BUBSY, Chapter One
Blazetail, lost and confused, quietly made his down the rocky path that guided him into the depths of the twolegplace. He looked up at the sky and saw the moon shining down from the sky; his trek into the lands of the twolegs had begun at sunup. He had walked through rows and rows of nests that the twolegs made their home, and had dodged dozens of the metallic monsters that stalked the Thunderpaths. It seemed like this strange, foreign land was going on forever. At this rate, he would never be able to reach the Shoreclan in only two sunrises. He wasn't even sure that he would ever be able to find the Shoreclan. However, Blazetail had to find their camp - the Woodclan depended upon him to do so. It was the only way the clan could be saved.
Despite the necessity and urgency of his journey across the twolegplace, he needed to rest. Luckily for him, he spotted a seemingly empty twolegnest that bordered the long stretch of stone that led further into the twolegplace. The nest, a dilapidated wooden structure surrounded by dead grass, looked like a fairly safe area to sleep for the night; the condition of it led Blazetail to believe it have not been used.
Making his way over the grass and into a small hole that was present in the rotting wood. The moment he entered, a foul smell entered his nostrils, and almost immediately Blazetail gagged. Trying to ignore the awful stench, he continued to walk into the abandoned nest in an attempt to find a resting spot. After squeezing through the hole, he found himself in an odd, enclosed space. Dozens of strange objects filled the area; some were made of wood, some of metal, and some of a strange, fur-like material. Blazetail decided that this could be the perfect spot to sleep until sunup.
That is, until a loud slam disrupted the silence. He looked behind him, and walking across the nest's ground was a twolegs. Panicking, Blazetail darted back out of the hole and into the night, terrified of his encounter.
Meanwhile, a short, orange cat, outfitted in a white t-shirt and walking on two legs, drunkenly made his way to the toilet. Nearly tripping over his own feet, he managed to stumble into his bathroom, put his face over the toilet, and empty the contents of his stomach. After a few minutes of vomiting up everything he had eaten in the past day, he stood up. He slowly walked out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into his bedroom, in which he subsequently passed out on his bed.
Barely conscious after his long, drunken sleep, Bubsy opened his eyes and saw the yellowed, peeling wallpaper on the wall adjacent to his bed.
He then closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep in.
After nearly thirty minutes of doing nothing but lying on the mattress and hoping to fall asleep once again, Bubsy reopened his eyes. He didn't want to have to get up, nor did he want to have to do much else. Sometimes, he wished that he didn't ever have to get up. He wished that he never had to live this life.
Staring at the water-damaged ceiling above himself, the orange feline began to contemplate why he has kept up with his existence.
Why do I keep repeating the same cycle of self-harm?
Why do I still drink even though it's making everything worse?
Why can't I just be useful?
Why am I here?
Why was I born?
Do I even have a purpose?
Bubsy then grabbed the flask of whiskey standing on the end table next to his bed, downed the whole thing, and said "Fuck it."