Diary From The Carrot Union

Chapter 11: #CrushedDreams

Contrary to everyone's expectation, I spent the next couple of hours in front of the porch with a bottle of vodka and the cloudy skies above me, taking in the last of fresh air before the thunderstorm came with its lightning-fast speed, drenching all the balconies and unfortunate people outside.

I don't know what I'm saying.

After all, what's good in the world if you can drink vohd-ka, drench yourself in vohd-ka, then set yourself on fire.

No, Leon, you'll waste good vohd-ka, if you're so keen on committing not alive, just run around in the street naked until a soldier shoots you dead for disrespecting the community!

So I took my packet of Victory-Tobaccos and lits it up, pondering the gloomy pedestrians on the streets with their daily ration of bread and potatoes, up to the buildings above - filled with advertisements, next to that Hoof and Carrot and Animalist Propaganda shit.

And then I heard silence as I emptied my head of what's left of it and blew out the smog for that nicotine fix, as dust from the balcony above rain down upon me - feel the gravelly ashes on my heels, and rainy gusts blowing on my face.

It is going to rain soon. I have to go.

I quickly stomped down the half-lit cigarette and went inside my apartment - the dingy concrete horror a couple of dozen rabbits call home. While it externally looks like a prison, the interior is not that bad...Well...bad, but not as bad as those living in the rural areas, though they got fresh air.

They called us living in this apartment blocs "privileged," and yet the run-down walls. The wild rats and cockroaches that inhabit the nooks and crannies just show how privileged our kind is, as the member of the Animalist Party of the Carrot Union, all. In contrast, the proletariats live in the slums underneath us, made out of corrugated steel and rotten wood, toiling their lives away with cheap vohd-ka and five-dollar sluts.

And it will honestly be a privilege for a rabbit-like me to wander off to the proletariat zones, as party members are sworn celibate and single-mindedly obedient to God and the state - where an act considered tortious would be equal to death.

So my natural hobby in my spare time is to dust off and tidy my room, crack open a cold beer, light up a blunt, and witness the setting of days.

But today is different, as it shall don't get better tomorrow, or forever...

And fuck that Imran guy...

He can't tell me what to do...

So I sat down on my porch across my bed and saw the young pioneers march below to the echoes of patriotic music as the thunderstorm formed and grumbled and rained upon those pure-hearted idiots below me.

I took the gun by my bedside and loaded it up, feeling the cold steel on my temples...I was not ready yet. So I lit one blunt up, took it in, puffed another smoke, and set my eyes close.

Feck, everything and everyone...And here shall I end my story.

....

I felt the Gunbarrel once more on my chin and pulled the tri-

BANG BANG BANG

The sound shook me so much that the bullet went straight to the ceiling before the gun itself dropped from the balcony to the street below as the clouds started to cry raindrops in laughter because I'm such a pushover.

Feck, feck, feck!

I have to retrieve it before anyone sees it, not noticing that the banging sound itself came from the door until the moment I was right in front of it.

I thought my time has come, that the CGB has finally fed up with me, and that they'll take me to room 101 to be tortured and shot. I thought, what could go wrong? So I opened the door and saw nothing in front of me.

"What? Who?"

"Hello!"

I looked down and saw a little grey kit with large brown eyes and a little dress, ears stood up straight and alert, wearing a red scarf around her head like a babushka.

"Ummm, hello sir, my name is Star, Ummm..."

"W-what are you doing here?" I asked dejectedly.

The little rabbit gave me a curious look, until a sudden "bling," of realization appeared on her pupils.

"Oh, here!"

She reached out for the pockets on her dress and gave me a scroll of white paper, a document for adoption which had my name on it.

I never recalled adopting anyone. I felt this was a prank by someone, but looking back at her with that hopeful smile gave me mixed feelings.

"So...Star?"

"I'm Star!" She said back, "Star Hopps!"

"Okay, Little Star Hopps, look I think you're looking for another Leon, yeah? I didn't recall adopting anyone with my consent."

There was a visible disappointment on Star's face, but I thought it better be disappointed now rather than later.

The rumbling of the thunderstorm shook the walls of the building, causing the windows to rattle and Star to flinch, but I couldn't care less."Yeah, that's right, go on now..."

"Okay then..." Star cooed softly, "But can I stay for a while until the thunderstorm's over, though, Mr Leon?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pweaseeee..."

"No, go away."

"B-but..."

But I slammed the door shut and locked it, never looking back in denial, even though the guilt starts to set in, then I thought to myself again, why should I be responsible? And why the feck should I help anyone in this shithole?

....

Feck this, I'm shooting myself again after that.

....

Wait, where's that gun again?

....

Goddammit...