Synthetic Animals (MCR/Killjoy fanfic)

When The Funeral Ends

Jet Star never returned. Everyone knew he was 'done.' His funeral was quiet. No one dared to cry. They all knew he wanted 'out.' He had lost everything within the past year. His home, his wife, his son, everything. He felt Fun Ghoul was lucky. Even though Ghoul had been in a similar situation, even losing all three of his children, Ghoul had Party Poison. Party, too, had lost his wife and child, though they were not dead; but Part had both his brother and Ghoul. Jet Star had no one.

The funeral, though quiet, was colorful. Mainly blue and yellow, with tints of red. Jet's colors. Kobra took one of Jet's bandanas and put ot in the Mail Box. "If you're dead, this will save your soul. If you're not, I am sorry, but only she can save you now." He, of course, was referring to the Phoenix Witch.

Jet's body was never found, so instead, the Killjoys buried his space helmet, along with his jacket, and as a token of respect, his guitar. The grave's headstone was bright blue, with yellow writing. "JET STAR 1977-2017." In smaller writing it said "Ray Toro. 'Be a burning star if it takes all night.'"

Cherri Cola was the main speaker at the funeral. It was strange, but after the world went to Hell, Cherri became a man of faith. Not in God, but in the Witch. According to him, they were good friends. "We never know what lies for us in the desert. Shadows, Rats, Stars, Dracs, Pigs, Bats, Killjoys, humans; but we do know the obvious. Death awaits us all. This is not a joyous occasion, but it is not a sad one, either. We have been called here today not to remember the death of our friend, but instead, we are here to be reminded that another burning Star has joined the sky. Jet will forever look down on us from the night, and though his shadow lives on in the desert, his spirit lives on in the sky."

Everyone said "amen" in unison. There was no God, but it was tradition. As everyone was standing around, a bottle of scotch was being passes. Everyone took a swig, even Party. This was also tradition. Killjoy tradition. It was more about honor then anything else. Everyone took a sip of the aged scotch, and when everyone had one sip, the rest of the bottle was poured onto the deseasant's grave.

The Killjoys stood around the grave in silence. After a long, and intense few minutes, Party spoke up. "What do we do now?"

"We drink," Ghoul pulled out a flask from his jacket, "then we die."

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Hey guys!

My little sister is a bitch and hates fanfiction, so she is making it really hard to write this.

Anyways, this chp is supposed to be more intense then I think it came out...yikes.

Also, regular updates! Yay!!!!!!!!

Do you love me yet? "No." Oh, okay.

Love you all,

<3 Charr