A/N: I'm busy. So screw me. Hahaha, pretend Sakano is in this chapter. I'm too lazy to give descriptions.
Disclaimer: Jhonen Vasquez owns the plot. Maki Murakami owns the characters. Me? I know I own something… Yes! I own Happy Noodle Boy!! Wait… Johnny made him? Wait… so that makes it that Jhonen owns him too… Damn! I still have Wobbly Headed Boy right? Wait… Jhonen owns him too??? FRUSTRATED!!
Ask a Different Question
"Hello, Madam! I'm conducting a survey for the neighborhood crime council. As you may know our city have recently been subject to a massive increase in hideously brutal mutilations"
In a city that has no name, in a street with dying houses carrying broken souls that are labeled by most of society as the unemployed; there a man wearing a pinstripe suit walked down the concrete. His black hair was brushed back, his glasses sitting smartly on his nose.
He carried along with him a clipboard and a fountain pen.
"… Now, I'd just like to ask you a few questions if you have the time"
The woman he talked to was morbidly obese, from where he stood- which was very close to her- he could see two empty slots that used to have teeth. Layers of flab protruded stretching the shirt she's wearing ('Damn, I'm NASTY!') to impossible degrees. Her hair- or what's left of it- was all bundled up in pink hair curlers.
"Well, I really hate to miss Oprah Windy but this whole mutilation thing is pretty upsetting, so ask away" her voice sounded restricted, almost as if she was just chocking our every word out of her throat.
'Next, men who love eating human waste and the women who love to kiss them!'
"Okeedokee! So… what do you think of murder?" clicking his writing tool's end, the tip ready to write down any important notes of some kind.
"Well…" the lady scratched her chin scratching for some sort of thought to help her in answering, "Just last week, I found my dead husband's headless body nailed to the wall, with his open chest cavity stuffed with human skulls…"
"Hm… mmm… right…"
"So, I'd have to say that it's… um…. Bad…?"
Fast forward to the next ten minutes and the interviewer man was strolling past the houses, whistling a happy tune. He picked his next house and while going over to the front door, he could see the sign standing on the dying ground, 'Keep off the loose soil'.
When he pushed the door bell, he could swear he heard the faint sound of electricity followed by the scream of sheer terror. Almost as if someone inside was being electrocuted.
He pushed the button again.
Footsteps after the second sound of the doorbell, and the door opened to small crack. And from that small gap poked out a yellow head that looked up to the survey man with loathe filled similarly golden eyes.
"Yes…?" those angry- or mad- eyes took a survey itself at him, as if making sure he wasn't going to go ballistic if he opens up the door to this complete stranger.
"Hello, there… say, I couldn't help but notice your house number is 777. That's funny, isn't that, like, the number for heaven or something?"
"Does this look like heaven to you?" the blond boy slowly opened the door to his home, a picture of life never knowing love and so called heaven was present there.
The smile the man had on his face took a small pinch at it, "Oh no, I guess not… Hey, I think there's something wrong with your doorbell… See…"
Somewhere, deep within the secret bowels of the house…
"Oh the pain…when will it end???????" the tortured victim screamed as bolts electricity fried his brain and rear end.
Not bothering to divulge the reason for the doorbell's unconventional ways, the blond boy asked the man, "Did you want something?"
"Oh yes! I'm from the neighbor crime council; it's a survey on the recent wave of violent crimes. So, I'd just like to…"
"GET IN HERE!!!" the deranged teenager pulled the man inside his dark house, due to shock the man forgot to keep his wrist and found himself landing painfully on the floor. As he looked up, the blond boy shut the door with a big slam.
"What…?" he tried to fix his glasses.
"Two nights ago, I was taking a walk and this little Chihuahua started following me! GOD DAMN IT! IT KNEW!! I ran and finally lost it and made it home!" he looked angrily at the suit wearing survey guy, berating him with a story that the older doesn't know a hell or care about "BUT IT KNEW! IT KNEEEEEEW!!!!!!!!!"
The blond boy, going on as if he just downed a whole liter of crack grabbed the adult by the collar and looked at him searching for answers on the other sides of those glasses.
"DID THE DOG SEND YOU?????????????"
"No!! I'm just doing a survey!" and as if to help his defense, he added, "Honest!!"
"Oh…" calming down while realizing his mistake, "Okay…"
"So, what do you want to know??"
"Um… you know, this really isn't that important! I should leave!! Yes! Right now! Sorry to have disturbed… I mean bothered you!!!"
