1-2 Bunnies, Bunnies Everywhere

The next few days are pretty predictable for me.  Get up, read the paper, compost it, eat breakfast, etc.  What I don’t get is why I 1) Never see the person/people/things that drop off my paper, and 2) why they are so obsessed with hiding it between my flower bed and this tree/bush thing… I was never one to grow trees or shrubs, even with my gardening experience.  Hardly matters, I guess; whoever gives me my paper is at least helping me out with my garden, if nothing else.

I’m afraid to check my mailbox though, and despite lack of mailman sighting, I know enough that it’s not a fan letter in there.  I’m afraid to look since I know I haven’t got even barely enough to pay whatever bills the residents near and around Arbordale consider ‘fair’.  I decide to stick it to the man and just ignore it for now.

Besides, the only way I could pay my bills anyway is by selling my paintings.  I will admit, I am a total n00b as far as painting is concerned (gardening had always been my thing until I decided to go on this little adventure), so my first painting sells only for $5, which my brother (hereafter named Bro) reluctantly shells out the cash for.  He had insisted I take one of his patented Hyper-Dimensional Space Pockets, which would allow near instantaneous transfer, when in reality anything we put into it is just suspended in time and space.  In reality, Bro takes my paintings, appraises them, then sends the cash backward into time to my point of origin.  Due to possible time-space paradox, it’s definitely not for the average consumer.  As far as the painting goes, I take an Aspiration hit and my ego gets bruised, but I’m fine otherwise.

Selling crappy art takes a lot out of you energy-wise, though, so as soon as it gets dark I plop onto my mattress and snuggle underneath the covers, allowing unconsciousness to overtake me.  I dream of absolutely nothing once again, which is a fairly normal occurrence for me, and wake up sometime after dawn.

I start on my second painting, but not only is it starting out just as crappy as the first, I begin shouting at the sky in frustration.  If only I had someone to vent to! But it’s so isolated here, and upon closer inspection of the last few days I realized I am not in possession of any phone whatsoever.  The only time I can really ‘communicate’ is through notes or messages via the HDPocket, and that doesn’t really do anything for me since I’m so used to talking to people face to face.

I hear a noise downstairs after my small (mental) breakdown on the balcony, but rather than investigate it, as it’s most likely my imagination, I tear the canvas to shreds so that not even the compost bin would want it.  I’m feeling pretty good about this victory until I realize the only person I’ve ‘burned’ is myself, as I created the art in the first place!

Defeated after all, I go downstairs to take a shower, use the restroom, etc.  Then, after a thorough hand-washing (and the sound of hopping all around the house driving me nuts), I go into the kitchen and prepare myself a meal.

It’s in the middle of my meal that the hopping gets louder and louder, until a large, pink bunny suited person hops right into my kitchen.  He/she/it just stands there over my shoulder.  They must understand I don’t like people breathing down my neck, as he/she/it (hereafter referred to as Bunneh) kindly averts their face and stares at nothing particularly interesting on the wall.  I finish my meal in some semblance of piece.  While Bunneh’s hops are rather loud, it’s voice is non-existent, it would seem.

I don’t know if it’s some insane person that’s hopped into my house, or if it’s this Social Bunny I’ve heard about in articles online regarding people and loneliness (some of those studies were rather fascinating), but I decide it hardly matters as I start venting all my issues out on the poor Bunneh.  They just nod, seeming to understand while remaining completely mute, and after I’m finished Bunneh gives me a hug before hopping into the ceiling/sky/wherever.  It’s at this point I realize just how lonely I was, and whether or not I’m actually just dreaming after all.

By now I’ve gotten used to the lack of lighting in the house, and since tonight is a full moon I try a bit of night painting.  My second attempt at my second painting goes far better, painting a picture of a rather nice looking flower.  Bro doesn’t seem to think it’s so nice, but he shells out $25 for it anyway for the effort, as well as giving me several tips on how I can improve.  Bro, on top of being the current heir to the position of CEO, is a well-known art critic, so I take his tips to heart.

