Johnny Boy more like Johnny Boy Toy

Laying incapacitated atop a galling sofa wasn't how Johnny-boy pictured himself spending his precious time that day. You see, after a fateful crash in the race we-dare-not-mention-for-the-sake-of-preventing-JB-going-into-spiraled-apathy (along other crazy random-happenstances), had caused this mundane display of broken limbs and cut up faces to occur. Alas, the only thing to comfort him was his rootin-tootin gang of merry misfits, and an old beaten up boxed television from the year 1 playing The Andy Griffith Show. Soulless purple eyes gazed a thousand yards past Andy fishing with his son, with cigarette ashes crumbling on Eckzahns beautiful sofa, leaving a burned scar.

JB was absolutely depressed after the crash, and the loss of the race. Even though he barely escaped with his life. Somehow, someone gave Dollface the spot of some nobody, which just so happened to be the very spot next to Johnny-boy's trusty Transam 2000. That poor beauty was a shipwreck in the middle of buttfuck no-where by now. JB's lifeswork was torn apart in mere seconds of the race starting, and he swore to have revenge on that psychopath alien clown, even if it meant the end of his very life.

So, there he was, miss america, silently fuming and sadly staring at a 1000 year old show while the gang sat in silence. God save Faelan if he decides to get more glitter in greaser-boys hair.

Awkward.

It was the first word that came to Faelan's mind regarding the situation at hand, and he was certain his partner in crime was at least somewhat thinking along the same lines. It was pretty hard to figure out what was going through Eckzahn's head to begin with, but the half cybernetic glance he delivered betrayed his inner conflict. To talk and face the possibility of JB's weird greaser wrath coming at them, or to stay quiet and let everyone mope for a while? As was more or less expected, Faelan was the first one to pipe up.

"So this is tons of fun. I've never had more fun in my life. I am having a fuckin' blast." His sarcasm earned a snort from the white-haired experiment sitting beside him, who absentmindedly swept at the ashes dotting his couch, paying no mind to the moping man laying on his furniture. "I feel inclined to completely disagree with the omega's statement. I am having no fun whatsoever." Came the monotone response from Eckzahn, which was as expected as Faelan's sarcasm. The interaction between the group was clockwork by now, really. It'd be better if JB was playing his part of smooth one-liners rather than moping.

Finally seeming fed up, it was the redhead who shifted over, placing a hand on Johnny-Boy's face in the least possible homosexual manner; though considering who the fae was, it was pretty hard to believe anything he did could be straighter than an onion ring. "Yo. Hey. Speak to me, greaser man. I can feel your hair withering away from the bacon bits you got in it. It's your stunning personality keeping those poor locks alive. Do it for your hair. Don't fail it, not now. Not today. It deserves its father. I can hear it weeping, JB. It's sad. It's very, very sad." "What the fuck are you talking about?" "Don't you sass me, boy." "The alpha is having considerable amounts of difficulty comprehending the wor-" "Blah blah, robot voice here. Do me a favor and shh for a second. I'm trying to cheer up our buddy palhoncho here. Think of the hai-" "Faelan." "The hair, Eckzahn. The hair." "Oh my god."

Ah yes. Clockwork. If nothing else, at least it gave JB something to focus on for more than a few seconds, as their heated discussion about his hair wasn't stopping anytime soon. In fact, it was getting louder, more or less. What a bunch of chucklefucks.