CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
"There's something I need to tell you, Lisa," said Johnny, plucking up his courage as best he could. They were in her bedroom again.
"Hey, how come we never go out?" asked Lisa.
"Huh?"
"We always stay in and watch DVDs or have sex...not that I don't enjoy that."
"Going out...it's overrated."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Anyway..."
"You were going to say something?"
"Was I? Oh yes...something to tell you..." All his pluck was suddenly gone. He started playing with his fingers.
"Is it how much you love me?"
"No."
"Oh."
"But I do! A lot. More than Jesus!"
"You're not religious and neither am I."
"Yeah. I say crazy things sometimes. Haven't you noticed?"
"I like it."
"You do?"
"You're not like anyone else."
"That's becaue I'm crazy Johnny Nose," he said. The truth. He'd tell the truth...
"You're not crazy, just different."
"No, I'm clinically crazy," he said. There, it was out.
"I was...I was diagnose as bipolar when I was a teenager," said Lisa, suddenly. What?! Lisa was crazy too? Maybe she was going to murder him! Johnny looked for the nearest exit.
"Uhh, that's not so uncommon," said Johnny. Bipolar was one of the many conditions he'd be diagnosed with. They'd went through a long list over years trying to figure out what he was.
"So now you know," she said.
"Did you think it would make a difference?" he asked, walking over to her and taking her in his arms. He felt very adult. Very real.
"It would for some people," she said.
"But not for me," he said.
"So...you're crazy too?" she asked, laughing.
"Umm, there's this wheelchair. With a girl growing out of it. It's going to tell you I'm crazy."
"What?"
Panic. Oh no. A wheelchair with a girl growing out of it? Why did he say that! "I...had some troubles when I was a teenager too," he said.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "What matters is the man you are today."
"Yeah," he said, and thought, the man I've constructed today. Well, that was that. He was exhasuted. He couldn't tell her today. So what could he do about Wheelchair Claire? Kill her? Beat her to death with a giant plastic nose?
Maybe he'd have to sleep with her.
"Hey, how come we never go out?" asked Lisa.
"Huh?"
"We always stay in and watch DVDs or have sex...not that I don't enjoy that."
"Going out...it's overrated."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Anyway..."
"You were going to say something?"
"Was I? Oh yes...something to tell you..." All his pluck was suddenly gone. He started playing with his fingers.
"Is it how much you love me?"
"No."
"Oh."
"But I do! A lot. More than Jesus!"
"You're not religious and neither am I."
"Yeah. I say crazy things sometimes. Haven't you noticed?"
"I like it."
"You do?"
"You're not like anyone else."
"That's becaue I'm crazy Johnny Nose," he said. The truth. He'd tell the truth...
"You're not crazy, just different."
"No, I'm clinically crazy," he said. There, it was out.
"I was...I was diagnose as bipolar when I was a teenager," said Lisa, suddenly. What?! Lisa was crazy too? Maybe she was going to murder him! Johnny looked for the nearest exit.
"Uhh, that's not so uncommon," said Johnny. Bipolar was one of the many conditions he'd be diagnosed with. They'd went through a long list over years trying to figure out what he was.
"So now you know," she said.
"Did you think it would make a difference?" he asked, walking over to her and taking her in his arms. He felt very adult. Very real.
"It would for some people," she said.
"But not for me," he said.
"So...you're crazy too?" she asked, laughing.
"Umm, there's this wheelchair. With a girl growing out of it. It's going to tell you I'm crazy."
"What?"
Panic. Oh no. A wheelchair with a girl growing out of it? Why did he say that! "I...had some troubles when I was a teenager too," he said.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "What matters is the man you are today."
"Yeah," he said, and thought, the man I've constructed today. Well, that was that. He was exhasuted. He couldn't tell her today. So what could he do about Wheelchair Claire? Kill her? Beat her to death with a giant plastic nose?
Maybe he'd have to sleep with her.
