Strange Days

Johnny C. lay sprawled out on the hard wooden floor, currently. He had just come home after taking care of some business he was forced to tend to, and felt quite exhausted. He tried to remember the last time he’d ever actually gotten a good night’s sleep, or even a nap to be considerate. Days? Weeks? Months?

All of it didn’t matter now, as he lay, staring at his ceiling. His last `victim’ was another male, which he looked to be about twenty. Some age around there. Johnny had been minding his own business, concentrating on the fact that he would soon be receiving a nice, cold slurpee from the local 24/7. Johnny had decided not to walk, seeing as the night was relatively warm considering the intimidating January month. Nny had walked around the corner, and accidentally ran into the man, which seemed to be about four inches taller than Nny himself. He looked up at the man and quietly apologized, not in the mood to be pissed off. Well, it seemed that the asshole bag-of-bones wouldn’t take “sorry”. The man pushed Johnny violently into a wall, and called him that familiar word “fag,” which enraged Johnny. Pulling out his beloved twin hooked knives (A/N: think Issue #5 back cover) Johnny saw this man immediately raise his eyebrows in silent regret for what he just did. He didn’t turn
to run, as Johnny assumed his brain wasn’t large enough to process the fact that he should run. Grinning, Johnny had raised his left knife at the man, anger ready to release with eat wound he was about to make. But something caught his eye. Actually, many things caught his eye.

Strange days have found us.

Strange days have tracked us down.

They’re going to destroy

Our casual joys.

Shall we go on playing or find another town?

Johnny looked around at the relatively busy city street. Everyone was watching him. Simply everyone. A few had their eyebrows raised as well, mouths gaping open in silent horror; one pigtail-wearing bimbo was running around in circles screaming “OHMYGODOHMYGODLIKEOHMYGOD!” hundreds of times, others running. Some people just stood there, one woman had her eyes wearing a smug look, her smile cocked lightly in a “I dare you” fashion. This was strange for Johnny to even notice, but even more strange to have somebody actually SMILING at his actions.He gaped at the woman, who was still smiling. What the hell was she smiling about?! He was ready to kill this little punk bastard that wasn’t cooperating with him; there was nothing interesting about that. Johnny still had one of his knives poised, ready to strike right into this man’s forehead, but his goal was at a standstill. The woman had a cocky look on her face, and he tried to remember if he ever saw her before. His mind was
clogged, and he could still hear something screaming “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD,” and he couldn’t concentrate on his goal. Just was so fucking interesting, anyway?

Strange eyes fill strange rooms.

Voices will signal their tired end.

The hostess is grinning.

Her guests, sleep from sinning.

Hear me talk of sin, and you know, this is it.

Nny roared, shaking his head, spraying his thoughts everywhere like a wet mongrel shaking itself after a bath. He turned his head to face the punkass bastard, and as he was doing so, he let his left knife go down onto this man’s forehead, while bringing his right knife around from the side, hitting him in the gut with expert’s experience. He turned his head fully to view his expression and saw.. no man. No punk. Where did the man go? Nny looked around frantically, a frantic look playing about his face, hitting a lurid key on that ethereal piano. He realized that he had been caught up looking at that stupid woman and didn’t notice the man fleeing for his life. He underestimated the man. Nny snapped his head around, looking simply everywhere for this punk to finish him off. Johnny C. swore to himself. He cursed himself, and everyone around him. He quickly placed his knives back into his coat pocket, and dashed back where he came from, quick as a jackrabbit. Reaching home, he
slammed the door close and leaned against the door, panting. Sliding down the door, he was instantly furious with himself. His eyes narrowed as he stared out in front of him, looking at no outer piece of furniture or wall. He looked inside of himself, racked his brain for the reason why he was so startled anyway.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and went down into one of his many torture rooms under the main floor.

Strange days have found us

And through their strange hours

We linger, alone,

Bodies confused, memories misused,

As we run from the day

To a strange night of stone.

And so there he was. Nny laid on the floor, having collected his thoughts, which seemed to have spilled out everywhere. Sighing, his looked at the ceiling. That was the first time he had EVER let somebody get away, and not to mention let his surroundings make him lose sight of his goal. Again, Johnny C. cursed at himself. He realized uttering words that were looked down upon in society would do nothing to change what had happened. It was just so utterly strange. He had never let somebody go. (Not saying he willingly let that bastard go, mind you.) Sighing in aggravation, Nny curled up into a ball. He thought about random things, ignoring the incessant calls of Reverend Meat. Soon, he let himself fall into a light sleep. His first sleep in aeons, it was.

Whoo! That sucked totally, and I know it! Yay for me! Um, so .. yes. Please don’t kill me, I made this up on a total whim. I go now.

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