Have to get back to the freelance writing. Ugh. So boring.
Dayton arrived at the gas station twenty minutes later. The night couldn’t encroach on the lights, but it was waiting for them to die out, to rip existence apart and swallow the tatters. Or so his little green friends were trying to tell him.
But the gas station was calling his name, and the demented green rabbits wearing little top hats looked at him strangely. Harry would be able to help him out. The man always came through, in some form or the other.
“I was going to sell these pills to a minor. Good thing you showed up,” Harry said. He was always a man filled with idle threats.
Dayton gave him a noir-ish look. “A green-haired rabbit is trying to worm its way out of your mouth. And that top hat it was wearing just fell to the floor…”
“Sounds like next big hit street drug. I should stock up on the anti-street drug. Everyone needs to sober up at some point. I’ll make millions!” Harry said, making the shape of a billboard with his hands, and smiling, revealing a silver filling.
“I need your anti-thing, Harry.”
“Oh, here. Take it. You earned it after you fully stocked the meat plant. I’ve never seen so much deer meat,” Harry trailed off.
Dayton eyed the pills suspiciously before throwing them down his gullet. It felt like swallowing an anvil. He made a face. “I think you got the better end of the deal.”
“There will be many more, my friend. And don’t ever tell me that you need my anti-thing!”
Dayton nodded, grabbed a soda off the shelf, and left the store. The rabbits were still fucking with his head as he walked across the parking lot. Their green fur seemed to intensify in color, and their eyes were like haunting little pebbles. Like the kind you would see at the beach. They crawled along the streetlamps in a creepy spiral formation, and he chose to look at the cars or a confused looking old man skulking by the corn fields. The need to distract yourself to get through life was a fundamental law of nature.
The fetid breath of a broken man
Created a massive universe
Shock to the Hillside
Fuzzy brains just want coffee
But it’s too late for that
And too early for
“Two-Toes Swamp Dweller”
It’s also true that language
Doesn’t usually address glaciers
Or pockets of warmth in the
Just give it a shot next time
When the earth has reset
And governments decide
For the same structure then as now
In a unifying miracle
Maybe the glaciers will give you curt nods
A sign of respect
They will hold the line
As they are pitted against nukes
Let loose by a very successful man
Goodnight, everyone. It’s been a pleasure.
The night was smothering and warm, and Dayton Blake didn’t know quite what to do with it. He was sitting on a faded, sunken in lawn chair in a parking lot of an abandoned retail store across from his home. Dayton needed some down time, away from the familiar and stale, but he didn’t trust most people in this town. They were all bored little shitheads that spent any excess cash on bingbangboom.com, a gambling website. Not that Dayton didn’t do the same, but he liked to diversify his portfolio every now and then.
So he watched his home with a can of bumbeer in his hand. The activity was hypnotic, and he could practically hear the mosquitoes buzzing on the edge of the vast bog he had only explored a few times. Mostly uninteresting swampland with a few horrifying experiences to offer.
Dayton’s phone rang.
“Give that lawn chair of yours a break, meet me you-know-where.”
Dayton grunted and clicked the end call button. He still resented having to upgrade to a smartphone. It had been an annoyingly social month so far.
As the night seemed like it would be one incident after another, Dayton was trying to steel himself for the festivities nature had in store. Glowing green rabbits were hopping along on the other side of the street, no doubt a side-effect of the contents of the vial he had chugged down earlier. So much for a cure. That liquid coursing through his body was just another problem.
I have another idea for a series, might premiere it soon.