People always wondered why Johnny became a pornstar.

'Well, I just like fucking.' He often answered. ‘And I’m good at it so…’

‘Aren't you afraid of STDs?' Was the second question he heard, at which he simply laughed, or when bored, replied the following.

‘Living gets boring you know. After a while, emotions fade out, like coloured clothes, washed too many times. So, you know, I thought, why not make my life more interesting.' Naturally, nobody took him seriously and many worried about his mental state, but Johnny didn't care about that. He didn’t even care about STDs, firstly because he hated condoms, and secondly, it was impossible for him to catch any of them. But that's to be expected when you're somewhat immortal. And as you may understand, he couldn't reveal that to anyone, so he just laughed it off.

On Tuesday, Johnny left the set late, while the sun was still in the sky. He got in his car and went for a ride through the highways of California. Then drove home at San Francisco. He got into his apartment and sat on the sofa to rest. It was dark now outside and a blue hue entered his windows. It reminded him of that day it all started. He planned to obsess about it sometime, but one of his many posters distracted him.

“If I learned to paint colour like that Korean illustrator does then I’d be happy, for a while at least.’ He thought to himself. He pondered on that for a second, then got up and took off his costume. After that he put on a t-shirt, which was thrown on the sofa, wore a pair of jeans and some sneakers. He left his apartment and went around the corner, to his favourite pizza place, Toni's. He ordered two slices of pepperoni with some Szechuan sauce on the side, for dipping the crust. The waiter brought his order to the wooden table. They had few customers today. It was a nice place, with red bricks and few art prints. The art prints were quite mediocre though.

‘Do you like them?‘ Asked the waiter.

‘They're fine.' Johnny replied.

‘Sure you don't want anything to drink with that pepperoni of yours?' Joked the waiter. Johnny looked at him. He was buff, with a thick, trimmed beard. He looked like a guy, he once collaborated with. Bad actor.

'You're very considerate, but no thanks'. Said Johnny who then moved his attention on his pizza. After finishing his meal, he took out a cherry flavoured lollipop and got up. The waiter stared. Johnny headed for the bathroom, took a piss and washed his hands. There was no one around. He briefly took the lollipop out of his mouth and whispered.

'Nightcrawler.' Then suddenly, through a black cloud of smoke, he disappeared from that small pizza place in Telegraph Hills. He reappeared, at another time, miles away, at the Grand Canyon. He gazed at the gorgeous landscape for a while.

'Strawberries, Mozart and Chicken soup.' He uttered and then sucked on his lollipop again. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the receipt from the pizza place. There was a phone number on the back, scribbled hastily. The waiter's. He crumbled the receipt and threw it away. The wind carried it until it was no longer visible.

'That red and light blue. Damn, it always gets me.' Then with a flick of his arm he conjured up a black sketchbook. He flipped briefly through its pages to reach a blank page. Inside it were many anatomical sketches, some copies of classical paintings and frescos, and some architectural designs, sketched with Indian ink. He took a sanguine coloured pencil, like the one Da Vinci used for his drawings and then sat down in the hot, hard stone. He stared at the horizon.

“All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”