AN: Mi hermano, Robbie, made a story about that infernal Grand Theft Auto game. San Andreas. It's a Dawn of the Dead parody or something. Not sure. But he can't have an account (MOM SEZ!) and so he posted it on mine because like an idiot I chose to keep myself logged in for 3 days. And he had the worst time trying to upload it. HA! That's what he gets! Evil thing that he is. Anyway, I'm sick to my stomach with whether I have the ability to make this as good a Summer Colors. It's supposed to have a slightly sadder tone, but I suppose it will pick up later on. I didn't know how badly everyone would react to Jhonen loving someone. God. You guys must hate his guts or something. It just seems like you want him to suffer. (I heard from a review in Summer Colors that it's said he's a jerk. I don't think it's very true. But then again, I've never had the pleasure of knowing him in private. I suppose it would be quite something. Oh yeah. Mr. Vasquez owns Johnny and all Johnny-related subject matter, and he owns himself. We hope, anyway.) I don't know. I make it up as I go along. I didn't even have a plot when I picked out the title. He he. AHHH...choo... Oh, and by the way, I have a new SN for aim. JoeyRamonesGrl. I'm usually on. Feel free to IM me.

November Air:

Chapter Two: That Horror-Film Feeling:

As he climbed out of the shower, he stumbled. His sides and muscles ached. He pulled on some relatively clean clothes, and a jacket. Walking outside, he could see his breath. He'd been wrong. His house was slightly warmer than the freezing night air.

But not by much.

He started his car, and drove to his cliff.

Maybe if I jumped off... He thought briefly, but lost it. In a flash it was gone. Like a thought he couldn't remember thinking or how it came into his head. That irked him.

A rustle in the bushes sounded behind him, and he turned around. Not that he cared. Whoever was back there would meet an untimely end. After all...He was, still, quite horrendously insane...

Devi waltzed out of the bushes. An almost smug look rested on her face.

God...What could she want? Did she know I was up here?

"Hey," she said, softly, "I saw you turn your headlights off. So I figured I'd come see how you were doing. I saw Squee, and he said you hadn't come out of your house in almost a month."

"He keeps track?" he said, his voice raspy and weak. The vomiting earlier had something to do with it, he suspected. It could also be that he had no one to talk to anymore. Nail Bunny was gone. The Doughboys were gone. He wondered...Just maybe...

Maybe Jhonen tried to fix me after he went home...Or, after Kaz, he tried to...Maybe he actually tried to make my life worse. Perhaps punish me or something of the like.

But no. Maybe Jhonen was ignoring him completely now. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe this time, he'd done it to himself.

No.

No.

That was impossible. That fucking maggot controlled everything that went on in his life. Maybe he really was ignoring him, and his world was crumbling.

"I hate him." He muttered.

"What'd Squee ever do to you?" she asked, always keeping at least three feet between them.

"Nothing...Nothing. Don't worry about it. Not Squee. You've but to look at him to feel a certain affection for him. No one could ever truly hate such an innocent thing, like Todd." He said, distantly.

She thought he could be pondering his own innocence.

God knows I should be questioning my own. The things I've done. Heinous acts committed with the feeblest of excuses. Insanity isn't a good enough defense if I were ever to be arrested and charged for the murder of countless 'innocent' people. God...Sometimes I hate myself.

"I just wanted to know if you were alright. I mean, I don't know why, after all, you did-"He cut her off.

"Try to kill you, yeah. I know. Sorry about that. I was going through a rough patch, I guess. Will you ever let it rest?"

"What kind of rough patch leads you to the murder of dozens!"

"More like hundreds." Johnny corrected, not even thinking, "No patch as rough as the one I seem to be in at the moment. Filled with jagged rocks, and pitted with steep craters. It's absolutely revolting. Like a teenagers face."

She smiled. "Ok. You work through whatever it is you need to work through." She said, and backed away, not taking her eyes off him until she was far enough away to run. She didn't think he'd come after her. He was in his zone. But still. Take no chances.

She fears me. Jhonen didn't fear me. He jumped directly on my back while I had 'that look', as he calls it. God. This is insane. Ooh, wouldja look at that. I've finally caught up with myself. I wonder if I'll ever see him again. I wonder if he still has all those little peeves and ticks that he had before...

Of course he did, Johnny knew. He smiled to himself. Who the hell had to molest you as a child to achieve the level of warped Jhonen was? Is? Who knew what tense to use. It was Jhonen Vasquez.

I don't think he knew what he had. Or maybe he did. Most people would kill to have his life. To just have something to worry about. Something. A job. A family member. Something worth the time and energy to care about. He's just happy to be alive. Not grateful for a damned thing else. To him, the rest is just icing on the cake of Life.

