Chapter 53: Fool's Paradise

Lyrics to Kills, Kills, Kills by The Merkins (2021)

Johnny Velazquest was a total snowflake and darn proud of it.

A lot of people said that being a snowflake was a bad thing. They tossed it around the internet like this horrible insult and made jokes about snowflakes being weak. That was totally dumb and bogus. There's nothing stronger and more resilient than a snowflake. He honestly didn't get the hate...like why? What's wrong with liking the snow? People can be gearheads, beach bunnies, and gym rats, but not snowflakes? What kind of junk was that?

It was kind of like how people on Twitter and MSNBC called everyone they didn't like a racist. Look, Johnny wasn't a fan of racing, but there's nothing wrong with liking a good NASCAR event. To be sure, racing was boring because it was nothing but left turns punctuated by the occasional car crash or Let's Go Brandon chant, but Johnny didn't look down on people who liked it. Hey, at least it wasn't wrestling, right? Wrestling fans were the only group of people on earth he frowned upon. Okay, first of all, wrestling is dumb and fake. It's a soap opera with highly choreographed flips and flops (more of the latter than the former, tbh). Second, the fans are the most toxic people on the face of the earth. No, really, Johnny, as a black man, would literally rather hang out with a bunch of Nazis than to be anywhere near wrestling fans. Most wrestling fans were either for AEW or WWE and they acted like Republicans and Democrats: That is, they were both insufferable beeps who could drive a monk to murder. Then there were the dirt sheet writers who -

You know, nevermind. Wrestling is so niche that no half way normal person would know what he was talking about and none would care. All you had to do to see that was look at WWE and AEW's ratings. In 2000, WWE was drawing 7 million people a week. Now it's lucky to get two if it pulls out all the stops and sacrifices a jobber from NXT to the spirit of Vincent McMahon Sr. AEW was lucky to get a million. A million. Meanwhile, there were these teenagers from Canada who posted videos of themselves building box forts who got waaay more than that.

You could basically count the fans of both companies on one hand and still have fingers left over. That's really sad, isn't it? I mean, when more people watch C-SPAN than watch your little fake fighting show, maybe it's time to grow up and get a real job?

Anyway, where was he?

Oh, right. Racing.

No, snowflakes.

See, to Johnny, a snowflake was someone who enjoyed the snow. Maybe it had other meanings to the neckbeard Trump bois and purple headed SJWs, he didn't know and he didn't care. They were on the same level as wrestling fans to him. "AEW is better, racist," "No, WWE is, cupcake." Nah, all y'all suck, now shut the frick up. Back to his point, though. Johnny loved the white stuff. He couldn't get enough of it. Call him Scarface 'cuz in the winter time, he had mounds of it piled on his desk, and he'd flop his head into it and eat until his belly was full and sloshy. There was a sick hill outside of town that was perfect for sledding, and when Miller's Pond froze, he was right there to ice skate like his name was Nancy Kerrigan. She was a figure skater back in the day. Another figure skater who wasn't as good as her got butthurt and had someone beat her up so she couldn't compete. It boiled Johnny's blood that everyone talked about the other skater (whom he refused to name, even in his own thoughts) but not his girl Nancy. She was the victim and everyone was always talking about the piece of trash who had her leg broken. Pretty sad and sick if you asked him, but Americans love to talk about, think about, and glorify bad guys.

Why do you think they liked Tyler Perry movies so much? That man is pure evil. Johnny heard that they show inmates at Guantanamo Bay his movies and that the UN ruled it a crime against humanity.

Johnny's love for snow and snow related activities was so great that he was probably the only person in Royal Woods who was happy when a snowstorm rolled in on the afternoon of March 28. The previous winter had been brutal in Michigan and everyone Johnny knew had been sick of snow for at least the past month. First, a freak blizzard blew in the day before Hallowee, dumping over a foot of snow. Trick or treating was obviously cancelled and no one could get anywhere on the impassable roads, so it wasn't like you could go to a haunted house or to the cemetery to make up for it. Lucy, with whom Johnny and his family had lived for what felt like a year, was totally devastated and spent the next three days in the darkness of the fireplace, her knees hugged to her chest. Nothing could induce her to come out, and at night, you could hear her sobbing for her lost Halloween.

