Johnny's War.

Just after the current batch of customers cleared out, and just before the next batch waddled in, Johnny took time to plunk a fresh batch of plain donuts into the hot oil.

Then, with a motion of his finger and a nod, he took Phil aside in confidence, and said "look, I know you're an idealistic kid, and this is gonna sting a bit, which is all the more reason to get this over with, and shatter your illusions before you get tackled even harder by reality. Donuts are WAR, kid. You think I'm crazy now, but you'll see. Donuts are WAR".


Just then, he clammed up, as the customers were coming through the door.

Johnny stared with a fierce intensity and mumbled under his breath so the patrons couldn't hear so well "you remember what I said, kid. Now go refill the coffee machine".


Phil put himself on autopilot for the rest of his shift, his body robotically performing it's assigned thankless menial chores, his mind inexorably fixated on Johnny's words.

"Donuts are war? How the fuck are donuts war? Is he saying weird stupid shit to yank my chain, or is he just fucking crazy? Jesus, Christ, I've got to get out of this fucking town", Phil thought to himself in a repeating mobius strip.

Nothing would shake it loose either.
Injecting jelly filling into donuts wouldn't distract his mind from it, having a smoke in the parking lot didn't sooth the quake in his nerves, and yanking his crank in the men's room only made the chill in his spine ease for a few fleeting moments.

The deep hidden horror of those words set a pall over his soul.
Was there no relief?
Many were the times he considered simply asking Johnny what the fuck he was talking about, but the prospect of it all being just a lame chain yank, and thus by asking, eliciting a cruel chuckle and a "it doesn't mean anything STUPID", didn't really appeal to him.

But, Phil realized, his options were quickly running out.
Sooner or later, he was just going to have to ask.
But the longer he delayed this, the more elaborate the means of comfortably broaching the subject became.
Phil realized one thing, Johnny was a genius.
Either deliberately, or by an accidental idiot savant type of deal, he had with three strange words put his mind into an intractable emotional and social trap.
Genius.
Pure evil genius.
Phil's simultaneous hatred of, and respect for Johnny were awesome.

Finally, around closing time, Phil choked back tears of humiliation, and cleared his nervously tightening throat to ask Johnny what he fuck "donuts are war", meant.

But before he could croak it it out, a giant insect mandible smashed through the roof of the place spraying plaster shards and dust all over the place.

Phil made a mental note that the dust was getting all over the sticky donuts, and that there was no way to pick it all off, they'd simply have to be thrown out.
"What a waste. Poor donuts. They didn't ask for this", Phil mumbled gravely.

"Ain't NOTHING easy about being a donut, kid!", replied Johnny with grim resolve.

Then, the mandible made a second strike, and drove an even deeper hole into the roof.
This time, wood and masonry crumbled through.

Fixated on the ceiling, Phil became faintly and disconnectedly aware that Johnny had started screaming something at him, and had handed him a shotgun.

What happened next made his previous inner turmoil look even more ridiculous than it already was.


Two hours later, Phil and Johnny had killed the giant ant, finished dismembering it's corpse, wrapping it's limbs and body segments up in black trash bags, and stuffing them into the dumpster out back.

Johnny then leaned up against the wall of the store, wiped green insect goo off his hands onto his jeans, and lit up a cigarette.

"So, you're probably wondering what that was all about, eh kid?", Johnny asked with a trace of gruff irony in his voice.

Phil nodded his head silently, still half in shock.

"Well, over the years, I've toyed with a few theories. Best one I can come up with, is that reality has like, leaky spots in places, that allow all the Frankensteins, and Draculas, and Martians, and Gargoyles to slip into this world from the world of our collective daydreams right? And for some weird complicated reason I can't figure out, all these leaky spots have donut shops, pizza joints, and chinkfood places built on top of 'em. And see, it's up to us chosen fast food types to take care of these critters at night. Trouble is, the leaks seem to be growing, thus letting bigger things through. Like f'rinstance these giant ants. That's a new one on me".

Phil once again simply nodded.

"So, if the challenges are gonna keep getting bigger, I'm gonna need a partner to help run the place. 'Specially the night shift. So, you know the whole score now, kid. You in, or you out?".

Strangely, the answer came to Phil's lips instantly "I'm in! I've never felt so alive!".

Johnny grinned and nodded "Knew you would kid, knew you would. I can see it in people's eyes if they're the type".
Then, Johnny's expression became grave "if the Devil or whoever is sending giant ants this time, next time he might send giant spiders, or birds, or maybe even fuggin' Godzilla. We might have to call on the pizza boys, or the chinks to help someday".

"Let's hope that day is far off, sir", Phil said.

Johnny flicked his cigarette butt away, and stomped it "I hope the christ too, kid".

Then Phil asked "gee, you think all the screaming, and shooting will make the cops show up?".

Johnny raised and eyebrow and chuckled "y'know, it's weird they never come, Whether it's due to the curse, or this shitty town, I don't know. Don't much care either".

Then, they stepped back inside, and started the long cleanup.
It was sunrise before the place was fairly presentable.

When Phil woke up in the afternoon, and turned on the news, what he saw gave him a start.

The donut place had burnt down.

As had a string of other donut places, and a Chinese food restaurant.

The police were theorizing arson, or terrorists, but Phil new.

It had been goblins or a dragon or.....something.

Then, another shocker, Johnny had turned up missing.
Oh, of course they used his real name, but Phil could only ever imagine him as Johnny.
Johnny on the spot.

And deep down, Phil new he couldn't be dead.
No, he had to be alive somewhere, possibly in whatever realm the dragon or whatever had come from.

But, he knew it wasn't for him to resolve.

It wasn't his war.

It was Johnny's war.

Just then, he knew exactly what "donuts are war, kid", meant.

And he wept.

THE END