meat and cotton

(establishing shot of a gas station kinda like the big donut when steven says “nooooo” at the beginning of episode 1, next dialogue shows up at the bottom of the screen)

player: god dammit.

(interior)

game: no chips. well, there’s chips, but not the good ones. everybody with a brain knows it’s red bag or bust. annoyingly, you still feel compelled to buy something so the cashier doesn’t watch you walk out empty-handed and set you on fire. wishing you didn’t have to deal with the burden of social obligations, you grab the first thing you see past all the other shitty chips. it’s a bag labeled “rabbit jerky.” without questioning the implications of this, you take it to check it out.

(check-out area)

brian: …

player: …

game: what an asshole. didn’t even say hi.

player: uh, aren’t you supposed to greet me or something? ask me if I found everything okay? customer service or whatever.

brian: …

game: is this freak gonna say something?

brian: well, you didn’t greet me either.

game: you didn’t.

player: that’s… not the point. you’re supposed to initiate. you’re trained to initiate.

game: he looks down.

brian: rabbit jerky.

game: you feel flustered.

player: you can’t just dodge my ques—

brian: heh. brings back memories. every year for halloween, all the way from pre-school to when I was too old to trick-or-treat, I wore the same rabbit costume. I’d never grow out of it; it was just a pair of ears and this dumb clip-on tail and sometimes I’d draw on whiskers with a black pen from school.

game: you look down at the jerky, starting to feel a bit sick.

player: that’s a bit… morbid. I mean, to hear “rabbit jerky” and remember your childhood rabbit obsession??

brian: i wouldn’t say it was an obsession. only reason i wore it was cuz my parents couldn’t afford to buy me a new costume every year. figured it was better than nothing.

player: didn’t people make fun of you?

brian: yeah, that’s kinda when I decided i was too old for it. must’ve been around eight or nine.

player: you stopped trick-or-treating when you were eight or nine?

brian: I mean, what’s the point? you eat up all your candy in an hour and it’s all stuck to your teeth and you just end up with a stomachache. and it’s over until next year. always made me kinda depressed.

game: you heavily consider commenting on the fact that this guy thinks eating all of your halloween candy within an hour is normal, but given the circumstances, you decide to hold off.

player: …look, I don’t know if I really wanna buy this…

brian: what, the rabbit meat that’s been processed and bastardized past a point of no return for the sole purpose of satisfying a sick little craving humans have for chewy, salty animal flesh?

player: what the f—

brian: nah, I’m just screwing with you. if you don’t want it, I’ll take it. I’m kinda hungry.

player: but you just said—

brian: I just said I was hungry.

player: why did you choose to work here?

game: not a second passes before you realize how stupid of a question this is.

brian: deadass? yeah, always was my dream to work at a shitty gas station that smelled like piss and mildew, ever since I was little.

player: that’s not what I meant—

brian: it is what you meant, it was just dumb. you don’t have to wiggle your way out of it or anything. everybody’s dumb, i don’t give a shit.

player: everybody’s dumb?

brian: i mean, no one’s figured out how to cure cancer or end world hunger or stop being sick inside and perfectly fine with it. that drives me crazy. we’re all so totally convinced that we’re this higher life form capable of so much more than everything else that breathes, but we’re literally killing ourselves slowly.

player: it doesn’t seem like you’re convinced.

brian: majority rules. i could talk and talk and talk but no one’s really listening. so hand over the jerky, i’ll eat it. I don’t really give a shit anymore.

game: brian tries to take the jerky, but for some reason, your hands refuse to release it.

brian: hm?

game: for the first time in your conversation, he looks genuinely stumped. maybe it’s because he saw you change. you and your dumbass jerky, but you were thinking about this twenty-year-old guy eleven years younger in a sad little rabbit costume.

brian: what do you do for work?

game: god, you hated—

player: god, I hate that question. because when I tell you, you’ll just say “nice,” and the conversation won’t go anywhere. usually I guess I don’t even care if the conversation goes anywhere, but—

brian: I’m an astronaut.

