I am going to be the first Writer to actually have a true encounter with Johnny. After all-

Hey, what is this? Where am I? What the fook is going on?

Johnny! I'm so glad you decided to join me here at my studio!

Huh? Who are you? *pulls out a kitchen knife*

Why, I am the Writer. I am right now writing to you! Therefore allowing you to converse with me. You see, it is a rather complicated process. I am linking my computer directly to a strange machine that I found in the bowels of my basement. I just stick a picture of YOU, Johnny, under the machine, and somehow, I can talk to you through my writing. Niffy, huh?

Uh-huh. You got any brainfeezies? *puts the knife away*

I'm sorry, Johnny, but it seems that in OUR world, there is no such thing as a brainfreezie.

WHAT? NO BRAINFREEZIES? HOW THE HELL DO YOU UNCIVILIZED PEOPLE LIVE WITH YOURSELVES?!!!

Actually, we have a rather interesting little thing called a Slurpee. It also comes in Cherry flavor. It is not so unlike a Cherry Doom brainfreezie.

OOOH! I want one. Gimme!

Here. *hands him one*

*Slurp* Nummy.

Yes. Yes it is.

So, where am I?

Like I said, my studio.

And why would you risk your life by trying to talk to me? Not that I'm not thankful for this cool little Slurpee thingy.

Oh, I'm not risking my life at all. As far as I can ration, what I'm typing (and correct me if I'm wrong) is kind of being "spoken" into your head. Your thoughts back come a whizzing back onto my computer screen. Niffy, huh? YOU'RE still in your city. I cannot be touched by you.

Ah, she is smart! Since we have conversed all this time and I haven't found a reason to kill you yet, you may call me Nny.

Thank you Nny. And so, I shall conclude this conversation by saying that we WILL talk again. So, Nny, don't kill yourself, and readers, be ready for another convo between a homicidal maniac and a real-life Writer.