AN: Please, forgive the lack of exclaimation points in an area of the first chapter of this weird story, please. I tried to put them in...But, alas, I am not a computer genius, and so when I edited it and it didn't work the first two times, I just kind of figured it wouldn't after that so I gave up. My ambition and determination is inspiring, isn't it? Anyway, here's the next beautiful chapter of this terrible...Fic...If could even be called that I suppose. Um, I'm not quite sure where its going, ideas and suggestion's are always read, accepted and carefully and seriously considered, and flames will be magically teleported back to you in your sleep and you shall dream that you burned alive for 16 days and 16 nights! (I dunno where 16 came from. Just a random number. hehe.) I apologize for the length of time it took for this chapter to get up.

The Management

Summer Colors:

ChApTeR tWo: I've Been Changing:

Slowly, Jhonen opened his eyes to his surroundings.

God dammit. I hate this...He thought weakly, his glasses were missing, and it was difficult to see. And one thing bugged him about that; He hadn't taken them off.

"Ugh...Wonderful...Just perfect..." He said, rolling off of his back, and feeling around for them on his hands and knees. He either needed severely to clean his bed and room or change his sheets. They felt...Dusty, almost.

Squinting, he swished his hands around, feeling for them. Clouds of dust kicked up, and he fell back, supporting himself with one arm, coughing into the hand that belonged to the other arm.

"Where the hell am I, and where are my glasses?" he whispered to himself.

"Here. Don't worry. I didn't want you to roll over and break them or something so I simply took them off your face." a voice said, and he felt his glasses being thrown into his lap. He put them on, but they were filthy.

His eyebrows furrowed in worry. Where could he possibly be? To be in such dusty conditions, his glasses to be so caked with what seemed to be a mud mixture of dust and condensation. Condensation from what, he didn't really want to know. Clammy hand sweat, dampness...Nope. Not really something he wanted to think about, but he couldn't see with them the way they were, so he cleaned them off, and put them back on his face.

He looked up and around, and stood, dusting himself off.

"Oh...God. Where am I?" he asked, looking around the room, and then at the eerily familiar stranger in front of him.

"My name is Johnny C., but you can call me-"

"Nny." he finished for Nny.

Johnny gave him a strange look. "Do I know you?"

"No, I don't think so, but I know you. Very well." Jhonen said, "I created you, Johnny."

Nny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don't look big and fat and lazy..." he said.

"No, no. I created that God. I...Um...I made you. Him. Eff and Psycho-Doughboy. Squee. Devi. Senior Diablo. Even Pepito. I invented you. Anne Gwish. Tess and Dillon. You're a comic book character. Waaaiit..I know. This is all just a bad dream. Pishf. As if I've ever had a good one. But I know I'll just wake up and all of this will go away, and I'll never have been happier to wake up in my bed." He said, worrily.

All he could see was a cover to one of JTHM comics. Nny's headstone. It had said, "Here lies Johnny. Don't cry, he would've killed you too." What if...Nny killed him? What if he never left this dimension again? He knew no good could come from sleep!

"So would you care to elaborate a little on that? How exactly do you know about all of those people? And if you are telling the truth, why on Earth would you create Anne Gwish! And then put her in the same comic book with me! And Krik, Holy Jeez, we need to have a talk about creating people so ignorant that they'd kick me in the face with a major head-wound! Who does that!" he asked, waving his hands about dramatically.

"Well, Anne Gwish was meant to be a comic relief. I'm sorry if I offended you. And Krik was meant to represent the assholes of the world. And why do you believe me?" he asked, shocked.

"Because no one knows about my voices. Well, except Devi. I don't suppose you have any proof I'm a cartoon character, do you?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, actually, I do!" he said excitedly. He pulled out a doodle he'd done on the back of a reciept he'd gotten for a cup of coffee at a 7/11. It was of Johnny with a little pen and Noodle Boy next to him.

"...This is all very...Interesting." he said, "If you created me, then do you know what happened to me? To make me who I am?"

"No."

"WHAT! God DAMMIT! Not even my fucking CREATOR can tell me what my FUCKING ORIGINS ARE!" he screamed, picking up a block of dry, crumbling wood and throwing it at the stone wall. It puffed into a cloud of grayish-tan dust, and slowly settled. He wished he'd thrown something that made a louder noise than just 'Puuuuhhhhhhhh'.