And by that, he meant you could hear her say, "Sob...sob…" all night long. Even covering your head with a pillow wouldn't drown it out. It drove Johnny bonkers.

Next, it snowed six inches four times in the two weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, fresh snow covering the crusty old stuff that hadn't had a chance to melt yet. The beginning of December was quiet, but between the 10th and the 28th, three back to back storms dropped another two feet. In January, yet another blizzard blew through. By this point, even Lincoln, who was almost as big a snowflake as Johnny, was tired of it. "Snow sucks and anyone who likes it is instantly lame," he said at dinner one night.

Johnny started to argue but literally everyone nodded and voiced their agreement, so he kept quiet. He knew from disagreeing with people online that having a different opinion from the majority was a good way to get canceled. If he went against the grain, they'd call him a commie or a Nazi or something.

Most of January and February was quiet: The sun was dim, the trees were barren, and frigid winds swept across the frozen snow. Ice coated everything and sunsets were lonely, stark, and beautiful. In March, another storm hit the area, and then, finally, in the closing days of the month, yet another. "This is awful," Lincoln moaned from his bunk one night. "Why won't it stop?"

"Because climate change, Linc," Johnny said facetiously. "Stop polluting and it'll warm up."

"I don't pollute," Lincoln said.

"Yeah, you do. All that slime you put in your hair emits a good 50 pounds of carbon a day."

The bed creaked as Lincoln sat up. "You don't even know what you're talking about. And if anyone pollutes around here, it's you and your paper bag hats. Those aren't good for the environment but do you care? Nope, you wear two or three a day anyway. You're worse than China."

"Paper is biodegradable," Johnny pointed out. "Your farts after eating Mr. Loud's beans and franks aren't. That's what's killing the ozone layer."

"I don't need this right now," Lincoln said and laid back down. "I don't care about pollution, I don't care about your hats, I don't care about any of it, I just want it to stop snowing. Is that so much to ask?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen. Snow is awesome. Plus, there's not even much out there."

"It's over my head!"

Pfft. "Stop being so small then."

"I'm a fraction of an inch taller than you."

Okay, that was not true. "No, I'm a fraction of an inch taller than you, shrimp."

"Vienna Sausage."

"Midget," Johnny shot back.

"Dwarf."

"I'm Andre the Giant compared to you," Johnny said. "You're Hornswoggle."

Those, apparently, were fighting words, because Lincoln jumped off the bed and landed on his feet, knees bending. Johnny carefully removed his paper bag and his goggles. He shrugged out of his jacket (it was cold in here, Mr. Loud kept the thermostat at 60) and got up. He and Lincoln bumped chests. Though neither one of them noticed or would care if they had, they were exactly the same height. "Say that to my face, Mini Me," Lincoln said.

Johnny went him one better: He grabbed Lincoln and tried to wrestle him to the ground. Lincoln wrapped his arms around Johnny in a big bear hug and gave a spine breaking squeeze that made Johnny cry out.

They were so caught up in each other that they didn't hear the squeal of the hinges as the door opened to a crack, didn't see the black leather gloved hand snake in and toss something at them. It hit the carpet and rolled, and the hand disappeared. In an instant, thick, choking smoke filled the room. The smell of gnarly butt, unwashed feet, and stankin' pits assaulted Johnny's senses. His eyebrows singed off, tears burst from his eyes, and the inside of his nose stung. He and Lincoln shoved each other away, coughing and retching, and Johnny stumbled back.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

Panic gripped him and his lungs clutched, the smoke burning them. He had to get out of here. Clawing at his throat, he staggered in the general direction of the door and bumped into the wall; he bounced, tripped over his own feet, and fell to his butt in a heap. He got back up and searched for the door, finding it just as Lincoln ran up. He twisted the handle and they both burst from the room, falling to their knees. Smoke poured out of the open door behind them and they both sucked fresh air.

