Thanks to all of you who've read so far. This story is not done, and it will never be done. I call this the last chapter because it is the last one I've written, and I'm not likely to write any more. But if I do, I will post it here. And if you haven't forgotten about it, you will see it. Enjoy!

"-was found early yesterday morning in the Living Canvas section of the new Live Art Museum on Forty-fourth and Pacific. The 24 year old is survived by her father, step-mother, and two siblings. They pleaded last night for anyone with any information to come forward. Memorial services will be held at Trinity Triumph, and the procession will close down portions of the White Bridge later today-"

"Tsk tsk," said Meat.

"What?" Nny was nailing the wooden plaque, Push Here For Intelligent Conversation, over the tv.

"Don't you see what you're doing?"

He shrugged. His hair stuck out at all angles, stinking of body fluids. He squinted and aimed the hammer. The last nail was in. He looked at the sign and then the tv. "It's a bit ironic, really."

Meat sighed and clicked the tv off. "You're going through the same old shit," he said, hopping onto the couch. "This is another cycle. You haven't gotten anywhere, Johnny."

"Shut up," Nny waved him away and threw the hammer down into the cellars.

"You're not listening." Meat grinned. "This is the part where you really want to listen, Johnny."

"Stop saying my name like that." Nny jumped onto the couch. The springs in the cushions broke through the outer fabric.

"Think about it. What's all this for, anyway? You killed that girl, and she had been so nice to you."

"Nice?!" Nny pulled his shirt sleeve up. "You call this nice? What the fuck kind of nice is that?"

"You did that, not her." Meat retied the makeshift bandage.

"How do I know that for sure, huh?" Nny yanked his arm away. "I don't remember doing it, and you didn't say anything about seeing me do it-"

"Actually, I did see you do it-"

Nny squinted one eye dangerously. "Why didn't you say something? Stop me next time! Now I've got this fucking permanent thing-"

"You're missing the point! Do you know why you did it? Do you understand the motivation for the continuation of this cycle?" Meat climbed on Nny's lap and pulled his eyelids up and out.

"Aaugh!" Nny threw the plastic figure across the room. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"That woke you," Meat rubbed the back of his head. "Now listen to me Johnny, LISTEN. You have to realize what you're doing."

Nny raged around the room, kicking the walls and howling at the blood that dripped down from the corners of his eyes. Meat waited.

"What," Nny punched the couch, "what the fuck is it you need me to realize?"

"You find something beautiful, and then you destroy it."

"That's your all-powerful statement of the night?" Nny screamed. Spit ran down his chin. "I already knew that! That's my fucking job, it seems!" He ran his thumbs across his bleeding eyes.

"Exactly!" Meat smoothed his apron. "It was your job. It's your job now. You haven't changed a thing! You thought you were a slave to some ridiculous monster, which did have its own place in the scheme of things, but you're really only a slave to your own internal drives. Can't you see? You haven't changed."

Nny shook his head in disgust. He ripped the cushions off the couch and lay on the hard support beneath.

"You need input, Johnny. You're screaming for it. What do you think I am? I'm the embodiment of all that must be expressed. You continue to only give your own demons the chance to emerge."

Nny traced one finger over his sleeve, frowning.

"This is Devi all over again. She made you happy. Going to that museum made you happy. Watching the stars makes you happy. But there's something in you that won't let you just enjoy it. You have to go out and destroy all happiness, before it even gets a chance to take root."

Nny pulled his sleeve back. The bandage was starting to rot with blood; some his, some not.

"Do you know what happens to a stagnant pool of water?"

"Fuck you," Nny said quietly. He looked up at the ceiling. It ran funny; gray with slim streaks of red. It seemed familiar.

"It becomes filthy. A small pond needs to be cleaned and replenished often- whether by the rains or small streams."

"I'm not a pool of fucking water." Nny turned his back to his hallucination. He felt numb and empty, as if Meat had pulled something other than his eyelids from his face.

"It's a metaphor. You've been by yourself for too long. You need others, Nny, and not in the way you've been taking them for these past years. You manufacture your own poison."

Nny scoffed and curled one arm under his head. The back of the couch was filled with little winding holes. A tiny black insect darted from one to another.

"Do you remember what we were talking about the other night?"

Nny made a noise. Another insect darted out. He smashed it into the wood with the heel of his hand.

"We were talking about how living isn't really living if you're the living dead."

"Oh god," Nny rolled his eyes and then winced at the pain.

"Living and freedom, it's all intertwined. Are you truly living if you're not free from the things that chained you before? You've neglected parts of yourself for too long." Meat spread his arms. "One last time, are you alive or dead?"

"I don't really care right now." Nny watched the holes for glimpses of black. His stomach felt faintly ill.

Meat was silent.

Nny squished a few more insects.

Push Here For Intelligent Conversation.

Nny's vision blurred. He hit the couch harder. Bits of wood broke off.

The meaning of life is change.

Splinters bit into his knuckles, his palms, his arms- whatever he was using to smash the wood.

Everything that's done is done once, and can't be changed.

"Shut up!" He pounded with both fists. Little insects crawled over his arms and stained the bloody bandage with their bodies.

If everything that's been done can't be changed, then life can't be everything that's been done. Life can't be doing the same thing over and over and over and over-

"Yes! You've finally got it, Nny!"

Pound-pound-pound- He pounded the stars and Ixmielle's scarf and the little girl with the pigtails and Her face and the glass walls and the crimson that ran down them and the skinny black figure with no heart-

The back of the couch collapsed. Wood crumbled into his face and dried his throat, cutting his screams hoarse. He coughed up splinters and minute crystals of water treatment chemicals.

"Well," Meat walked over and brushed filth off Johnny's forehead. Nny panted, tongue covered in dust. Red tears ran into the curves of his ears.

He sat up and rolled onto the floor, heaving. The bandage had ripped away. He shut his eyes against the letters of skin and scab. "I don't think dead people feel this shitty."

Finivit