"I created you out of the encounters I had had with assholes in my... uh... dimension, I'd suppose it'd be called. You're completely based on things that I can't say on a soap box without getting sniped. I made about you, who has taken a complete flying leap over the edge, to prevent from doing so myself. You're how I deal with a bad day. You haven't quite mastered the art of dealing with a bad day." he said.

"...So you put ME through pain, tears, blood, sweat, hate, confusion and other such things, because YOU had a bad day and can't deal with it? You're a fucking SADIST!" Johnny screamed.

"Whoa! Hold on! You were never meant to be real!" he said, "You're a comic book. This is just a bad dream." he said.

"BAD DREAM!" Nny screeched in disbelief hoarsly. He recomposed himself, "You know how in dreams you can't get hurt?"

Jhonen nodded, slowly. He was afraid of the answer.

"WATCH AND SEE IF THIS DOESN'T HURT!" Johnny screamed, picking up a small dagger with a reddish spiral handle, "You want a bad fucking dream! I'll SHOW you a bad goddamn fucking dream!" He leapt at Jhonen, trying to impale him in the chest. Jhonen moved to the side, and instead Nny knicked his arm. It tore his dark blue tee shirt, and put a good sized slice in his arm.

"Ow, hey!" he said, "Who are you to attack me? I made you!" he said, his eyebrows furrowing.

Johnny gripped the handle of the dagger so hard it began to abrade, "Every person I've killed...They all had it coming. They all did something to make me so messed up. All those kids who laughed at me when I was young. Everyone who laughs at me now. Every victim had something to do with the creation the killer. Of all of them, you're the worst. You made THEM too, you brought them on! You MADE my life a living, no I take that back, a DRAWN hell! You put me through all of that. Do you have ANY idea at ALL what I've been THROUGH!" he screamed.

"No, I'm inane. Of COURSE I know what you've been through! I wrote it that way! The only reason you even exist is because I had a bad day!"

"So...Because you had a bad day, I get to go through a lifetime of pain and suffering?"

I never really thought of it that way.

Of course you didn't think of it that way. When you made him he was just ink and paper. You never thought you'd meet him in real life. Well, whatever realm this is. This 2 dimensional world that you're living in. How wonderful.

But he does have a point. I passed on my beliefs and...uh...disorders, I guess, to him so that he could suffer along with me.

But, again, he's not a real person. He's of ink. Pen, ink, and white paper, constructed of that fun little world you live in. A blur of faces, snide comments by assholes, and he was the outlet for that. Your own, personal little soap box on which you stand and state your opinion.

Yes. This is true. But right now, I can't think about that. I have to think of him, and that will save my life. I hope.

What do you mean you 'hope'? You made him! You should KNOW what will save your life and what won't.

Jhonen looked around. He suddenly had an idea. He grabbed a knife that rested on pegs that stuck out of the wall. It was definitely bigger than Nny's, and had a little smiley-face at the butt of it.

"And just what do you intend to do with that? You know who I am. You know what I'm capable of." Johnny said, a smug smile appearing on his face. He loved a good fight.

"I know exactly what you're capable of. I created you. Use some of the common sense I gave you. Don't you think that if you're as warped and twisted as you are, I would be equally, or even more so than you?" he asked.

"...Valid point." he said, slowly lowering his weapon, as did Jhonen, "So how did you get here?" Johnny asked, surprisingly casually.

"I fell asleep on my bed. Utter exhaustion, I'd assume. And, as usual, it was terrifying. Even more so when I woke up in the basement of house 777." he said, smiling.

"I suppose that would give even the strongest man a surge of fear." Nny said, and escorted Jhonen up to the ground level.

Jhonen sat on the couch, wondering about his current situation. How could such a...what could this be called? Warp in dimensions? Well, he supposed so, for the time. How could it happen? And why to him? As if having to go to a hospital on his birthday that one year and having that tube in his chest and all that just...wonderful, glorious vivid pain wasn't bad enough. He had to be thrown into another dimension. B-E-A-utiful.

Bruce Almighty? Since when do I quote things like that?

I don't know. Back to track, though. Why you? What the hell did you ever do to deserve this?

I don't know. I try to do the exact opposite of abetting, I never thought of my self as pusillanimous, or inane, or anything of that genre of moron.

Well, Jhonen, this is quite a wonderful heartrending thing, for lack of a better word, that you're in right now. What do you plan to do? Hope that it's only a ephemeral time-span? Or wait until you go back to sleep? Maybe reverse the cycle, or whatever the hell it is you're caught in?