This thought burned Johnny. Nny would rather be dead. The city was so beautiful. It was snowing. Gently. The flakes of snow glowed in the moonlight. It seemed to be a cloudless night, as though the flakes were falling from nowhere.

He thought of just laying back and letting them cover him, just enough for him to freeze to death. Indirect suicide.

Instead, he stared out into the gray horizon.

"...Up and away from this room, and this bed, and the oppressive inevitability of sleep..."

He ran a hand through his unnaturally colored hair. What was with that chill earlier?

It was so hauntingly familiar.

Haunting...

No. It couldn't be. He'd done what was intended for him to do. He didn't want to deal with it. Suddenly, he felt the need to get out a pen. And paper. And draw. Anything at all. Stereo blasting, just draw anything. Let his hand do the talking.

Alice could wait. This was slightly more important.

Was it?

Maybe the things he intended to do balanced each other out.

He glanced at the small velvet box he'd put on the dresser. In it contained 24 karats of gold and diamond. A mere proclamation of his 'love'.

So you finally found it.

Suddenly a foul feeling entered his stomach. A lump of anxiety, and fear. His arms felt like he touched a wet hairdryer. He knew it was adrenaline pumping through his veins. His hand, though shaky, continued to draw, but his eyes were only seeing white. He recognized that voice. He didn't want to answer it. But he knew if he didn't say something that it would taunt him and co hearse him into an argument by some means.

...What's going on?

You finally found your ever-needed connection.

You led me to it.

I know. Planning on asking her to marry you, Jhonen? Very uncharacteristic of you, is this deed. This action, no, no, not like you at all. Is it? What happened to you, Jhonen? Is this the end? Do you honestly think if you marry her, your need for psychiatric assistance will go away?

What the hell is this? Years ago you were pestering me to 'come out of my shell' and feel something for someone. I did. I found Alice Leben. Soon to be Alice Vasquez. Get off my back.

Are you doing this because you really think you love her? Do you have faith that she might love you as well?

Shut up! This is something I know is solid.

Sure about that, aren't you?

No.

No what? You're not sure?

No, I'm not going to let you.

Let me what? You're making no sense again, Jhonen.

You're not going to defile the only real, pure thing I've ever had.

Don't give me so much credit. I just ask the questions. You determine the answers. It's kind of like that 'Guns don't kill people, people kill people' theory.

Don't talk to me.

Aw, shucks. I feel sad now.

Quit it. I mean it. Knock it off.

You're going to be late to a serious engagement...Pun intended.

This was making him sick. God sucked.

Stop it! STOP! I can't do that to her!

He couldn't move his hands, he couldn't see. He couldn't do anything. But he had to. The thought of Alice sitting alone in that café, angry with him for his tardiness was...

Actually kind of amusing.

But still upsetting. He couldn't just explain it away on traffic. He had to do something. He didn't know what was happening to him; he had to force himself out of this.

"No..." he whispered, and tried desperately to regain control of his hand and vision. It felt like he was encased in something. He pulled his thin frame back with all his might. He fell out of his chair. His hand had cramp and he could finally see again. He looked at the paper. It was Johnny. Lying on the floor of a bathroom. It looked like he was shivering or convulsing or something.

You have a connection to Johnny that you'll never break. Johnny was written on such an intimate, personal level that you can't ignore his pain. Even if you're not directly aware of it.

This couldn't be true. Not on any scale. Johnny was a monster. Not Jhonen.

Did you trick yourself into thinking you could be in love?

Jhonen tried to block him out. Effectively, it seemed, as the 'guardian' stopped talking. Something bothered him other than the event that just occurred. That voice...It was familiar. But in an interesting way. It wasn't the voice of his 'guardian'...At least he didn't think. Memories from long ago buzzed through his mind, his brain trying desperately trying to pull forth the memories of three years earlier.

Three year. God, it seemed so long ago. Had it only been three years? Only three?

He was beginning to wish he'd never created Johnny. Some people who read it were so small-minded, that they didn't even comprehend what they were reading. And then some people watched Invader Zim and had Zim and Dib falling in love. It made his stomach ill. Oh, so very ill, indeed.

"And to think, I considered making another Johnny series..." he muttered, grabbing the velvet box and walked out of the house.

AN: My sibling just confused me. I don't think he knows what he's talking about, but I gotta ask anyway. I was under the impression that Mr. Vasquez was Mexican. My brother just walked in and laughed in my face, saying that was just a running joke, And now I suffer in the deep black abyss of my own confusion. And sometimes, that can be a really, REALLY big abyss. Clear this up for me. Someone. In the meantime I shall try to find some interview or biography that gives me more than his DOB and high school of graduation. sigh I've got to wise up. I'm way too easily confused.