"That was awful," Lincoln coughed.

Johnny blinked the tears from his eyes.

Then he got mad.

Leaping to his feet, he held one clutched fist up to eye level, as if to beat his attacker to a bloody pulp. "Who did that?" he demanded.

It was only then that he saw it.

Lucy was on the ground, wrapped in a blanket like a goth burrito, only her head and feet sticking out. She rolled back and forth going "Ahhh" and saying "Help me." Lori hung upside down from a rope, still texting on her phone and looking totally unconcerned. Lana and Lola were wrapped together with duct tape, Lola facing one way and Lana the other. Lynn was curled up on the floors, eyes wide and brimming with tears. Her thumb was thrust into her mouth and her favorite Nerf football sat next to her, a big bite taken out of the foam. "She bit my ball," Lynn mumbled to herself, sounding traumatized, "she bit my ball."

"What's going on here?" Lincoln asked as he struggled to his feet.

As if in reply, a mad cackle sounded, seemingly all around them. Lincoln and Johnny hugged each other and a dark figure emerged from the bathroom at the other end of the hall. At first, it was backlit against the light streaming around it, black and void like a demon. Then it stepped forward and Lincoln and Johnny cried out in terror. It wore a black leather trench coat and a wide brim black hat. It looked like the killer from one of those pretentious giallo movies that Lucy watched. They were basically Italian slashers full of gore, nudity, and Euro lounge music soundtracks that lowkey slapped. Johnny began to openly weep because he thought he was about to be carved up with a straight razor and Lincoln's knees went went; he fell, but Johnny held him up. If they were going to die, they would die as they had lived: Stuck up each other's butts. The killer took another step forward, amnd Johnny saw that it wasn't a killer at all.

It was even worse.

Luan.

The bracefaced Loud let out an evil laugh, hands going smugly to her hips. "You know what today is, don't you?"

"Tuesday?" Lincoln asked.

"March 28th," Luan said.

Uh, okay. Was that supposed to -?

Understanding kicked Johnny in the nards and his mouth fell open. Lincoln realized what Luan meant at the exact same moment he did. "April Fool's Day is coming up," he said.

"This is just a taste of things to come," Luan promised. "This year, I'm going allll out. Sha kazing!" She clapped her hands and red smoke enveloped her. When it cleared, she was gone.

Spooky.

"When you guys have a minute, can you cut me down?" Lori asked nonchalantly. "Don't rush or anything. Whenever is good for me."

Johnny went over and got her down while Lincoln helped free Lucy from the blanket, then unstuck Lola from Lana. Johnny walked over to Lynn and stood over her: She hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the ether with watery eyes. "We'll get you a new ball, okay?"

She looked up at him with something like hope. "New ball?" she asked.

"New ball," Johnny confirmed with a nod.

Sniffling, Lynn got to her feet and stared mournfully down at her ball. Johnny considered picking it up and carrying it away so that she wouldn't be forced to look at it any longer, but Luan's spit was on it and that was gross. "Lucy?"

With a cartoonish booking, Lucy was suddenly right next to him. "Yes, Johnny?"

"Give this ball a proper burial."

"With pleasure," she said. Then: "Should I embalm it?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. What is it with white people and always being extra? "Sure," he said.

"Wicked."

While Lucy took Lynn's ball away, Leni helped Lynn to her room and Lincoln walked over with his hands on his hips. "It's gonna be a slaughter," he said, "remember last year?"

Boy, did Johnny ever. He and Linc almost turned the tables on Luan but at the last minute she punked the both of them.

"That's not going to happen again," he vowed to himself.

Lincoln furrowed his brow. "Why? You got a plan?"

"No," Johnny admitted, "but we can come up with one."

Though Johnny picked on his baby bro, Lincoln was smart. Between them, they could come up with an epic battle plan that would put Luan Loud in her place once and for all. They didn't have much time to come up with one, though. D-Day was coming up fast, and if they didn't have a good idea of what to do, they would once again fall victim to the prank master herself.

Lincoln looked around to make sure they weren't being watched, then leaned in close and lowered his voice to a sneaky whisper. "You got any ideas?"

