"Chris, why are you doing this?"
"I'm not doing anything, Ligouri."
"Just take a fucking look at yourself! You're chasing after me! What type of Chris are you?"
"The one you loved, Peej."
PJ was now surrounded by several Chris's, happy, sad, depressed, angry, corrupted, lovesick and a Chris, who was only in white tones. The original, corrupted Chris walked up to PJ and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.
"See that white Chris, there? That's your Chris. A mix of all of us."
PJ turnt violently and began to run to the white Chris, opening his arms. When he got to him, he thought he was hugging this lifeless, real Chris - when he just faded away. PJ opened his eyes.
"He's gone, Ligouri. You have to fight for the real, genuine Chris."
PJ turnt around and pulled out the butchers knife.
"Come on then, fight me."
Chris lunged at PJ, holding the blade. PJ ducked, feeling the sense of anxiety come back. Trying to shake it off, PJ ran in another direction, slashing all the other Chris's so they faded away, probably never to be seen again. Chris followed after him, becoming faster and faster with each footstep. PJ suddenly turned around and held the blade right infront of him, expecting Chris to walk straight into it. Chris stopped dead. He looked up and gave that stupid, toothy grin.
"You look so stupid when you do that!" PJ screamed, trying to slash Chris's torso.
"Do I? You look stupid anyway." Chris laughed, and dodged every slash PJ was making.
PJ felt like giving up, this was stupid. He was fighting for something he thought he couldn't win. Wait...hang on a tic, fighting for something he thought he couldn't win. PJ realised this could be in two contexts, trying to win a fight, or fighting for love. Love, what a word. Maybe love could be an answer, sometimes. So now he had to get Chris to drop the weapon in order to deploy what he thought was a fantastic plan.
"Chris, do you want to fight fist to fist? Sounds better than jabbing one another..."
"Why not fists and knives, Ligouri? I know what you're trying to make me do, drop the weapon. I'm not stupid, unlike some people." Chris faked a yawn, he then giggled.
Damn, PJ pondered what to do. Perhaps, he should just fight and accept his fate. PJ lunged, and so did Chris. Their blades collided, creating a noise that they would've done in the movies, except this was real. PJ was fighting his best friend for love and companionship. Chris grabbed his shirt by the collar, pulled him back and pulled the blade to his neck, frightened, PJ began to shake and dropped his knife. The grip got tighter, and Chris began to laugh manically, PJ's last moments were dawning on him...