View source for 2002-00-00 Origins (part 1)

{{Logsummary-fake|
Title=Origins (part 1)
|Summary=
|Who=[[Johnny_C]]
|Date=2002?
|Where=????
|Log=

Johnny sat and stared at the rain falling down upon the broken window and sighed. Over and over again the maniac had to deal with the depressing reptition of life. Watching things come and go. Watching life waste itself again and again. Feeling the tears begin to flow as his depression again reached it's peak he stomped through his house towards the two figures he'd angrily nailed to the wall with a pair of kitchen knives.

The two where once a grotesque pair of display stand doughboys that in a moment of creativity he'd painted up as a mockery of what they stood for. As with all his creations he'd named them. The one with the word FUCK scrawled accross it's chest was "Psycho D-Boy" the other, emblazed with the strange Z? design was "Mr Fuck" or "Mr Eff" for short. Only a short while ago his distraught mind had given them life. They'd walked, and talked, all on their own... or so it seemed.

Nothing was what it seemed to him anymore. His mind had been taken away from him. An entity of sorts had worked it's way into him, stealing the inner voices he assigned to things to keep himself sane and perverting him to follow it's instructions. Slowly but surely the boy was pushed over the edge, unknowingly absorbing the emmotional waste of the world. Finaly he had snapped. Being dubbed, Johnny the Homacidal Maniac, the boy had gone on a blood thirsty rampage fulled by the hatred being stored in his heart. His inner voices where manipulating him into bringing the blood back home with him where he would slowly paint a wall of his house with the crimsim substance.

Only a voice dubbed "Nailbunny" stood up in his defense. It seemed the more powerful of the voices, the Doughboys, where also stealing his inspiration and memorise as they used him to make themselves stronger. Before Nailbunny could make the boy realise the truth, the Doughboys silenced him. An act that finaly made Johnny understand that he was no longer in control. By that point it was too late. An elaborate trap to kill himself finaly succeded... or so he remembered.

He'd died, gone to heaven and hell, and come back to find nothing had changed. Well, his voices had been silenced, his house was wrecked, and his hair had fallen out... but that could have been self inflicted in a fit of histeria...

None the less he had seeked help. Checking himself in at a local institution for a sleep study he waited until his health returned to him and his hair grew back. Much to the dismay of the doctors there he finaly had enough and left. Determined to make the best of his second lease on life. It didn't last long though. Before he could even get to his car in the lot outside he was jumped by a group of less-than-intelligent thugs determined that the "sissy boy" needed to get beat down for "lookin' all smug". Johnny made quick work of the trio, leaving their remains in the middle of the parking lot with their heads forced up their own asses. It was driving to get a brain-freezy that he made his decision. It was time to leave...

As he stared at the Doughboys hanging from the wall, his thoughts replayed all this. One thing was for certain, it was time to move on. Time to escape this horrid city with it's tunnels full of dead bodies beneath his house and walls no longer painted with drying blood. Glaring at the figures he grabbed his backpack off the desk beside them, checked his daggers at his sides and headed out into the night...

...

A few hours later he was sitting on a plane with no idea where he was going. He'd simply gone to the airport and picked a random terminal. There he'd gone right through the gate and sat down. As his luck always permited no one even noticed. No one asked to see a ticket. No one told him he couldn't play with the dagger he twirled absently at his side. No one said a word... but in his mind he could feel it. He'd never noticed it before but from everyone there was this thick filth being cast off. The air felt saturated with it. As the plane lifted off it lessoned, but only slightly.

His spirits, lifted with the thinning of the filth, where unusaly calm. He found himself enjoying the feel of the craft as it sored through the air. He could even ignore the screaming child two seats back and the drunken flight attendent that kept spilling drinks. Even the couple arguing off to the side of him could be ignored. He just sat back and listened to the CD he'd brought with him as Betoven's 5th began to play.

Without any warning there was a sudden flash of light. The craft lurched forwards abruptly. The passangers began to panic and sweat off that disgusting warm emotion of theirs that Johnny could already feel saturating him. Then, unexpectantly, his CD was playing the theme to the A-Team.

"What the FUCK??" Looking down alarmed at the sudden change he was even more surprised to find his CD was somehow changed out with Tee-Vee Toons Volume 3 and the CD player was now red instead of silver. Glancing around suspiciously for the culpret he was shocked to find most of the annoyances gone. The baby, the arguing couple, even the flight attendent had vanished.

Everyone just looked so... calm. The waste in the air was thining, but still there, as always. So, at least it wasn't as big of a deal as it seemed, but still... he could have sworn he hated show tunes. Sitting back and trying to shake the strange feeling that had come over him he flicked through a few tracks, finaly deciding upon the theme to Sanford & Son for it's lack of vocals, before taking his headphones off and throwing the damned thing in the seat beside him.

It was then the pilot announced they where about to land...

[[Category:Neo_Tokyo]]
[[Category:Non_Twisted_Logs]]
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