"I might," Johnny whispered back. "Come on."

They went back into their room and closed the door. It opened a second later, and Johnny's head popped out for a final look around. He didn't see anything but he had that creepy, skin-crawling feeling of being watched. He shut the door, locked it, and switched the light off. He went over to the nightstand and turned his stereo on. Loud rock music blasted from the speakers, startling him. He forgot that he was bumping Lincoln's Merkins CD. They made parody songs about horror movie characters. This one was a parody of Motley Crue's Girls, Girls, Girls called Kills, Kills, Kills. In the video, Jason, Freddy, Michael Myers, and the dude from Scream were dressed like 80s metalheads. It was funny. Johnny sat on the bed next to Lincoln and said -

Friday night at the lake tonight

Leave no survivors, I will end your life

Handful of steel, it's my time to strike

And when you bleed you're filled with fright

"What?" Lincoln asked, shouting to be heard over the music.

"I said -"

We love kills, kills, kills

Torn face with blood dripping lips

Kills, kills, kills

Dance with death on your camping trip

"I can't hear you!" Lincoln yelled.

Oh, jimminy crow. Johnny got up, went over to the stereo, and turned it down. He sat next to Lincoln again and leaned in until his lips were hovering a scant inch from Lincoln's ear. "I said - "

He told Lincoln his idea, and Lincoln nodded to himself. "I like that, but who's gonna be the bait?"

"I will," Johnny said and closed his hand into a fist. "I wanna see the look on her face."

It was settled then. He and Lincoln told each one of the Loud girls what they had in mind, meeting with them one by one since a large conference might tip Luan off. "We only have a few days," Johnny said, "so we gotta hurry. We'll start setting up tomorrow."

"Got it," Lori said.

The next day, Lincoln, Johnny, Lori, and Lynn began preparing for the coming Prankocalypse. "She's gonna pay for what she did to my ball," Lynn said as she worked.

Yes, yes she was.

And after this, she would probably never prank again.

Bring. It. On.

April 1st dawned clear and cold, the weak light reflection on the mounds of snow covering the world. At 6am sharp, Luan Loud licked her bedroom door open and went into the hall carrying a Super Soaker filled with water and red food coloring. She had spent most of last night setting traps around the house, and was planning to chase her siblings - and Lincoln and Johnny - into them. Instead of a line at the bathroom door, she found nothing.

Hm.

She checked the john and it was empty, as were Lola's room, Lynn's room, and Lincoln and Johnny's room. The silence was deafening and Luan had the feeling that no one was here.

So they ran.

Cowards.

A weak voice rose from the living room. "Guys...come back. Please."

Johnny.

Luan narrowed her eyes and crept down the stairs. Johnny was curled up on the living room floor, holding his knee. When he saw Luan, his eyes widened with fright. "GUYS! SHE'S COMING!"

The back door slammed and Luan raced to it. In her haste, she had forgotten the trap she set in the kitchen. She tripped a wire strung across the doorway at foot level and a giant sack of flour dumped its contents on her. She choked, coughed, and wheeled around, hitting another trap. The oven door sprang open and a canon shot out, firing a mixture of paste, oatmeal, and cornstarch directly at her. It splattered her and she slipped, falling to the floor.

Darn it.

'

She wiped her eyes and looked up to see Johnny in the doorway. He pointed and laughed. "Haha, you pranked yourself!"

Anger flashed in Luan and she raised the gun. He ducked away and she growled.

We'll see who pranks who.

She got up and gave chase. Johnny darted up the stairs and she followed. "You're wasting your time, Johnny," she called out. "You might as well just lay down and take it."

"Never!"

"Okay then," she said, "it's your funeral."

At the top of the stairs she stopped and swept the gun back and forth, looking for him. He ran from cover and she fired; a stream of purple water arched through the air and hit him in the face. "I'm hit!" he screamed and disappeared into Lynn's room. A moment later, he threw something out and it landed by Luan's feet.

A string of firecrackers.

