By animeninjaNIPPON

Another night at the 24/7, maybe five hours until dawn. Squee was there again, this time of his own decision. The last time he had been there so late, he had been sent by his father: "If your going to stick around this fucking house, do something useful and go get me a beer." When the teen commented that there were none in the fridge, his parental then instructed him to "go out and get one," apparently oblivious to the fact that Squee was only seventeen (although he seemed younger). Now he was there because his folks were fighting again and he didn't want to stay long enough to become the scapegoat.

The clerk eyed him angrily. "You gonna buy something?"

"I-I'm still looking," Squee lied. He had no money with him, he had basically gone to the 24/7 because, as its name suggested, it was the only place open at that hour that admitted people under twenty-one.

"Well, look faster." Evidently, that clerk hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while.

"I'll just go." Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he walked out and across the street.

As he trudged down the sidewalk toward his house, he passed one of those hot Gothic nightclubs where everybody wore black and did the same dance as everyone else in an effort to express their "individuality." The girl at the front of a long line to get in, who wore too much make-up and smoked a clove cigarette, was bitching about how some fat guy did not know how to wear a dress properly. Needless to say, Squee didn't look in her direction.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone this late."

Squee looked behind him. It was Johnny, standing with his hands behind his back. "I was going into that nightclub up there," the older man continued, "but I saw you and thought, 'A little Squee like that shouldn't be walking through this God-awful neighborhood by himself.' You really shouldn't, you know - so many worthless wastes of human bodies..." He glanced back at the club. "You weren't thinking of going in there, were you?"

"No," Squee replied. "I was just going home."

"Let me get my car - I'll take you. Just tell me which way to go."

The dark-haired adolescent wasn't about to tell a homicidal maniac where he lived. And if he let Johnny drive him home, they would most likely end up having to stop to let his escort teach some bastard a fatal lesson in not pissing Johnny off. "No thanks," he declined nervously. "I'm almost there. Just one more street." He tried to sound more polite and less argumentative, and he hoped Johnny would recognize the difference.

The latter glanced up at the late-night sky. "Well...OK." He turned and walked away, adding, "Just watch out for those hideous freak troll babies who will slit your throat and shoot up your blood."

That last comment made Squee's hair stand on end, and with a delicate "Squeek!" he ran home, slightly vowing to himself not to leave the house after 6pm anymore.

-----

"You're not happy anymore, Nny," Rev. MEAT had mentioned earlier that evening.

"When the fuck was I ever 'happy'?" Johnny snapped.

"Don't you remember...her?"

"...Devi?..." He paused thoughtfully.

"Yes, you told me about her. But there was another...she was even closer to you...I remember it clearly."

Johnny snapped out of his vague trance and stepped over to the statuette, hovering over it menacingly. "I would NEVER let someone get that close to me! I am not a slave to desire!"

"You've been telling me this for...almost a decade. Yet you still don't realize how badly you want to live normally."

"I DO want to live a normal life! I KNOW this! And I'm tired of listening to bullshit!"

"I'm only here to help you, Nny. And that's what I'm trying to do."

Johnny's expression softened. "What do you think I should do?"

"Go out. Have fun."

"You know what?" Johnny said, heading toward the door. "I think I will."

-----

He decided to head for the nightclub, so he parked his crappy little car in the 24/7 parking lot, and for once didn't run into any drunken assholes along the way. He plodded along, keeping to himself as much as possible, toward the long line of superficial pseudo-Goths desperately trying to free themselves from their self-inflicted oppression.

He hated to think about it, but he was beginning to wonder if Rev. MEAT had a point. Maybe in order to be happy, he did have to give in. But was leading a normal, shallow life really any better than living a life of depression and insanity?

Johnny closed his eyes briefly to relive his most recent immortalized moment. He felt nothing but a slight wave of contentment, but with each passing day and the increased moments of recalling blank periods of time, it was hard to recall the details properly anymore, or even remember that it actually happened. Was it all a dream? Impossible - he didn't sleep. Or maybe he slept without realizing it - that would explain the blackouts...

When he reopened his eyes, he noticed that he was across the street. A few feet ahead of him was a familiar-looking boy...

He followed the kid. It was Squeegee, all right - walking at the speed of the fatigued flow of time. That said, it didn't take long for Johnny to catch up...

"You shouldn't be walking home alone this late."

The pale teen turned his head and slowed to a stop.

"I was going into that nightclub up there," Johnny explained, "but I saw you and..."

He continued to warn Squee about the dangers of walking through such a fucked-up neighborhood alone, then offered the kid a ride, which he politely declined (though out of etiquette or anxiety, Nny couldn't tell). As he walked away, he heard Squee give a little "Squeek!" of fear and run away.

Completely foregoing the club and not even bothering to pop into the nearby convenience store, the maniac got into his car and drove home, backing over a squirrel as he left the parking lot.

When he got home, the first thing Rev. MEAT inquired was, "How was it?"

"I saw Squee again," Johnny responded in a vague, "shit happens" tone of voice.

"Squee..." Rev. MEAT repeated. "You've mentioned that name before. This is someone you know..."

"He was a neighbor of mine."

A look of nostalgia crossed the figure's plastic face, as though it was a long-lost memory. "That child who gave you the Band-Aids."

Johnny froze. "You remember..."

"Do you remember when he left?"

"I dunno." Johnny plopped down on the couch to watch some mindless TV.

"I do." Rev. MEAT's voice grew louder. "It was a long time ago. A can of Spagettios fell on your head, giving you a minor cut. You went to his house, but he wasn't there...And then..."

"You're lying!"

"No, I remember."

"You don't remember a fucking thing! It's MY memory, not yours! You're just putting shit in my head, just like the doughboys..."

Having lost his original thought, he turned up the volume on the TV.

End of part three