The morning sun provides some warmth on Jayson's back as his filthy fingers rummage through the refuse with practiced ease. Wrappers and old paper crinkle from his shifting, releasing clouds of rotten stench that no longer phase him. Soda cans clink and clank and bottle caps click against each other as he tosses them into the burlap sack laying open at his feet. His fingers move with surgical precision and his eyes flick to and fro, scanning the trash for more signs of precious scrap metals.
***
Across the street, Lexia sits behind a bench, her large frame is clad in her home-made armor coupled with her bazooka and mismatched fur serving as useless camouflage. Passing pedestrians give quick glances at her but keep on moving without saying a word or tugging their child away before they can pester the harlequin-hare.
With a notebook in one hand, and satellite audio observation device in the other, she madly scribbles her notes, risking only a second at a time to make sure her letters are on the pink lines. For today she is not Lexia Hartwick the Bazooka Bunny. Today she is Dr. Lexia Hartwick, scientist extraordinaire, on a mission to collect data on Jaysonious Hopperificicus.
***
Jayson keeps to his task. He sees Lexia spying on him from across the street but ignores her. He's on a mission and she is clearly bored. So far, no trouble has come from the fixers or any of Mama Bear’s weaker associates, so they have nothing better to do. Besides, she's still on her side, so even if he wanted to do something to her, he can't.
Jayson clutches his bag tightly and walks down the sidewalk to the next public garbage can. He pulls off its lid and starts sifting through it, the crinkles, clatters and clangs of his rummaging a tuneless symphony to the hellish city around them. Bottle caps, soda bottles, and some spoons are tossed in his sack, and he glances up to see Lexia hiding by a tree, aiming her little satellite at him.
Jayson rolls his eyes and resumes digging. But pauses for a moment, and then grins as he pulls out a half-eaten black bean burrito.
“Nice,” hisses Jayson to himself. He looks at Lexia and takes a massive bite from it and shudders at the delicious taste of cold beans and old zesty ranch and lettuce. He can see Lexia’s eye twitching, and he grins with his lips sealed tight to hold the food as he sets his new meal down on some paper. After that, he continues plucking caps, cans, tabs, paperclips, and bits of small metal from the trash.
***
Across the street, Lexia keeps watching, and scribbles in her notes:
‘Dr. Lexia Hartwick log #12345.
Jaysonious Hopperificicus is still digging through the trash. He's pretending not to notice me, but I know he knows I'm watching. This is probably why he's not acting like a total weirdo this time. Unlike last time at the movie theater when he talked to his dead wife. (Note to self, ask about that when given the opportunity and don't be weird about it)
Jaysonious Hopperificicus is still digging through the trash. He likes burritos. Which is gross. Everyone knows a taco is better. Now if he'd talk to his dead wife again so I can get a transcript that'd be great.’
Lexia stops writing and rubs the sweat from her face. Then casts an annoyed glare at the cloudless, cracked afternoon sky.
***
The sun keeps rising, warped beyond the cracks and casting its relentless heat across the littered pavement. And across the street, Jayson's bag grows heavy, a satisfactory weight that promises food from the value menu. He even snags a few crinkled coupons that have a few days left on them.
One is for Samantha's Spa. Another for Arty’s Arcade. And then there's a few for Taco King and the Sam and Mann Supermarket. All stained with old mustard.
Jayson smirks, folds the spa coupon into a paper airplane and throws it across the street. The tiny air currents carry it over the road, and the paper craft does a twirl, a dive, and lands in Lexia's hair.
He snickers and goes back to his rummaging while Lexia plucks the nasty coupon out of her hair.
“Dang it, Jayson! I just washed my hair this morning!” shouts Lexia.
Jayson gives a silent thumbs up without looking at her as he continues his scavenging.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
***
Back at Lexia, she studies the filthy coupon that got stuck in her hair.
‘Are you a grumpy bunny? Do people think you stink? Has stress made you hideous? Come on down to Samantha’s Spa for a Super-Duper Deep Cleaning Mega Pampering Session!’
Below that message is the discount. 5% off the session, which includes manicure, pedicure, full body massages, mud bath, steam room, and deep cleaning.
Lexia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Very funny, Jayson.”
She looks across the street, sees he isn't looking at her, so she quickly stuffs it in her knife sheath before continuing her observation. It starts off well. Then a shadow looms over her.
Lexia stiffens and slowly turns her head to see Derrick staring down at her, holding a large cooler and beach umbrella with his rifle on his back, and wearing a light-colored flowery shirt. In his beak is a lit cigarette.
"What are you doing, Lexia?" says Derrick, his voice tinged with disapproval.
"Research," says Lexia. She flicks her eyes up and down Derrick's outfit and sneers when she sees sandals and socks on his feet. “What are you wearing and why are you wearing it?”
"You look like you're spying."
“It's not spying. It's research.”
Derrick looks over her shoulder, his large eyes scanning her scribbles.
"You trying to figure out what to get Jayson for All Lover's Eve? A bit early for that," says Derrick.
"There’s no Lover’s Eve about it!" snaps Lexia, her hand snapping over the page. "Jayson claims he talks to his dead wife, so I was trying to see how often he does that."
She looks back across the street, but sees that Jayson is gone, and she huffs and slaps her notebook against her thigh.