No, no. That would take too long, too much exertion. I just woke up. It'll be days before I sleep again. If it was the whole sleep process thing, it could be easily fixed, if I didn't hold such seething contempt for the act of slumber.

Tell me something I don't know. Right now we have to work on some way to make it all just go away. You could take a Johnny way out of this and go over the stars. Lord knows that he's got enough means in this house by which to do it.

Shut up. You're going to get me aggravated and then my mind will be fogged up and I'll be hebetated and all that great junk.

Hey, you decided aberrant was the way to go about life, don't snap at me. I'm trying to help you.

Are you trying to force me to abjure or something? And since when are we not one person? Have you forgotten you're part of me? Hmm?

Oh, can it, with your one-track censure. I don't wish to spend copious amounts of time with this lunatic.

I made this lunatic, ok, and I like him just fine. However, I don't ever recall having a pretty little conversation with you like this ever before so, if you'd be so kind, please tell me just exactly which part of my psyche you are.

I'm the voice of reason, here. It's no surprise to me that you don't remember who I am, I mean you were just a kid when you blocked me out. You've been under a sick delusion for quite a while.

Voice of reason?

Yes, pet, have you heard of me?

Don't get cute, kiddo. I was never under a 'sick delusion', I see things how they are. You distort them into what I'd like to believe. Because I choose to believe different things. Help me get out of here so I can block you out for another 20 something years.

Kiddo?

Yes. Kiddo. You're my little conscience, you're kiddo if I say so.

Ok, fine. I'm kiddo if you want me to be, pet, but um...We still have this one little problem.

What's that?

YOU'RE STILL IN A TWO DIMENSIONAL WORLD! Wake the hell up, Jhonen, and get your ass the hell out of here!

Alright, alright. No need to yell.

Jhonen grew nervous at his situation. As if he wasn't to start with, but there was only so much time before people began to notice his absence.

"Are you hungry or thirsty?" Johnnys voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Um, slightly. Wanna go to a Seven-Elev...A TwentyFour-Seven?" he asked, realizing he was to go to an invented place.

"Yes. Cherry?" Nny asked.

"Yeah. Of course." Jhonen replied.

"We're off then."

"Indeed."

And on they went to the 24/7 in town.

AN: Big thanks to all who review. Sorry it was so short.

Ok. This is to the anonymous reviewer of the story True Happiness who went under the reveiwing name of "A REAL Nny Fan" or some other great bullshit name like that. Ok, first, men CAN be raped. As a matter of fact, accoording to a statistic from a study of which the name eludes me at the present moment, but I WILL look it up, almost half of all reported rape victims are male. So, that being said, men can be raped. Even by definition; Being forced to preform sexual acts against ones will. Second, if you must announce to the universe and all parallel to this one that you are a fan of something, even more, a true fan, you're, more often then not, trying to fit in with a certain crowd of people who also (and probably originally) enjoy this object, ideal, and/or belief thing. Third, who are you to speak for a one Mr. Jhonen Vasquez, as though you know him, as though you are in his mind? Unless you actually are him (which I seriously doubt because he seems to be much more well-spoken then you), I doubt that you know why he stopped creating comics, and I definitely doubt that you know for a fact that the True Happiness story would make him sick. Now, this, Summer Colors, is not so much on what he thinks as it is a prediction of his reaction if he ever met Johnny. I don't claim to know him personally or any of the like. Theres a difference between assuming and predicting. I do hold nothing but the most respect for such an intellegent person, and this is why I write these things. I play with what might happen, what if, what if, what if, and again, what if. And, no, Anonymous Chicken (a name I have so kindly dubbed you, because if you really wanted to make a point, you wouldn't have reveiwed anonymously), you could not ever possibly be a "real" JV/JtHM fan, because if you were, you would not just start barking orders like Hitler and try to tell people how to think, and that they're wrong for thinking agaisnt what you believe. (But...Then again...I suppose that is the whole point to the amendments. If there are such things. America. I roll my eyes. One is never truly free, if you ask me. But you didn't, so I'll get back on track before I start rambling. Again.) In saying that, the entire point of Johnny The Homocidal Maniac and all branches off of it went so far over your head that using a jetpack and a net wouldn't be useful in retreiving it for you. I shall not provide further acknowledgement and respect to you, most vile form of human life (aka; Asshole), by addressing the matter further.

Thanks,

The Management