Chapter three
Hunting season
A ringing in my head.
I feel at… home?
My eyes are open to the soft blue sky, and it's absolutely beautiful. The clouds sort of fade into the blue, as if it's all connected. It's early; that's obvious. The sun shines in my peripherals, causing me to squint, and tilt my head back. My bill acts as a reverse cap, and casts a shadow across my eyes, making the sky easier to look at.
And for what seems like the first time ever, I feel secured. I feel perfect; universal oneness. Is this possible? Can it truly be reached? It sure feels like it. I haven't a care in the world, or a thought in my head and I feel…………….
What's that noise? A rustling of sorts and it sounds like it's coming towards me. With each step, peace is disrupted, and knocked further and further away.
Getting closer. I stop breathing.
All of a sudden, a bird flies into my line of view. I am relieved, and let out a long sigh, and suddenly a bang startles me. My peaceful state is snapped in two as the bird explodes, and its remains fall back down to the cold reality of it all. My heart rate quickens, and my eyes widen.
"Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh"
Oh god. I know that laugh from anywhere. I can't see him, buried under all this tall grass, but that's Elmer Fudd. Of all fucking people.
His form enters my line of site through the tall grass. He's to my upper left; he doesn't see me. He doesn't even know I'm here. He's slowly making his way along my left side, and my heart is pounding in my chest. He isn't even aware of my presence as he stops almost a yard beneath my feet.
Looking around frantically, I see a rock to my right. A big one. As quietly as possible, my head slowly rises from the earth, above the grass. Grabbing the big stone, I first use it to support my weight.
It's unbelievably heavy. It takes all my strength to lift it over my head, rear back, stumble forward three steps, and let the rocks momentum take it's course. It seemed ol' Elmer turned around just in time to get his face smashed in, the rock knocking his head back at an angle, and falling heavily on the grass before us. His shotgun falling from his unconscious hand onto the shore, as he limply fall into the shallow water behind him.
The biggest gash I've ever seen; a split from where his hairline would be, all the way to his mangled nose bridge. Blood clouds as he hits the clear water.
Straining, I pick up the rock, and hurl it onto the water, on top of him. It splashes droplets onto my feet, and pins him down. Bubbles surface, but he doesn't move.
I sigh, and pluck the double barrel shotgun from the tall grass. Turning away, there's no room for reflection. No time to look back. It's too late for any of that.
I must have called Daffy like twelve times before I decided to just come over here. His crappy wooden place out in the middle of nowhere. A long, curvy pathway leads to his home, and it's lined entirely with trees on each side. The limbs hang over the trail, and meet one another, creating a sort of natural tunnel, so to speak.
The constant crickets chirping is starting to get on my nerves. Maybe I was just pissed off already. I don't care. I want to silence any living creature I can get my hands on right now.
Approaching his house, I stuff my hands into my sweater pocket. Stepping up onto the old, rickety wooden porch, boards creaking under my every step, I knock a few times on the screen door.
Silence. Except for those fucking crickets.
Open the screen, and pound as hard as I can on the old, brown door.
Just anticipating his answer. He opens the door, and says something like HEY BUGS, and I say something like HEY DAFFY, I JUST NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING IMPORTANT REAL QUICK, and he'll invite me in, and
Silence.
I go to turn the doorknob, but in my head I'm thinking to myself; it can't be this easy.
But it is.
And the doorknob turns
and the door pushes open.
And I call out to the darkness in his seemingly desolate house.
"Daffy?"
"Did you set off his collar?"
"No, sir. He hasn't been influenced by us since we replaced him on earth."
"Hmm… strange"
"What is it?"
"Subject 2236 has committed a murder without the aide of his collar."
"In what manner?"
"Smashed a hunter on the head with a large stone."
"Interesting."
"This is being recorded, right?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good. I want him monitored at all times from here on out. I want his every move recorded and studied. Am I clear?"
"As an azure sky, sir."
"Excellent."
I'm beginning to grow fond of this test subject. This is more entertaining than I had initially imagined.
I don't know what the hell is going on. I honestly couldn't tell you. How the fuck could I just kill him like that.. I
God.
Clutching the shotgun tightly underneath my coat, I make my way in the rough direction of my house. I need to just go home, and shut myself away for a while. To make things worse, my fucking neck has been killing this whole time.
Fuck, how long has it been? A day? Two?
Porky… Oh, fuck man. Porky. Is he really…?
When was that? Did it even happen? This all seems like some nightmare, some horrible dream I can't escape. I just want to wake up in my own bed, but instead, I trudge blindly forward towards it.
Wake up, Daffy. Just fucking wake up.
You can hear the fucking crickets from inside his house. I've been waiting here since around four, and it's eight. Nothing but the constant chirping of those infernal insects to keep me company. My head is pounding; a ringing in my head, if you will.
Just hurry up, Daffy. Christ, what in god's name are you doing?
Don't you ever come home?
I'm sitting in his dirty armchair on the opposite side of the room as the front door. I've checked the house; nothing useful, really. I'm left to my own devices. The pocket knife I brought should be sufficient.
A sigh escapes my lips, and for the first time I notice I've been holding my breath. I feel a bit light headed. Dizzy, perhaps.
Thud.
Shit. Jump to my feet, and slink towards the door.
Showtime.
Stumble onto my porch, stubbing my foot on the top step, and staggering to the door. It's been a long fucking day.
I'm so tired. I'm so thirsty. I need sustenance. I need rest.
Clutching the shotgun tightly in my right hand, I snake my way between the door and the screen; the screen half open, my body weight resting upon the dry, splintering wood.
I feel trashed; I feel like Lola did. Hah. That's not funny at all.
Turning the knob, my weight pushes the door open. Holding the shotgun somewhat limply out in front of me with my right hand, I step into the darkness that is my home, and
Suddenly there's an instant of intense pain in my side, and without even meaning to my finger wraps tightly around the trigger, causing a loud BANG and a flash of light. In this instant I can't see anything, and my ears are ringing from the loud noise, as my body falls backwards into the wall.
I feel the light switch jabbing into my back, so I push my feet against the floor beneath me, flipping the switch with my back.
And then there was light.
And the first thing I notice is all the blood on the floor.
And the second thing I notice is Bugs Bunny rolling around in it.
And the third thing I notice is the fact that his leg has been removed at the knee, by a shitload of little lead pellets that came out of the gun I'm holding.
And the fourth thing I notice is the knife in the side of my stomach. I grasp the handle firmly, and hesitantly pull out what feels like a foot or so of metal out of my stomach. Blood runs down my left knee.
"Bugs?"
And he looks up at me, with those wide eyes of his. He's in shock. He either doesn't know what to say, or he couldn't even if he did. He chokes out some incoherent sounds. I don't know what to think.
My friend. My own friend.
"Bugs…?"
He just stares at me, and I start limping towards him, a new wave of blood gushing out with each step. I couldn't kill him now. Not like this. Jesus, I.. fuck.
Please be okay, Bugs. Just hold in there.
And suddenly the phone rings. This sends a jolt from my spinal cord to my head. The gun is brought up to his face, and t- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - --m - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- -- - - -- -- - -- e - - - - - - s- - - - - - - t- - - - - - - - - - o- - - - - -- - -- p - - - - - - - - - s - - - - a- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -s - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I- - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -p - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - u- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -l - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - l- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -t - - - - - h- - - - e- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - t- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -r - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -i - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -g - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -ger, and his brains spray all over the white chair behind him.
Oh god!
Oh fuck!
What the fuck am I going to do now?
Concept conceived by Tha Kalligrapha
Concept aborted by cornwallace.