A girl I dated once said to me, "You only feel when you bleed." This must give you the impression that I was dating an Art School-Vampire. She was more like the acid-washed Molly Ringwald, but that doesn’t matter. I fell in total Lust with this woman because she told me what I had been thinking my entire life. Pain is food. A food that is essential to the growth of one’s soul.

Lets talk about violence, shall we? Violence in the media is an easy target. "If we get rid of all the violent movies, television shows and comic books the world would be Utopia!" An easily believable answer. Just ask you mom.

Jhonen Vasquez has touched something important here. There is a little monster inside all of us, a little wolf-faced monkey that needs to be satiated. As people, we mustn’t ignore that monster. If we do, we cheat ourselves. We deny an emotion, a feeling,

Think of something who pissed you off. Some yutz who cur you off in traffic; a prick ass Kinko’s employee who took three hours to copy your resume; the bully who spit in your face when you were eight. Now, in your head, relive that moment. This time, however, don’t just stand there and take it. This time you’ve got a knife. Pill if out from behind your back and watch the status flip-flop. Suddenly, Mr.Kinko isn’t so cocky. The playground bully is crying for his mother.

Smell their fear. Then, kill them. Kill them like you see in the movies. Make is as horrible as possible. Release that monster and stab that knife deep into their face.

As humans, we are taught to forget that we are animals. Animals kill to survive and its just as natural for us. To deny nature is to deny life. Now that you have committed murder in your dream world, relax. Take a deep breath, give your monster a high five and put him away. You’ve just used and evil fantasy to keep you civilized and sane.

Some may call this irresponsible advice. They kid themselves that their monster doesn’t exist. And when a person lies to themselves, they is less change to spiritual growth. More than likely, their monster will step out of the Dreamworld and into the Real world. That’s how a society gets messy. Lost of neglected, hungry monster.

Johnny the Hocicidal Maniac gives our monster something to chew on. It’s pain-food that wears it’s teeth down. Johnny represents Jhonen Vasquez’s monster.

Rob Scrab

June 1997

Medicine

Sweat trickled off his brow, his breath ragged as if the devil himself was chasing him in the night. The wind hit his tent with vigor, not intending to stop. Moonlight made shadows of tree branches look like something that would strike fear in any being, human or not. Rustling of leaves and footsteps coming louder and louder. Toni was wide awake by the time the first gust of wind swept inside. Eyes frantically searched for anything that may be out of the ordinary other than the sound of footsteps coming toward him with determination.

He sat upright, his sleeping bag falling off his shoulders. The shadow of the man was seen faintly, only to grow larger. The youth in the tent could only count on his sense of hearing to help him see what the thoughts of the man outside could be. Was this how others felt, how others feared?

Closer now, Toni could see the outline of a blade, an axe blade. It couldn’t be. The shadow of the man’s arm reached out and opened the flap of the tent, only to make the man be seen, hidden in shadows of the abyss. Stepping in, raising the axe, the face of the man was finally seen when the moonlight reflected off the blade and landed.

Toni shook with fright as the face he saw was his own. He was now the victim of all his murders in this campground. The unseen figure was always lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for night to fall when he could go on a blood run. Toni loved the feel of blood running down his flesh, to hear the person’s muffled scream when the axe hit their beating hearts. Now it was his turn.

The next morning police cars were lined up and caution tape was put up in a square around the now red tent. When Detective Malcom opened the flap, it only revealed what he had seen so many times before. The man in the tent was disposed of his limps. They had been placed on each side of the tent and the axe left in his chest. It was time that the person who has helped Death in his rampage, has a spoonful of his own medicine.