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By: Moth Man That’s exactly what Jack said. Infront of him was a huge burst of light. A face was in the glare of the bright light. Stutter tounged he shouted “Get the fuck back here!” Because he couldn’t remember Dee’s and Edges names. They ran in and where astounded. Jack did so and stuttered, “What the FUCK is that!” The crow didn’t lie: it really was fucked up as a mutha fuckin mutha fucka. Everyone stared at it for a moment and it engulfed in its self and disappeared. A piece of papyrus like material floated down onto the floor. It said, "Thank you Jack. Now I really do know why you are what you are. I apologize for my previous nature. It was my existense. Now I’ve become something higher than supernatural. Even the most evil of creatures can be forgiven if they have true flaw. Mine was befriending you. And over the past five years that we have talked about everything. But, you never asked of my name. It is Scriven. I was a vampire that believed in god. But yet again even though my flaw was for God…I was still damned. Now that I have passed on, you have now idea what joys that your beliefs will give you. And now, let our friendship be eternal. See you at the crossroads, Scriven” “Jack? Are you all right?” Dee whispered softly. “Yes, go now and make your home. Be prepared…this is what we maybe facing in the coming time.” “Yes Jack.” The words of choice the couple used to excuse themselves. Friendship? How in the fuck did he become friends. Was it the blood? Was it the sin with forgivness? Fuck it . On to more shit. All Jack thought about was at least he’s got another ninja on the inside of the dead side. Jack took a homemade dagger and pinned a note to the boiler room door. It said, ”Homies: I’m out fo a while imma talk with the Joneses about you guys incase you are in need of some grub. That crow on the floor is high off of poppy seed muffins so don’t let him near any more of the shit until I return.“ With that Jack left. He felt sick for a long time because of all that food he ate. It was the kind of effect the Jews at extermination camps at the end of WW 2. Too much food for starving human stomach isn’t really good or healthy. So Jack went to a near by dumpster and puked. “Ugh, fuck.” The light that ‘Scriven’ emitted wasn’t very helpful either. “Gimme all your goods sucka!” A voice cried out from behind as a barrel of a glock poked Jacks back. “Do you know who I am, bitch?” Jack said grimly. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Ever since Jack came along I’ve been out of luck and everyone tries to pose as him. Ha! But you aren’t a Jack poser are ya huh?” The man snarled as the gunned was jabbed deeper into Jacks side. With out looking backwards, Jack raised his hand and waved behind him. “You aren’t very smart are you?” Jack began to turn around and the gun went off. Jack kept turning around and looked right at the man. The bullet went through Jack, hit the brick wall, riquoched back and knocked the gun out of the mans hand. Jack lifted up his shirt to look at the wound. Instantly it healed. Jack through a punch that twisted the mans head around as if Jack snapped it. Apperently he isn’t in the mood for a good cleansing right now. Jack went up town. Caught a few taxis and left a tip at each one. ( The Carnival of Carnage gave him unlimited currency.) And headed to the Chick N Strip. One of the finest strip clubs. There, he sat in a dark corner behind one of the tables…got pissed at how clean it was and went to the Dungeon. The sickest, filthiest, most demoralizing strip club that can still attract an audience. Here Jack felt more comfortable…beyond the horrors to tame. Here that black aura was no where to be found. The Hispanics, Native Americans, Blacks, Asians, Russians, and every variety of a person from earth was here in harmony…getting horny. And the strange thing about the Dungeon is that men, women, shemales, transvestites, transsexuals, twinks, lesbians, bi, straight, it didn’t matter. Everyone gathered here. As Jack settled into a similar table as the one over at the Chick N Strip, he felt comfy. Then he moved because since of the wide variety of customers, the joint is sectioned off to them specifically. In other words he was sitting in the “men’s” section. He re-seated himself in the women’s section. He sat there in another dark corner that the stage lights didn’t touch. He thought of his next move… again. Sickness: the friend!
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