Any way this is a story about John Doe (duh!)And how he is
feeling at the moment. It is probably only going to be a one-
shot as I am currently preoccupied with my Sirius Black (I love
him!) story, a summer assignment, lack of sleep, volunteer
hours, my Chevelle CD, and the Tamora Pierce series. But, hey
you never now right? So enjoy-OH sorry- I don't own John Doe or
the related objects...FOX do I suppose.   John Doe sat at the
end of a long rotting pier. The setting sun dancing on the calm
ocean water. John tossed a smooth stone in to the flat surface
and it rippled slightly. He looked at the aging pillar beside
him. Names were carved in to it: 'Nancy wuz here' and 'Duffy is
Super Cool' jumped out at him. Smirking he reached for a twig to
carve his name. But, halfway through he realized...he didn't
have a name...he was nobody.  "Why," he called to the setting
sun,"why don't I have a meaning?" 'For that is of course what a
name was, right?' he thought.  A name was there to tell people
you tell people you had a