Diary From The Carrot Union

Chapter 3: #SadRabbit

So hey! Life's just got flipped one-eighty degrees, or maybe my expectations are just so high that I trip and fall headfirst to the cold hard concrete ground of reality check. Now I feel like a fool for getting excited about that damned promotion, but yeah, I guess that's life.

I don't even know why I'm still writing my diary, heh, cause I'm sure I'll be embarrassed if someone read all this thing out loud in front of my eight siblings. Still, hey, I'll probably bust a new cunt wide open on my pants if, by some cosmic reason, Comrade Zero would somehow decide to get me that position.

Heh, enough sulking, but then again, how can you be happy in a city like this? I mean, look around! Shut-down window, horrible draft, and wild hares are eating dusty sunflower seeds and listening to bass-boosted ear raping electronic music on every nook and cranny! It's the city where optimism dies with free condensed depression, that is!

But enough complaining, so anyways, I brought back that blue bottle of alcohol melancholy on my slingback and headed to my local watering hole depressed, as there's nothing else to do other than drink booze in this part around.

The door opened up with a funny creak as I entered the Salad bar pub, the local watering hole and the only place for entertainment in this shithole filled with all kinds of depressed animals. Very relatable indeed.

"Ay, welcome Leon! What would it be today?"
I handed over the vodka bottle, "Give me one of those rocket fuel drinks again and mix it with this vodka. I'll see if I can bust my liver tonight so I can stop living altogether."

I don't quite remember the bartender's a chinchilla called Zolatto or something, Moshare-ian for gold, but she's pretty nice to everyone since we pay her. Other than that, she'll always open up for counselling, as she always needs new material to gossip one way or another.

I'm not in a mood for gossip, so after grabbing back my blue vodka, I sat away on the edge of the table and drank my years away. There were like ten of us right there, but we all sat away on different spots and refused to talk since we're all suspicious of each other being a CGB agent.

"Good evening, Animalia! This is CT-1, bringing you the hottest news from Moshare!"

The usual evening news from the black and white TV is usually nothing more than war stories from the Patriotic War, the great leader Yosif Boneparte, or his daughter-in-law, Elena Boneparte, the so-called Lady of the Proletariat and Animal feminism.

Today it was the latter, and it was abhorrent, as I always hated Elena and her speeches about saving the world, how she declared herself as an animal's lady like her mother-in-law that died in a plane crash, all while wearing glitter and gold.

The way she preached about rabbits with white-coloured fur is inherently racist, how having hamsters as pets is racist, and how eating potatoes is also racist! Like what the feck lady, is eating potato appropriating Peruvian culture or something?

But there she goes with that big cheeky mouth of hers, blabbering about change while her family's responsible for our equal suffering, so yeah, I hate this world, heh, so another shot of vohd-ka!

....

But hey, isn't it just normal to feel depressed with life sometimes? I mean, being sad just makes you appreciate the moments you're happy, right? After all, what is the blanched and heatless sunshine without a thick layer of smog from the factories covering it all up twenty-four seven?

Yeah...Just kidding, heh, being sad just makes you appreciate the moments where you're drunk up until that point where you finally man up to put a noose around your neck.

There was quite a bit of clamour outside and an unexpected buzz in my pockets, so I opened it up and beheld...Is it a text message from Svetlana? Heh, well, it turns out I just ran out of internet quota.

Goddammit...

Well, drown away your problems, I guess, so another shot we go! Yippee!

But that is when someone passes by with a limp, stopping right ahead of me with his buggy eyes.

"Hey, mind if I sit with you, friend?"

A stranger, a young kid, dressed in a conscript's usual olive-green camo uniform and those usually striped army undergarments, but then again, no one has friends here, so what could go wrong, huh?

"Sure," I said without a care, though deep inside, I felt pretty happy to have company.

So the little soldier kid took the seat opposite of me. Soon Ms Zolatto came again with a mug of beer and some non-toxic onion rings.

"Name's Joseph, by the way."

"Hmmm...Leon." I replied.

He was a bright-eyed young buck with floppy ears in the olive-green uniform of a soldier. It no denies that he is a conscript, as the Carrot Union always prefers quantity over quality, and I hate it.

Or maybe I'm just getting sympathetic due to the booze, I don't know...

"Are you okay, sir? Need some help?"

"No worries. Just passed another day."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry about that."

Well, isn't it the first time someone said that, and my drunk mind thought he was genuine, so I just replied, "What about you? Why are you even here?"

"Well, also terrible, I had to sprint a kilometre to fail at the shooting range, the damned gun got jammed all the time, but the sergeant doesn't care, so yeah...That's why I've been limping."

Heh, why would a stranger wind up here to talk to a guy like me? What's the twist, huh? Though yes, a CGB agent possibly? Nah, too innocent, so innocent that I feel rather bad about him.

"Sorry to hear that. Life kind of sucks sometimes, yeah?

"Yeah, though things could get worse anytime soon, it's as if life always finds a way to sneak up to your nether region and shove its noose cock up your ass.

"Heh," I chuckled, funny guy, though.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Joseph, Joseph Weasley, I came from Arstatz, the mining village above Moshare."

"Don't know why you would say it is a village, but sure, nice to meet you!"

Well, why would I have doubts about him? After all, I'm guessing he doesn't have anything to lose hanging around here with me.

Or so that's what I thought, as life never ceases to disappoint me, yet again and again.

"So, Mr Leon, do you believe in God?"

Right...Of course. This was the twist I've been waiting for. This guy's a religious nut, and he's trying to recruit me to his Ponzi-scheme.

So not only does it mean that this guy's intentions are insincere, but it also means that I can be arrested! For you see, the Carrot Union is a godless shithole, and the cats have ensured the only God you need is the Dear Leader, unless you want your balls friend and chopped.

So I sighed and tried bailing off, "feck off, I'm not interested in your commercial religion."

"B-but...But Lord Geode can help you, sir!"

"Yeah, he ain't kid, feck off!"

The boy knows he isn't getting a chance, so he took a fast step right in front of me in an attempt to block me off.

"Feck of kid!"

"No! Please listen to me!"

Blood's boiling, throat itchy, nose runny, I got no time for this.

"Feck OFF!"

"No!"

Then amidst my emotions, I withdrew that blue vodka bottle from my sling bag and swung it right to little Joseph, and the bottle shattered into a dozen shards.

And down the boy goes to the floor.

I tried escaping at that moment, but I found myself quickly arrested after a CGB spy reported that event approximately four minutes and thirty-three seconds later.