Of course, I was so afraid of selling another crappy painting that I still take another hit to my ego and go into full blown ‘Aspiration Failure’, as the experts in psychology call it.  I start laughing at everything and nothing in particular, my brain basically a pile of mush.  Wabbajack…wabbajack… wabbajack…

The bunnies… the bunnies are everywhere, ah hell.  They’re in my kitchen, my living room, my bathroom.  Hell, they’re even in my brainbox beating away at my braindrum with their large devil-spawned feet of loudnessicity.  Wabbajack… wabbajack… wabbajack…

It’s probably entirely my imagination, but some official looking Therapist guy just flies in from the sky using his  nifty little device, and gets to work on my psyche.  After explaining to me that the bunnies are in fact NOT everywhere, and after running me through some yelling exercises to release all my pent-up stress and frustration…

I thank him for snapping me out of my less-than-awesome insanity moment, and with a wink and a nod he uses his device to fly off into the night once again.

Unfortunately he’s no gardener, so I spend a good portion of the remaining night pulling out those nefarious weeds plaguing my only (future) food source.  Curse you,  nature!  Well, the bad side of nature, that is.  Good side is good indeed, and should stay and make me more juicy tomatoes.

Despite my ‘session’ with the ‘therapist’, I’m starting to feel extremely lonesome again even as I prepare an early breakfast of toaster pastries.  Yes, toaster pastries, because I’m some sort of culinary genius, churning out all these dishes of pure awesomesauce, spiced with a dash of epic win and served up on a BOSS platter.  Yes.  Hell yes.  Hell f***ing yes.

As I walk away from the stove with my overly exaggerated breakfast, Bunneh predictably falls out of the ceiling/sky/whatever on his face.  For such big feet that make such loud noises, he really sucks at landing.  But then Bunneh is a bunny, not a cat… I decide Bunneh can wait as I consume my pastry.

After waiting patiently like the good Bunneh he is, I have a small chat with him, asking him questions about where he’s from, why he shows up, and if I’m off my rocker.  His responses, in order, are to point up at the sky, shrug, and then nod his head vigorously.

F*** you Bunneh.  F*** you.  Either way, he eventually hugs me and hops into the Void (yes, that’s much simpler to say), and I’m left all alone to ponder my next move.

…The bunnies… the bunnies are everywhere…

Chapter 1: Starving Artist

• Name: Joseph Zaltari
• Age: 30
• Sign: Libra
• Aspiration: Pleasure
• Occupation: Self-Employed Artist

 

My name is Joseph Zaltari, and I come from a long line of what you might call ‘successful’ businessmen. My father was the CEO of Zaltari Enterprises, a company dedicated to the mass production of next-generation entertainment technology, whatever that means. Basically they made bigger, shinier, and more expensive televisions.

Before my father was the CEO, his father was a CEO, and his father was the CEO before that, etc. It goes back about ten generations or so to the founder, Jericho Zaltari. The business has changed what it does from time to time over the ages, but one thing is always for certain; a Zaltari is to money as a fish is to water.

I’m something of a black sheep in my family; my brother insists I’m insane, and perhaps he’s right. I mean, I moved from Belladonna Cove to the long abandoned Arbordale, with only 100 bucks to my name. My brother insisted that if I was going to go on this ‘soul search’, that I would at least take the lot our grandfather once purchased and used for a ‘retreat’.

I was half expecting to find an empty lot when I arrived, having to fend for myself. But my brother had other plans. Instead of a barren lot on which to build…

 

I found a rather impressive house, though poorly furnished. Grandfather wasn’t one for unnecessary luxuries, it seems.  The whole place has a ‘homey’ feel to it, though I’m not about to judge the house by it’s outside.

I was pleased to find a small garden from which to grow my own food. Arbordale doesn’t exactly have much in the way of a grocery store, at least not that I’m aware of. And while I’m sure I’m the only resident, I’ve heard rumors of a small community hidden somewhere. Who knows if those rumors are true.

Using my knowledge of gardening, I quickly plant a few tomatoes, which reduces my funds from 100 to 28, if you count the fertilizer. I am going to have to find a cheaper way to plant my crops if I plan to survive up here… though if I suffer, my art should thrive, or so they say.

