• Juan sat in his room looking at the walls and avoiding eye contact with any who wandered in, he also took special precaution not to look in the mirror. Most thought of this as an act a front for why one would use the stage name of “Crazy Juan” but the motions were more of a time to be alone and not see the thing that haunted him. The being that had been with him since he could remember. His medication began to act but slower now then it used to and he turned to the door.
    “You’re on.” The stage manager said as entered the room, and just as quickly as he entered he disappeared from the doorframe. Juan stood and exited the room with a careful glance toward the mirror. “He’s not real...” he said to himself and exited. If he had looked longer he would have noticed a face appear, triangular, two dimensional, purple, but with one glowing red eye, and hair of the darkest midnight. The face waited for juan to fully leave before uttering “I am real, you just have to learn the hard way.”

    Juan put on a hard set and ended with his single “Poclipid” which no one sure entirely what it was about but it spoke deeply of an old friend and people identified with it. He walked back to his room in the arena and dressed to leave when he heard, “Great show tonight.” In a voice he knew well but hadn’t heard in some time. It sounded like it came from the mirror but he wasn’t sure. He turned to look and saw his manager. “Crazy Juan’s appeal never wears out.” He said and then began listing tour dates left to play. Juan was not a dullard by any means and took in his manager’s attributes, a short balding man with glasses who was much to Juan’s chagrin, far inferior to Juan in intellect, although he knew all the ins and outs of the music business.
    Juan then thought of himself. A young man with curly brown hair that stood out like a palm tree and one of those people who was just born with the gift of brain power. He was shunned throughout his early years because of the ease he maintained his grades and how he never needed the teachers to tell him how anything worked. It was at that time that he came found a friend within what everyone believed was his own mind.
    Juan and his friend, a God, or so Juan explained him, who was purple, had black hair, and one eye that sometimes glowed red. Juan’s parents thought of this friend as any parents would, as imaginary, and let it go on until Juan reached Jr. High. He still believed in this “Deity” and was now committing acts of arson and assault, and blaming it on his friend, The Poclipid. It was then that Juan started the medication, and when he stopped seeing the Poclipid, it was also when Juan started to find a kinship with music, and found out he was a very talented individual in the area of Rap.

    Juan’s manager finished the recitation of the list of dates and looked at Juan. “So are you ready to go?” Juan nodded and followed his manager out and to the limousine that was waiting to take them to the hotel and later to the plane. Though if he had looked at his mirror before leaving he’d have seen his old friend again.

    Juan lay in his room and stared at the ceiling. “Why am I still taking these? Why am I convinced that he’s not real?” He thought and rolled over; before long he was asleep.

    Juan was in a run down building in the middle of the night, his body and clothing were the only thing not cartoony about the surroundings, as well as the only thing in standard lighting, but he was unfazed by it. The surrounding violet and bluish hews to the random quadrangle walls with holes in them were familiar. “I haven’t been here in a while...” He mumbled and wandered around in the familiar place. He first went to the kitchen where a blender sat on the counter. As soon as Juan entered the Blender jumped up and changed from the same nightish color of the room to a full light version, as Juan himself was, it also had eyes and the lid acted as a mouth with the cup. It burped and then followed juan, it’s cord dragging behind.
    With the 2D blender in tow Juan went to the living room, nothing there was of interest to him so he continued past to the bedroom and bathroom. A Poorly drawn red sneaker with eyes was sitting in the bathroom, as was his manager in the shower. Juan exited, then entered again, it was at this time that the manager saw Juan and asked what he was doing, before answering Juan exited and entered again, replying “Shower’s Broke.” Just as the shoe, in a high pitched voice did. Juan exited now with a blender and a shoe following behind.
    Juan’s manager exited the shower and pulled on a towel. He confronted Juan and demanded to know what was going on. Juan looked to his manager and asked, “Why are you Three dimensional like me?” Then Juan noticed the paper on the wall with a young man’s face, black hair combed in a suave fashion in the 2D style everything else was in. The Manager was stunned by the question and attempted to answer before bursting into flames.
    Juan had seen that the paper on the flat purple wall had changed slightly, where as the eyes turned a glowing red. “Poclipid? I thought you were gone!” The face in the poster tried to act innocent and Juan once again called to it, “No use in hiding it I know what you are Poclipid. So come on, I haven’t seen you in ages.” The face smiled, the eyes glew red and morphed into one The skin turned purple and the paper grew into a fully clothed body. Once the transformation was complete the Poclipid and Juan hugged and Juan smiled before thinking of something. “I’m still on the medication, I took a pill when I entered my Hotel room. That must mean you’re real!” The Poclipid shook his head and then turned to where the ashes of the manager lay. “I hope he payed you for tonight...” He said in a low voice and then looked at the shoe and blender, “You two keep him safe, He’ll have to run here shortly.”

    Juan woke suddenly and he didn’t know his surroundings, upon closer inspection, he was in his manager’s room and there was a pile of ashes by his feet. He saw this and knew the explanation and he also knew the likely suspect. So he flew down the stairs and into his Limo. “Drive as fast as possible to the airport.” The driver almost asked but acquiesced and Juan arrived at the Airport in time to make the next flight to Spain where the real story begins...