughter at this mediocre probe at the American presidency. He sighed, sitting back more in the chair.
"Well if it did you would know what job the housemother got for you," the driver said, recovering and staring blankly at the road through jellybean eyes.
Job? Holy feet I get my own job, Nny grumbled within his mind. "Do you know what I have to do?" he moaned, sounding even more teenager-like.
"No. Why the fuck would they tell me?" the driver said. It was then silent for the rest of the ride, until he finally booted Johnny out.
The house looked like a dilapidated version of Beaver Cleaver's house, a robin's egg blue peeling to reveal a sickly sort of yellowish- green paint. The trims were all in white, lacy looking though obviously faux-Victorian. For the amount of people Nny had been told lived there the house looked from the outside rather small. The windows were overly-stuffed with plants of kinds, accented by filmy looking curtains with a large sunflower print. Nny cringed. Grass was not an issue at this place. The hot summer sun had reduced it to the consistency of a blond man's facial stubble. No wonder they had potted all the plants, though from their state this action had not done them much good.
Nny got out of the car, having the leap away to avoid having his left leg caught in the door and snapped out of its socket by the breakneck speed the driver was leaving in. As a result he obtained a large angry looking scrape, which appeared to be a close cousin to a burn from the hot tar he fell on. The skinless space ran from his bony elbow to his protruding wrist bone on the arm he had used to break his fall.
He swore loudly, wondering if he had thought to grab those papers the driver had been yammering about. Luckily and unluckily they had flown all over the lawn and the wind had picked up. Nny looked like a huge, dancing scarecrow trying to get them all before Mother Nature finished her course with them. Nobody noticed him though and the quietness of the house had made Johnny wonder whether or not this was the right place or just some relic from the 50s.
Papers firmly under his arm, Nny stood on the porch and tried the doorbell. No luck. A few more repetitive annoying rings brought an excitable looking middle-aged woman, coppery red hair done up in rollers and a horribly out of season poinsettia house dress stretched over her mild girth. Her large coppery brown eyes were wide and shining as if the Pope had been knocking her door down to talk to her. Replacing her delusion was a gaunt and impatient looking young fellow, with black hair pointing every which way at the top, a sickly yellow skin tone underlying a putrid shade of electric blue fabric that was his t-shirt (rather holy, as if it had just been picked up from the Salvation Army which of course it had) and black leather boots and faded black jeans. The clothes were somebody else's, as all his personal effects besides the boots had been 'misplaced'.
"You must been John C!" she exclaimed, pumping his hand excitedly; almost upsetting the papers once again. After she finally let go of his appendage the housemother as he supposed, a round friendly woman stepped back allowing him.
"Last time I checked," he mumbled, "Also its Johnny. It's always been Johnny."
Her grin only grew wider as the two of them stood in the drafty living room of House of Merry Acres. "Ok then Johnny. My name's Bernadette Peters!" As soon as she said this, 'Bernadette' began to waft around the house, kicking off her light pink terry cloth mules. Finally she disappeared into the kitchen. There was a loud rumble of somebody dropping pans and a lot of cutlery with the shattering of what was probably a bunch of plates. A woman screamed, "Luis you idiot! You're not supposed to be in here! I'm telling Nancy!"
Bewildered was Johnny and even more so when another woman stepped out of the woodwork. "Umm hi. Who was that?" he asked.
The woman rolled her eyes. This was one tall, almost Johnny's height and skinnier than him. She had stringy brown hair done up in a mad looking bun. Her glasses were black and huge, making her violet eyes look glittering and bug-like. Relatively young perhaps thirty she was with a limp looking carnation pink skirt and jacket with a white puffy shirt accented by a gold chain. "That was Nancy. She's a multiple personality who thinks she's Bernadette Peters....and several other people but you'll no doubt learn much more about that as time progresses. Anyway you would be our new crew member, John who prefers to be called Johnny?"
"Yes," he answered. The woman took out a clip board and scanned it. Her gaze met his again, looking rather afraid though she quickly hid it.
"As you can tell," she continued, "The government decided we didn't need a decent place to put you people so this is now House of Merry Acres and you'll be sharing a room with another guy. Don't worry everyone does, and we try to put similar people together."
"That was what the compatibility test was for?" He said this without thinking. The answer was rather obvious.
She narrowed her eyes humorously as if trying to also conceal her buggy charms. "Yes Mr. Brilliance." At once she was apologetic though Johnny figured it was mostly because she was scared shitless of him. And well that she is, he thought. He found it hilarious that they didn't actually know he was a killer, was going to kill that guy before the police got there and really wanted to do away with this bitch.
Turning on her heel in a flutter of pink she beckoned him through the kitchen where Nancy was glowering at a man who appeared relatively normal if not a little too cheerful. Johnny ignored his smile as they climbed the stairs. "Your roommate should be back in about an hour so. He has the midnight to nine shift at the factory. His name's Jimmy, arrested for attempted rape."
"Oh well that's fantastic," Johnny said as they now stood facing each other in a small room. On either side of the room was a bed, army cot style. One was made up neatly, but the other was too obviously 'lived-in'. Jimmy was obviously a pig in both the sexual and the dirty sense. Nny plunked himself down on the cot intended for him and peered out of a high window that barely got breeze blown on his hair. The next thing he noticed was that it was stifling in the room. The third was that he wished he was dead.
"So yeah well that's it. You start your job at the construction site up town, digging ditches for the new strip mall tomorrow," the pink garbed woman told him. The 'caring' house mother left without another sound from her pale lips. Johnny watched the door as it would have slammed shut had it not been severely off its hinges. He sighed extravagantly though no one was there this time to witness his angsty gesture as Nny let himself fall onto the 'bed'. The cot collapsed under even his next to nothing weight.