Jason X Michael- A Psycho Love

Missing Weapon

As Michael Myers got home, he flopped down on the old, dusty bed and almost immediately fell asleep. Just before he did, though, he reflected on his day previously:

1.) He woke up

2.) He had breakfast

3.) He went out to get some exercise

4.) He remembered how he had failed to kill his sister

5.) He got pissed

6.) He went around complaining in his head for an hour or two

7.) He got lost

8.) He got into a fight with some dude that he didn't even know

9.) During the fight he landed in an awkward position on top of said dude

10.) He got tired, quit fighting, and ran like hell

11.) He found his way back home

12.) He annoyed the guy he had fought until the guy got pissed

13.) He ran like hell, this time not stopping until he reached his actual house.

/Huh./ Michael thought. /Go figure./ And then he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

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~Meanwhile, at Camp Crystal Lake~

Jason slammed the door to his old cabin shut. He had such a long day. First, he had to climb out of the lake after his huge fight with Freddy, and after that all he wanted to do was relax. But NOOOO! We couldn't possibly have that happen, now could we?! No, he had to fight some dude that was fucking immortal, and got is ass pretty much handed to him. Although, as far as he could tell, whoever that other guy was got pretty beat up too, so it was basically a tie.

Jason sighed loudly- hey, it's not like anyone was around, right? and laid down on his old bed. He was asleep within seconds.

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Michael woke up the next morning with the sun shining in his eyes. He mentally groaned and turned over. Then his alarm clock went off. He glared pure death at it and went to stab it with his kitchen knife.

/That alarm clock id dead! Now where did I put my kitchen knife? Umm.../ He thought, looking around the room drowsily.

He closed his eyes in pure loathing, for the alarm was still going off. He got more annoyed with every passing second, until he couldn't take it anymore and just crushed the thing in between his bare hands, eye twitching in annoyance.

He tossed the remains of the alarm clock aside, and realized that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again if he tried. And so, he got up, got a shower, got dressed in his usual mechanic suit, and then looked all over the house for his knife. It may not seem like much to anyone else, but to Michael, that knife was important to him. It was the knife that he had used to kill his sister, the one that first got him sent to the mental hospital as a kid. If he couldn't escape what he had done, then neither could that knife. He had managed to get it back out of his old house when he first escaped, and used it at least three times. That knife was like his past, present, and future all wrapped up in one. It may sound crazy, but he loved that knife, and he wasn't about to let it go.

And then he remembered. /Crap./ He thought. /I left it at where I fought that crazy guy yesterday at... What was it? Come Bristol Rake..? Stamp Diamond Make? Whatever. I honestly don't care as long as I can get my knife back.../