player: you’re an—

brian: I went on a solo mission to the moon, found out it was actually made of cheese, planted a big old flag of my face and hopped around like a crazyperson. your turn.

game: without thinking, you launch into a response.

player: I’m a stage magician. i wear flashy outfits and completely captivate my audience, I make coins and cards disappear, only for you to find them in your pocket.

brian: do you pull rabbit jerky out of your hat?

player: I… I don’t. I’m also an… anti-animal cruelty activist… on the side? and it makes its way into my shows sometimes???

brian: hm. are you popular?

player: I’m… not. I was just an aimless twenty-two-year-old with a drinking problem who wanted to put on a costume and pretend they were making a difference.

brian: if you’re just pretending, why are you still doing it? some part of you still must believe you’re saving peter cottontail.

player: dude, who the hell are you???

brian: brian.

game: with every word the two of you exchange, you feel yourself becoming someone you don’t know.

player: what does it mean to “save” peter cottontail? if there’s a piece of him in all of us, forever being preserved, is that not just another form of brutality? stitching together the body parts we’ve all kept in a mass that barely resembles the original. keeping him alive is just cruel. everything that lives has to die.

brian: so why do you do it? why do you keep him alive?

player: because i’m dumb like everybody else.

brian: so that’s it.

game: taking out a pocket lighter, brian lights a cigarette. if you were the person you were fifteen minutes ago, you’d question him for smoking on the job, or even for not offering you one. but something else comes over you.

player: hey, gimme your lighter, will you?

game: any normal person would question this, but it’s clear you’re not dealing with a normal person.

brian: knock yourself out.

game: he hands it over. you give it a flick and hold the open flame up to the bag of jerky. the plastic starts to melt. brian watches with mild amusement.

brian: …not worried about the fumes?

player: cottontail had his amalgamation of a corpse reanimated cuz us selfish bastards wanted to cuddle. we’ll be fine.

brian: always liked the smell of smoke.

player: …yeah.

brian: I’ll be right back.

game: as the dancing flame creeps up the sides of the bag, brian ducks into one of the aisles and out of sight. you feel like you hear the front door open, but it might just be your imagination. after a few minutes, brian emerges with a tank of gas. he grins as he places it on the counter. he doesn’t look malicious. just excited. you connect the dots.

player: no, no no no no no no—

brian: hm? thought you liked the smell of smoke. and what’s that in your hands?

game: you hastily blow the fire out and drop the lighter on the counter. and suddenly you realize what you’re doing. you’re crazy, nothing changed since you met this guy. you’ll go to work the next day as an accountant, not as a stage magician. everything will fall back into place.

player: no, it’s not like that, see?? you can’t just—

brian: cottontail had it worse.

game: brian picks up his lighter and inspects it.

player: look, I’ll call the cops, I can’t let you do this—

game: but you’re paralyzed. your hand refuses to reach into your pocket for your phone. all you can do is watch as brian pours the liquid. onto the floors. onto the shelves. and onto himself, coating his skin and his clothes. dripping down his pale, scrawny body.

player: what the hell are you doing?! if… if you… you’re gonna die!

game: no shit.

brian: just a little white bunny, stuck behind a goddamn cash register his whole life. cotton-brained. the jaws of that fox don’t look too bad from here.

game: he fidgets with the lighter as he speaks.

player: but… but you…

game: brian grins again, with a sort of bleak resignation. he laughs a little.

(black screen)

brian: do you really think i’m ever gonna get out of this place?

(lighter flick, flames bursting to life)

game: and you’re running. running out to the parking lot, the roaring flames chasing you as your feet strike the ground. once you’re far enough away, you stop to catch your breath. the burning wreckage of the gas station looming behind you, you find a red bag of chips lying on the asphalt. there’s a note attached: “thanks.”

(black screen, sound of chip bag opening, crunching as credits roll)