A Little Story About a Boy Named Johnny C.

By Nee Dot Remains

+(o)+

Disclaimer: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and all related characters and such does not belong to me, it belongs to Mr. Jhonen Vasquez. But considering this is the Jhonen Vasquez section of you already knew that. So please continue.

+(o)+

+CHAPTER+TWO+

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

+From Holy Sonnets by John Donne+

+Six+Years+Later+

Johnny C, now fifteen years old, sat in the center of his bed staring out the window. The blinds were pulled up so that he could see out. Unfortunately, he couldn't see much, as they lived in a city. He saw a few houses and a black sky. The street lamp in front of the house flickered on and off. On and off.

"Nny! It's time for dinner."

Johnny sighed and reached for the string at the top of the blinds. Slowly bringing them down. He didn't want to talk to his mom. They had been in a fight earlier. But he was hungry. He stood up and scanned his room before closing the door. A habit he's had for a very long time.

In the dining room his mom was setting the plates on the table. They were having spaghetti. Again. 'Is it just me, or does every American family have spaghetti every other week? Or more? That's fucking stupid.' Johnny sat down across from his mom and silently picked up the fork and twirled it in the pasta.

"Nny, I want to talk to you about what we are going to do about your detention. This is serious."

"Mom! I told you to stop calling my Nny; I'm not a kid anymore. And I also told you that it wasn't my fault! Mark pushed me into the wall first and called me a fag. It's not like I could get away without swinging." Johnny re-told the whole story with a lot of animated gestures. Johnny's mom just sighed and gave him a stern look.

"Violence is never the answer. There are other ways to handle these things."

"If violence is never then what is? You can't always talk it out! Believe me, I'd rather negotiate but Mark certainly didn't want to."

"Nny… you don't understand." She sighed and ate a bite of spaghetti.

"Don't- ugh… whatever, mom." He got up with his plate and went to his room.

SLAM.

Mrs. C looked down at his empty seat before continuing to eat.

"God, I cannot stand that woman! 'Oh, I am a psychiatrist, I know everything about anything!' Bullshit! Jeezus." Johnny was sprawled out on his bed; face down cursing into the pillow. He turned his head to the side to get some air. He looked at the clock. It read 7:45PM in red glowing letters.

"… Fuck. I missed my show."

He sat up and stared off into his room. 'I know she's lying about Randy, too. He isn't just a friend.' He grabbed his statue of a tiki man and threw it against the wall. It shattered into pieces. 'I hate him. I hate them both.'

+I told you she was a liar.+

+END+CHAPTER+TWO+

Short isn't it? I have a tendency to make short chapters. I don't think I have ever made a long one in my life. I think my record it three pages. Oh well. Short chapters are easier to convert into comics.

It's all about that insomnia induced stupor,

Nee Dot