❀ 01

[truffulacide]

A. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]

[before the Once-ler even opens his eyes, the first thing that immediately occurs to him is how fresh the air is.

even when he's straddling the border between the waking world and his dream world, it's immediately apparent. sleeping, such as it is, isn't easy to accomplish anymore. it's always fitful and restless and not really sleep at all; light napping would be more accurate. once, all he had to do was bury himself under his quilt and concentrate on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull himself into unconsciousness. it's a little more difficult now. his breathing isn't so steady anymore; it's hoarse and when he coughs it feels like his throat's splitting apart. the air's too sour and smoggy to inhale without launching into a fit of hacking and spitting, but like most things these days, he's gotten used to it. you didn't even need willpower to force yourself to accept things anymore - all you had to do was give up.

he's lived in the valley long enough for his body to grow accustomed to the air, so naturally it senses that something is very wrong here before his mind even registers the fact. buried under his blanket with his legs sticking out in uncomfortable directions (and wow, did he outgrow his bed or did it somehow shrink?), he yawns and smacks his lips together noisily, a little trickle of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. he really must've been exhausted because, gosh, he can't remember sleeping this well since - well, since -

since the trees were still -

...wait. waitwaitwaaaait - was it sunny?

the Once-ler's eyes flutter a little before wrenching themselves open completely and he confirms within the rough span of five seconds that, yes, it is sunny and no, he isn't in his room. and this DEFINITELY isn't his bed, it's smells like fresh soap and cotton and it's way too cramped like... like...

what. the. heck.

he slowly turns over on his side and all it takes is the sight of the woman's blond head for him to bolt upright in bed and shriek at the top of his lungs.]


B. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]

[lovely day, ain't it? maybe you're on your way to work. maybe you're a girl scout making your rounds. maybe you're just out for a walk, looking to stretch your legs and take in Mayfield properly before the powers-that-be go nuts and end up putting a damper on what could otherwise be a very nice week.

if you're expecting a relaxing morning, you definitely shouldn't pass 917. really, you shouldn't.]

- Hey!

[this is why.

even if you don't hear it the first time, that single word is repeated with a little more urgency (and a little more whining) until you give in and follow it to the source, which just happens to be the mail slot of this particular house.

the slot is open and a pair of blue eyes are peering out, looking straight at you.]

Yeah, you! Get over here!

Comments

[werejew]

Yeah. About that?

Not so much leaving going on here. Brainwashing? Yeah, we got a metric fuckton of that shit. Actual leaving? No.

[truffulacide]

Brain...Brainwashing? [you can practically hear his face whitening.]

That's... Come on, you don't expect me to believe that. [he forces a nervous laugh.] That stuff only happens in comic books and horror movies. It's not... It's not real.

[werejew]

This place is fucking real as balls, dude.

As balls.

[truffulacide]

And wow, wouldn't you know it, it still doesn't make any sense! If half the town's brainwashed, then...

[suddenly accusatory!]

...How do I know that you're not one of them?

[werejew]

Dude, all the brainwashed people here think they really do live in some fucked-up '50s suburbian bullshit.

Does that even sound like me?

[truffulacide]

You could be faking it. I've never even seen a zombie before, but if stuff like this is happening, I don't think it's a big stretch to see one of 'em thinking that they could pull something this cunning off.

[werejew]

Well, I'm not, and I'm definitely not a zombie, but some of my best friends are.

[truffulacide]

[he's starting to get the feeling that she might be right. a zombie wouldn't be this mouthy.]

Sorry to hear that. I've never had the honor of meeting one, so I wouldn't know how lucky or unlucky you are.

...So, you gonna give me your name anytime soon?

[werejew]

Totally lucky; she's super cute. [THIS IS NOT WEIRD AT ALL]

Oh, yeah, right. Annie Goldstein. You could, like, give me yours or some shit, but I'm basically gonna call you whatever the fuck I want.

[truffulacide]

Bet wherever she goes she's the life of the party.

- Orrrr you could just call me the Once-ler. It's much more original than whatever you'd come up with, I bet. Grosshead Blunderbutt or whatever filthy stuff your sense of humor will allow.

[werejew]

No, she's a nerd, nerds don't go to parties. [/doesn't get jokes]

... Once... ler... [pause] That's not your real name.

[truffulacide]

I go to parties.

Of course it is. [man, he should be used to this.] It's always been my name.

[werejew]

Nerd parties, maybe.

Are you an elf? Elves have weird-ass names. Like "Once-ler."

[truffulacide]

[his ego, while bruised a great deal and whittled down to a bare nub, flares up.] Replace "nerd" with "high-class and elegant" and I'd agree with you.

What? No! I'm not an elf! I'm human and my name's not that weird!

[werejew]

That sounds pretty fucking nerdy to me, dude.

Whoa, weird, humans usually have pretty fucking normal names.

[truffulacide]

Of course you'd say that. I bet you've never even been to one.

I'd like to think it's unique. I guarantee you'll never meet another Once-ler except for me.

[...]

...And if you did, that would sort of suck really hard for me, so. Here's to hoping you won't.

[werejew]

No, I totally have, and they're totally fucking nerdy. [but they have good snacks so she mostly just inhales those while her girlfriend looks on in mild shame]

Yeah, I probably won't... Also, just FYI, most people here who have a "The" at the beginning of their name? End up being totally fucking evil.

So, like. Fair warning.

[truffulacide]

No, they're sophisticated. You just need to learn how to appreciate them. [...yeah, that's a load of crap. he only threw them because either a) his mother was pressuring him, or b) he needed an excuse to get in the press' good graces. one or the other.]

...Ah. [he glances downwards, downcast. thanks for hitting a nerve, Annie.] Yeah, I... I think I heard about that. There's two guys like that, isn't there?

[werejew]

I don't need no sophisticated bullshit.

[just not noticing at all] Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about anybody but the one! That's the Major. He's a dick.

[truffulacide]

Just don't expect to see yourself on TV anytime soon.

What's he done that's so bad? This kid said that all he talked about was war.

[werejew]

... Yeah, just leaving out the whole "he's a Nazi who tortures and kills people" thing?

Stupid fucking kids.

[truffulacide]

[...and yet, somehow, he isn't surprised. must be the whole "this is the umpteenth time he's heard something involving murder/maiming/torture" today.]

Yeeeah. Lovable scamp. If you see him, make sure there aren't any sharp or pointy sticks around

So... If he knows this guy's bad news and you know it and - man, I'd wager half the town knows by now, then why hasn't anyone ganged up on him yet? I was under the impression that anyone who acted out was brainwashed. By all accounts, this guy should be a vegetable.

[werejew]

Yeah, to the town? "Don't act out" is more like "don't fight us, who gives a fuck what you do to the rest of these fucks." They don't care; they made the fucker a cop.

And I see him every day. You get used to it.

[truffulacide]

Their logic doesn't even make sense. If they can brainwash people at a whim, why didn't they just do it to us when we woke up here? Seems kind of silly to expect us to place nice for them just 'cause they say so.

What's he look like?

[werejew]

Fuck if I know. They're fucking crazy.

Um... Like a big fat Nazi robot?