“Great. He wandered off. Thanks a lot, Derrick,” says Lexia.
"No problem," says Derrick. "Meet me at the Bliss Town Reservoir.”
“Why?”
“We're taking a break today. Swimming, hotdogs, living life. Good stuff to make good memories since you and Jayson have had a rough few days.”
"Breaks are for the weak," claims Lexia.
A red tint takes over Derrick’s pupils as he narrows his eyes, and the area darkens around them. Lexia smiles nervously and stands up, holding her notebook and audio spy equipment close to her.
“I mean, I'll get my bathing suit,” says Lexia.
The area brightens, and a small smile tugs at the edge of Derrick's beak.
“Good. I'll get Jayson,” says Derrick.
Then he flies off, and Lexia deflates with a heavy sigh and trudges away.
“Man, I'm surrounded by weirdos,” says Lexia to herself.
***
Jayson walks down the sidewalk, bag slung over his shoulder and a wordless hum vibrating in his throat. He passes graffiti and bullet holes on the walls of old buildings, and he turns into an alley and goes to a dumpster with phone numbers and doodles marking its peeling green paint. He flips the lid open, props it up with an old piece of wood from a broken pallet, and climbs in.
After a few minutes of rummaging and tossing out bent cans of various origins, bottle caps, and other small metal pieces, he hops out, just to come nearly face to face with Derrick. The sudden appearance makes him jump back and clutch his wooden weapon’s hilt, but he quickly relaxes and takes a deep breath to steady his racing heart.
“Jeeze Derrick, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Jayson then notices the supplies in Derrick’s hands, and the colorful flowers shirt he's wearing. Then his eyes lock on to the socks and sandals. “What's with the… stuff?”
“Reservoir day,” says Derrick.
“Oh, nice. Well, have fun with that.”
“You're coming.”
Jayson kneels down and starts tossing his findings in his bag. “Can’t. I have scrap metal to sell.”
“The scrap metal place doesn't close until nine pm.”
“I also hate sand.”
“Since when?”
“Always.”
“You sleep in dirt.”
“Which is different from sand.”
“Jayson, you need to relax because you and Lexia have had a rough streak. So, if I don't see you at the reservoir to have fun and unwind by the time I am finished cooking these hotdogs, I will find you, I will drag you to the reservoir, and I will dunk you. Are we clear?”
Jayson stares at Derrick with wide eyes and tight lips, and Derrick stares back with narrowed red eyes and a dark aura around him. Several seconds pass, and Jayson flips a thumbs up.
“I'll be there,” says Jayson.
The world brightens and Derrick smiles.
“Good,” says Derrick.
Then he flies away, and Jayson exhales and runs his gunky fingers through his filthy hair.
“Well… That just happened,” says Jayson.
----------------------------------------
Computer keys and mouse buttons clicked loudly in Claribel's room. Her red reptilian eyes focused intently on the screen as her mouse avatar, Ms. Fritz Bee, hopped along the blocky landscape and furiously mined the gold shaped blocks. The clanging and breaking stone floods her ears from the headset on her head.
She is focused.
She is lost in her world.
She is yanked off her chair, tugging the headphones out of the jack, and put airborne. She yells as she lands on her back on the bed and Mortimer jumps on top of her, trapping her between his arms and legs with a wide, sharp toothed grin on his burnt face. Claribel's shocked expression reflects back on her from Mortimer’s wide, sparkly eyes, his muzzle a mere inch from hers and his hands and feet dig into the mattress, locking him while Claribel has her hands pressed against his chest.
“Mortimer, are you trying to get bit!” says Claribel.
“Lets go to the reservoir, Claribel!” says Mortimer, his large fox tail wagging and completely unconcerned about the threat of venom being injected.
“What?”
Mortimer sits on Claribel's lap and takes out a flyer advertising a crystal-clear body of water with lush trees and happy people cooking on grills and swimming, all under a bright, sunny, cracked sky.
“The Bliss Town Reservoir has everything we need to relax. Water, food court, shade, free grills!” Mortimer crunches the flyer in his hand as he sighs whimsically. “I can relive my time as the swimming champion.”
Claribel props herself up on her elbows. “Mortimer, are you trying to calm yourself down after talking to Thaddeus?”
“Psh. Of course not. He doesn't scare me at all. But!” Mortimer grabs Claribel's shoulders and goes muzzle to muzzle with her again. “We do need to unwind after the nightmare we've been through trying to get rid of the Hobo Warrior Bunny and Bazooka Bunny.”
“But my game…” says Claribel, her eyes shifting to her monitor just in time to see her avatar get swarmed by spiders and die. Her avatar disappears in a puff of colorful smoke, leaving a tombstone behind. Claribel frowns at that. “And now she's dead.”
“Relax, your character respawns, but life does not. When the moment is gone, it is gone forever. So, come on and live this moment with me. Please!” says Mortimer.
Claribel looks at Mortimer again, and his smile does a poor job of hiding the desperation and he swishes his tail against hers. Her frown holds. His smile strains. Seconds tick by, and she sighs heavily and flops on her back.
“Fine,” says Claribel.
“Yes!” Mortimer kisses Claribel's lips and scampers away. “Funness here we come!”
The door slams shut, and Claribel stays on her back, blushing in silence.