It isn’t long before a visitor arrives and admires my work in the garden. We chat for a bit, and he informs me that there are several people who still live near Arbordale, even if they don’t live where the town once stood, like I’ve chosen to. Apparently my house is on a hiking trail, so while no one lives here but me, I’ll sometimes see people walking by at any given hour. I’m glad to hear this piece of news, as I might just go stir crazy before too long if I’m forced to have minimal contact with the outside world. After my chat with this man, I quickly take a tour of the house.

This is the kitchen and dining room. The dining room is a good example of my grandfather’s ‘practical’ side. He only needed a small table and chair for his meals, and since this house wasn’t used to entertain guests, he was allowed to go on the cheap. I’m glad there’s at least a sink in here, as well as a counter to prepare my meals…

Speaking of which, I take a quick inventory of the fridge. It’s fully stocked, at least, but I can’t rely on it forever. Good thing I’ve started my garden. Hopefully I can last a while until I start getting a steady supply of food. It occurs to me I may need to expand the garden, though, but I won’t be able to do that until I start making some money.

I make myself  a quick sandwich, and lick the plate clean. Bologna, my favorite!

I realize there’s a living room across from the dining/kitchen area. No TV, ironically enough, but there is a loveseat with a bookcase. Grandfather was always content with a good book, while I had always preferred my soaps, er, I mean action movies! Clearly that’s what I was going to say!

The bathroom is rather small, but suitable for a bachelor such as myself. Here’s where I agreed with grandfather in that simpler was better. It wasn’t like I was going to spend my entire life on the toilet… well, unless I eat something spoiled, who knows.

Apparently, this room was where my father spent his childhood, along with his own brother. The toys are a bit old, but still good enough to be played with. Who knows, if I ever have children of my own I could always use them!

Ah, the nursery. There’s only one crib, as my father was the youngest of the two siblings, so grandfather was able to use this crib as a ‘hand-me-down’ for my father. Again, some old toys are lying around. I name the bear Mr. Waffles. Why not?

And then I come to what used to be grandfather’s room. It’s simple, yet somehow elegant I guess. It’s good enough for me, at any rate. And those glass doors…

They lead to the balcony outside, just like the other glass doors near the staircase. I knew there was a balcony but I’d had no idea it wrapped around from the front to the master bedroom! This may save me a bit of travel time when I go to my easel, which my brother was kind enough to transport from home. He agreed to buy any art I may send him, of course. Though he’s not going to do me any favors and give me more than I’ve earned! I’m curious about the telescope, though. It wasn’t grandfather’s, and it’s not mine or my brother’s…

I decide to leave it alone for now. I didn’t know I’d be getting a newspaper way out here, but apparently word’s already spread that I’m living in the old Zaltari residence. I quickly check the weather forecast for today, then decide to compost it.

Looks like I’ve found a cheap source of fuel for my garden… I plant another tomato to celebrate. It reduces my funds to 20. I better finish a few paintings, or something…

After all that, I decide to start my first painting. I like this balcony already, as I can not only draw upon my surroundings for inspiration, but keep an eye on my garden as well (and use it for inspiration should the muse hit me).

It soon gets a bit too dark to work on my painting, so I decide to investigate the telescope that shares the balcony with my easel. It’s pretty fancy, and when I look through it, I can see so many stars… I may use this as another source of inspiration, even!

Wow, I never knew how clear the skies in Arbordale were. I suppose that’s only natural, when there are no cars, no city lights, and no pollution. I’m thirty, but I feel like I’m a teenager all over again.

Well almost a teenager. I certainly don’t have the endurance I once had, and I quickly get a kink in my neck. It’s getting late anyway, so I should be turning in.

There’s some pajamas in the drawers, so I slip them on, take my shirt off, and get into the bed. While the frame belonged to my grandfather, my brother kindly decided to take my bedsheets from home along with my old mattress. I quickly fall asleep.

The next day, I know I’m going to have to tend to my small garden. Die, foul weeds, die! I randomly pull and twist until the tomatoes are free from their evil clutches. Then I water them, rewarding for their survival. Zaltari & Garden 1, Weeds 0.

Oof, that took a lot out of me. I decide to lounge around on the loveseat. I’ve still got a twinge in my neck, but not as bad as last night.

I suddenly realize this is going to be a lot harder than I thought.