And now for something completely different

For lack of anything better to say, here's some excerpts from a story I was writing a while back. I think they're funny in context, and slightly funnier out of context. So...enjoy. Or don't. Whichever. (the first person point of view is Faith, the guy is Shepcan. Yes, Shepcan. It's a point of contention. Shut up)

Geez, he was either a psychopath or his mommy never taught him about the rainbow.

“So why did you name yourself? Or did you not have a name to start with?” Silence bugs me.
“Does it matter?” he considered me.
“If you want the rest of my name, it does. It’s not creepy enough that you walk in cemeteries at night, pick up girls that you watch rise from graves, and live in a psycho house, but now you have an alias? Dude, it’s like you’re stalker of the year.”
“What’s wrong with my house?” he fairly pouted. Of all the things I said, he chose that one to dispute. Naturally, that would have been the one I picked.
“It’s black and white! The only colour you have is shut behind the cabinet doors and the fridge! It’s like, ‘the better to see your blood with, my dear.’ I’m sure the red would stand out fetchingly. You should have named yourself Creepy McStalker.”

Shepcan: “Yes, I have, but I want to hear your story. You seem, for lack of a better word, different.”
Faith:“I bet you tell that to all the suicide victims.”

It was like falling asleep, seriously, except for the pain and the desire to scream and claw my eyes out and the feeling that I was on fire as I felt each and every organ shut down. It was really great, if the new definition of great is unbelievable suck.

It was nice knowing he was upset for me. Or he just wanted me to stop crying. One of those.