The Johnny Chronicles: Episode II

Johnny was out mowing his lawn.

It was a hot summer day. The sun was shining, it was hot, and it was most definitely summer. A typical hot, summer day. Believe it or not!

“JOHNNY!” cried Johnny’s wife from the patio, in her shrill womanly voice.

“UH, YEAH!” he replied. Distracted by his wife, he accidentally ran over a sprinkler head, hidden in the grass. There was a lot of noise, not pretty noise, that other writers would love to describe to you in a really lovely poetic descriptive fashion. You can go ask them if you want.

“EH, GARBAGE!!!” Johnny shouted in awesome fury as he turned the mower off.

Johnny’s neighbor, Jimbo, peeked over the fence.

“A HEH HEH HEH!” he laughed.

A man, wielding a briefcase and wearing a nice suit, came walking up the sidewalk. “HELLO THERE! I’M A BUSINESSMAN!” he said, coming towards Johnny. “HAVE YOU ANY NEED OF BUSINESS?”

“Why, yes. I do,” said Johnny, sticking out his hand to shake the businessman’s hand.

“JOHNNY!!!” cried his wife again.

“SHADDAP MARTHA!” yelled Johnny. “WE’VE GOT COMPANY!”

“It’s all right,” said the businessman. He was well groomed, well shaven. But in a way, he wasn’t. He had a cheery air about him. But in a way, he didn’t. He smelled like Cuban cigars. But he didn’t really. Johnny couldn’t quite put his finger on him. But he tried.

“Come here son,” said Johnny, sticking his index finger out to touch him. “Come here.”

“Sir,” said the businessman. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t put your finger on me.”

“Come here son,” said Johnny again, his finger inching closer to the man’s face.

“Sir, what are you doing?” asked the businessman, becoming quite alarmed. “What are you doing?! STOP! RIGHT NOW!”

“Come here son!” said Johnny, his voice becoming raspy and more vicious. His finger made contact with the businessman’s forehead, and immediately, the point of contact on the skin started to sizzle.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY HEAD?” cried the businessman, as Johnny’s finger began to burn a hole into the man’s head. “OUCH! MY HEAD!”

“JOHNNY!!!” cried his wife again. She sounded like a vulture.

“SHADDAP MARTHA!” yelled Johnny. “I’M BURNING A HOLE IN THIS NICE MAN’S HEAD!”

“JOHNNY, THE TELEVISION SET WON’T WORK!” she cried again.

“OUCH, MY FREAKIN HEAD!” cried the businessman in agony. At some point, he left, disgusted, not only because of the repulsive disgusting hole in his head, but because he was just plain mad. It was just another bad day.

 

                                                                          The End…?