8 years have past.

Edward has been given parole and advised to go back home, and since he'd always believed in the good nature of strangers he did exactly so. Upon returning to his town, he noticed an odd air about the retroville he called home. Maybe the 8 years in jail had changed his perspective on things, he'd dropped the soap enough times for some cogs to turn in his noodle, or maybe it was just that a few plastic flamingoes had gone askew, but he didn't feel a weight lifted from his shoulders as he saw his house. He expected to feel relieved to be back home. As he waddled down the street, that lovely mansion of his looming before him, he wondered why he felt disconnected from it all. Once he slid between the bars of the locked gate, he found out why he felt so distant.

His mansion had been sold to Mike Wazowski. As he walked through the front door, bubbling inside with a concoction of nerves and curiosity, he found the whole inside of the house to be splattered with green paint. Each step he took was echoed with the sound of crunching onion skins. Like petals the onion skins had been strewn across the floor. Eddie found Mike Wazowski modelling for Shrek in the foyer. Shrek was finger-painting, but keep in mind that nobody ever mention that he was good at it.

'Zoinks! Get the fuck off my property!' Mike Wazowski said, sitting on his favourite stool drinking lighter fluid.

Eddie did as Mike Wazowski asked and left the house. But while sliding back out between the gate bars Mike Wazowski threw a box at Eddie. Letters spilled out of the box, all of them were addressed to Eddie and were from Hugh Jackman. Edward sat outside what used to be his home and read each letter. Hugh was very upset that Eddie didn't arrive at his bon voyage party and even more distraught when he hadn't heard of Edward ever again. Edward Scissorhands was suddenly filled with an urge to see Hugh Jackman again, so he began his walk across America again. This time, he just might never come back to his old home.

A week later he arrived at Hugh's Miami home for the first time. Hugh was outside washing the boomerang car with Johnny Depp, but Johnny was kind of just rolling around on the hood of the car getting sudsy, chewing on a cigarette.

'Hugh,' Johnny mumbled, gesturing for Hugh to come over from the hose, 'Can you light me up?'

'Alright.' Hugh turned to get from his back pocket the lighter, they way he pivoted on his torso really contoured his abs and Eddie was taken back 8 years ago. He could even smell Australia again. Hugh also noticed a smell waft towards him; the pungent smell of insecurity, and gagged. Only one man could make him choke up like that, it must've been Eddie. Hugh looked up from searching his pocket and saw Edward standing at the fence line of his beach house.

'Edward?' Hugh's velvety Australian accent caressed his eardrums like a woman rubbing ointment on a child's stomach.

'Yes it is Edward.' He whispered, his throat had dried up.

'What'd y'say?' Hugh couldn't hear him.

'It is I, Edward Scissorhands.'

'Hugh, I'm not lit u-up!' Johnny chirped. With the lack of reaction Johnny turned his head to see how his attention had been diverted. Johnny immediantly sat up when he saw the pasty figure before them. Concern wrote itself over his face. 'Hugh don't talk to him.'

'Hello Mr Johnny Depp.'

Johnny scrambled up and stood beside Hugh, pointing a hostile finger at Eddie. He shook his head anxiously, 'You should not be here.'

'Edward...' Hugh's eyes darted all across Eddie in an attempt to try and understand what had happened for those 8 years. So much had happened and it could've been so different if Eddie was there. 'I haven't heard of you in...'

'8 years, Mr Jackman. I have been gone 8 years.'

'You knew this guy?' Johnny choked, he could feel some blood vessels bursting, 'Hugh. You knew this guy. 8 years.' Johnny was having difficulty reigning in the tension that was swelling up inside of him, he was in disbelief that this was actually happening.

'What... what happened Edward? I mean where did you go what did you do?' Edward could hear the strain in Hugh's voice.

'I was arrested for murdering 7 people.'

Hugh brought his hands to his heart, his breath taken away by the scrawny leather-clad man before him.

'God you're horrible person.' Hugh breathed, shaking his head as a smile crawled onto his face. 'I deserve so much better than you, but that's why I want you. You make me feel like I'm doing charity.'

'Jesus christ.' Johnny groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

'I apologize for being away Mr Jackman, but I am here now. I feel drawn to you as you do to I. Let us enjoy one ano-'

'STOP. GET OFF THIS PROPERTY YOU FREAK OF NATURE.' Johnny threw his cigarette at Eddie, making him yelp in pain.

'EDDIE!' Hugh ran over to Edward to attend to the man who now lay strewn across the floor, shrieking in 2 second intervals. Hugh threw his head back to look at Johnny. 'LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE YOU MONSTER!'

Hugh then hallucinated that Johnny was a crocodile and subsequently wrestled him. Well, he tried to wrestle him. It was like trying to hold soap since Johnny was all sudsy. Johnny shrieked. Edward shrieked. Hugh shrieked. Johnny got impaled.

'WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED YOU HAVE FUCKING CLAWS WHEN THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN'

Hugh returned back to his normal self and saw what he'd done, the war front his yard had become.

'No Johnny Depp you can't die! Think of Tim Burton!' Hugh dropped down to his knees, the crippling weight of what just happened dropping down on him. He stroked Johnny's hair, desperately trying to comfort him in what just might be his final hour.

At 2.49 PM on a Thursday, during a particularly breezy summer, Johnny Donna Depp died after being impaled by Hugh Jackman in Miami. His last words, 'fuck.'

Hugh Jackman and Edward Scissorhands decided that they needed to bury the body. But lacking the shovel, they put him up in a tree in the park.

A/N

good ole deputy repp's middle name is in acknowledgement of my momma whose name is Donna since today is in fact Mother's Day. I wrote her a poem and made her a box to put stuff in, the poem goes as follows:

Dear mum,

without you I'd be a bum

I'm a tree and you're the sun

you give me a face

that I can't replace

so I'm lucky it's a good one

we make food and watch the ood

and even when I'm in a mood

you're nice to me

and that is why I'm so lucky

Mum,

don't make me a bum.