Talk:Jeff the Killer 2015/@comment-33702916-20180115040103/@comment-25052433-20180121075811

Honestly I'm not too sure if he's two-faced or not, at least, not after he goes mad and becomes the "killer" concept. I mean, from what little we actually get to see of the character afterwards, he actually seems rather straight forward and follows through with his actions.

He set out to kill her parents in a fit of controled insanity, or 'the syrup' as I state about a million times in this story. But he made the plan and he stayed the course. Good on him.

Now, the instances of Jeff and his relationship with his parents, brother and filler "neighborhood friends" characters is not really explored, as the 10,000 word limit forced me to stay somewhat on track. Perhaps there were times when Jeff was a bit two-faced. I mean, he was just a kid after all.

I remember one time when I was a few years younger than the age Jeff is prestented in this story. Now, fun fact, I actually grew up in Walnut Square Apartments in New Orleans East, the same section of town (and apartment complex) that Jeff and his family were living before they moved to Mandeville. I remember I had this friend named Rudy. Rudy was a nice enough kid and all, but he was really clumsy and heavy handed with other people's stuff.

I still remember when my mom bought me this Mike Tyson's Punch-Out pinball type toy. I really can't describe it. It wasn't really pinball, but you had to flick this little steel ball and try to land it in different holes on the small game board that were worth different amounts of points based on difficulty. I was just a little junky trinket, but it had Nintendo stuff on it, and to pre-teen Banning, that meant it might as well have been made of solid gold.

Anyway, I'm standing outside playing with it, flicking the little steel ball for points (thinking back, as much as I consider Generation X to be the greatest of all time, we did have some boring crap to play with.) Rudy then walks up to me and asks if he can try out my Punch-Out toy. I told him sure. I turn to stare at nothing in particular for a moment and then Rudy comes back and tells me that he'd somehow broken my amazing toy in under a minute.

The faces of Bald Bull, Glass Joe and Little Mac stared back at me from behind the plastic case, their eyes accusing. How could I have allowed Rudy to break them so quickly? Did I not know it would happen?

I swore I'd make things right. So, a couple days later I rolled Rudy's bike into the canal that ran behind our apartments. It sank. These canals are deep folks. That bike was GONE!

As my friend stared at me, tears forming in his eyes, demanding to know why I would throw his bike into the canal, I knew that I could go home that night and tell Glass Joe and the others that things were balanced once more.

Sadly, Rudy snitched on me immediately, his mom threatened to take my mom to small claims court if she didn't replace the bike. My mom had to shell over some cash. Rudy got a new bike. I got my ass whipped by my mother and then she pawned a bunch of my video games to make up the money that she had to give to Rudy's mom.

Now, Spooky Nyan Cat.... are your ready for the twist? One of the games that she pawned was Mike Tyson's Punch-Out! I'd had it all for a while. The video game as well as the crappy piece of plastic pinball thing based on the video game. I had two different Mike Tyson's Punch-Out games. Then, in an act of revenge, I rolled Rudy's bike into the canal. Then Rudy snitched. Because he was two-faced. A dirty, two-faced, game breaking, new bike riding little snitch.

So, I hope that answers your question. Yes, Rudy is now... well, sort of always has been, two-faced. I mean, he could have just said that he lost the bike, right?

P.S. I found a picture on the internet of the very Mike Tyson's Punch Out plastic pinball thing that led to the eventual insanity of Jeff Woods. I'll post it (or upload if you will) below and you too can gaze upon it.

And as always, thanks for reading!





And just for you, here's a little lagniappe as we like to say down here in New Orleans. (It means extra or additional, greater than promised or expected.)