"Not at all!" the boy with messy blond locks assured, "I guess I needed a break, I was just drawing a comic, Happy Noodle Boy" indeed, on one corner there was a table on top was a spread of papers with the pictures of little stick figures "It's really popular with the homeless insane. Now, ask me questions! Lots of questions! Sit!"
With the last declaration being said, the boy pulled a box out of nowhere with the words 'Human Soul Containment Unit' plastered on the side. When the pinstriped suit man sat on the box, he couldn't but wonder what really was inside the box.
(A/N: 'Human soul containment unit'… that's Jhonen's box!)
"Um… all right… Er, okay, so what are your views on this current surge of violent crimes? And what can be done to protect the people?"
The boy looked at him funny; the blond settled into another crate and gathered his thoughts.
"Hm… the violent crimes?" he placed a thoughtful hand on his chin, looking up at the ceiling, "All perfectly natural in a society whose advances are limited to its technology. The basic behavior of modern man is hardly different from that of its primitive ancestors; the only noticeable changes are trends…"
It seemed rather strange to the man in his suit that these words were all said by a youth who seemed to be a perfect example of a juvenile delinquent.
"Whether in a suit or in a loincloth, people are ignorant little thorns cutting into one another" the yellow orbs went to look down at the floor, his hands clawing at the hem of his shirt, "They seem incapable of advancing beyond the violent tendencies which at one time were necessary for survival… God, am I boring you??"
"Oh no! No! Go on! I am here to listen!" Dear GOD, please let me live through this day. "The second one… you still haven't answered… the one about the…"
"Oh! For protecting people…? Well, that's a bit of a paradox, at least from what I know; I'm sure that if you searched into the lives of some of these victims you would find out that they themselves were the cause of their very deaths
"In those cases, the so called 'victims'" he emphasized the word with the help of his fingers, "At some earlier time played some part in the creation of their 'killer'. I believe that the life ended for the fact that it was wasted on something that would never evolve beyond the childish cruelty so many never cast off"
"Oh… okay…" looking very clueless, not even listing a letter of what the boy had said.
"Now, ask another one…" he said, looking very much interested in this little interview.
"Sure… Mm…" not wanting to be the cause of any annoyance to the boy, he glanced down to his papers and looked for a question that the maniac might like "So what do you think of the idea that violence on television and other media, have a negative affect on kids and other impressionable minds?"
He heard the other snicker; he took it upon himself to life his eyes from the words on his pad and could see the boy was close to cracking.
"Any pile of stunted growth unaware that entertainment is just that and nothing more, deserves to doom themselves to dank cells somewhere for having been so stupid!!!" he doubled over at what he thought was the most amusing thing he heard, "Movies, books, TV, music- they're all just entertainment! Not guidebooks for damning yourselves!!"
"These are some fantastic answers! I'm sorry I was so nervous before, but don't worry now I'd be glad to go on with the questions" the survey man smiled and felt the terror from before fade away, "I've got one but its pretty weird… You might remember the girl found behind the mall, very strange. She was drained of all her blood; police think that the killer might have some sort of vampirism thing… like he drinks his victim's blood…! What do you think?"
Without the sound of another heartbeat, two extremely sharp knives pulled out of nowhere were carefully making soft but lethal contact to his neck. His host was not anymore sitting on his own box but was standing in front of the man, his eyes trained on him with all the anger and annoyance one could muster.
"I NEVER DRANK HER BLOOD!!!!!!!!!" maniac mode was on, and he was going delirious at the thought that everyone sees him as some sort of blood sucking creature without feelings, "BUT I NEEDED IT!!!!!!"
"YOU SEE!!" he pointed to a wall that was badly painted with red paint or… "It changes color when it dries!! It never stays!! I HAVE TO KEEP THE WALL WET!!"
"Oh my god…"
"I hope Papa would like my drawing!"
Shuichi was happily walking home from school; he was carrying a piece of paper in his cute little hands. It was a picture he made with the broken crayons he scraped on the floor. He drew a very crude looking angel- give him a break, he's just seven years old.
He passed by the scary neighbor's house, and without warning the window on the left suddenly exploded, throwing away shard of glasses here and there. And from the outburst flew out a very huge thing.
Whatever it was.
It landed right in front of the pink haired boy.
And it happened to be the survey man. This time, he was without his two hands and left foot. What was left of the man's limbs were just the bones, a few veins that used to connect certain limbs and blood oozing out from those casualties.
He also lost his glasses.
"Ask a different question!!"
Shuichi ran away as fast as he can, dropping his childish sketch along in the air, screaming away.