They went off with a series of loud pops and Luan jumped a foot. She ducked behind an end table and waited for the explosions to stop. Smoke filled the air and the silence was so total that her ears rang. "Not bad, Johnny," she said, "but it's not good enough."

"We'll see about that, Luan," Johnny's voice returned.

Luan chuckled. Alright, then. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a smoke bomb. She lit it and tossed it over hand. It landed in front of the door and a cloud of smoke rose up, filling the hall. Luan got up and rushed into the mist at a crouch. She threw her back against the wall, waited a second, and rushed in.

A figure emerged from the smoke, eyes round and bug-like. Luan gasped, and realized too late that it was just Johnny in a gas mask. He lifted a gun and pulled the trigger. A blast of slime hit Luan in the stomach and knocked her off her feet. The Super Soak flew her her hands and she landed in the hall. She rolled to get it, but Johnny stepped on it. She swung her legs around and swept him off his feet. He fell, and they grappled for the gun, Luan on top and Johnny on the bottom. They rolled back and forth, and when Luan couldn't get the gun away, she jumped up and dashed away like a deer fleeing danger. In the living room, she leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Her heart knocked against her ribs and her lungs sucked for air.

She hadn't had this much fun in years.

"Ready to give up?" Johnny called down the stairs.

"In your dreams," she replied.

"I have the high ground," Johnny said.

"Do something with it."

There was a long pause. "I can't," Johnny said, "if I come down there, you'll light me up."

"Darn tootin' I will."

For a long time, nothing happened, then Johnny ran down the stairs. Luan stepped out of concealment but instead of coming for her, he ran out the front door. "See ya!" he called.

"Oh, no you don't!"

She grabbed her coat, stepped into her snow boots, and went after him. She tracked his prints through the slush edging the street all the way to the park. She followed them to a barren wood and up a narrow trail that someone had cleared. She crouched low and listened to the preternatural silence, her senses on high alert. She stepped on something that clicked, and she jumped back just as a net shot out. If she had stayed where she was, it would have snared her. She laughed in a puff of steam. "Is that all you got, Johnny?" she called. Her voice echoed through the desolate forest, scaring birds into flight.

"I got plenty more!" Johnny called from the distance.

And he wasn't lying. In the fifteen minutes Luan was walking the path, she sprang at least a dozen traps. At one point, a contraption swung out holding a pie, and she ducked. She stood up and it hit her on the backswing, smearing coconut cream all in her hair. "Ew, gross," she said.

Johnny cackled madly, his voice seeming to come from every direction.

She couldn't lie, she was impressed by his traps. She stopped to examine a few of them and marveled at their craftsmanship. "Wow," she said to herself, "he's good."

At one point, a water cannon soaked the trail ahead of her, freezing it solid and forcing her into the woods, where she sprang trap after trap, covering her in ketchup, mustard, mayo, and Nickelodeon tier green slime. Finally, she reached the top of a hill. Johnny was standing by the edge. "I got you now," she said.

"No," someone said from behind her, "we got you."

Luan turned to find her sisters standing in a big group. Lynn stepped forward and cocked her arm.

She was holding a Nerf football.

"This is for my ball," she said and threw it.

It drilled Luan in the chest and she flew back, going over the edge of the hill. She rolled, gathering snow, and hit the bottom as a giant snowball which exploded in a million pieces on impact. She sat up, dazed, and rubbed her head. Johnny skied down the hill and stuck out his hand. "You okay?" he asked.

He favored her with a warm and genuine look, and Luan's heart did a funny pitter patter rhythm that made her feel weird and shaky. She took his hand and stood, the feeling getting stronger when his hand touched hers. "Okay," she said, "that was good."

He blushed deeply and Luan giggled for no reason at all. "I might not be the prank master after all."

"I had a lot of help," Johnny admitted.

And he's humble.

Swoon.

"You sure showed me," she said, "in fact, you got me so good that I won't prank anyone else for the rest of the day."

Johnny cracked a beatific grin.

She watched him as he trudged back up the hill, her eyes going to his butt.

You know, she had never realized this before, but he was really sweet…

...and very, very cute.