THE ABYSS

HEART SANDWICH

1 Nick

My name is Nick Wilde. I'm a 17-year-old that enjoys doing things that involve thinking, and I don't socialize well. Life as it is for me is utterly boring and seems to be going nowhere now that my junior year of high school in Glenwood Saints High is coming to a close. Only three more months until summer break, and only three more months until I can get a job and make money to buy the things I want, or the things I think I want. It seems like such a long time, but in reality, it isn't. The school year went by so fast, just like all of the previous years. I always think when I enter into Glenwood on the first day of another year of high school tenure that it would be long and exceedingly tedious, when in reality it's always the opposite. The days after the first week of school seem to meld together into some kind of forgettable blob wherein nothing of interest happens to me, or to anyone I know, causing all memory of those days to slowly fade into obscurity in my mind. Time goes on, and never stops, and before you know it, BAM! The final exams are right around the corner and you have no clue to what you learned the whole year. Though I manage to pass all of my finals pretty easily, I still have that glaring problem of remembering where I've been in the world, in the limited universe of childhood, and what roads I walked to reach the peak of the mountain of my teenage years.

That's why I began writing so much, I think, to remember here I had been and what I had done. Maybe that's why I'm writing this story right now, to prove that I am real. Maybe it's to document the strange beings that prance about through hallways of tile and white brick, all of whom take to a different culture that has the same meaning; none at all. Or maybe I'm writing to myself, to validate what little I have to my name. But maybe I don't have to do that anymore, given the earlier events of this year. For once in my life interesting stuff happened to me, life became less about going day to day and more about discovery and the magic of the unknown. Both literally and metaphorically.

And in the middle of it all was a strange girl. And by all that is holy is she the most interesting mammal I have ever met.

Her name is Judy. Judy Hopps. She is a bunny Jew that manages to act like a Christian who doesn't believe in god. Or rather, she does, but simply decides to ignore the fact that he exists, because he's apparently done it to us the past thousand years. Judy is a very pretty bunny, (which is weird because I'm a fox and I shouldn't think that... oh well, too late now.) her face is round and cute, her eyes large and a striking amethyst color, and her lips small yet full enough to inspire the urge to kiss her spontaneously. Her body was not thin, as quite a few mammals tend to assume all rabbits are, rather she had a delightful amount of fat on her. Not too much to where she was overweight, but enough to give her a fluffy look, while highlighting the subtle curves her body possessed. And let's not forget that ass. Gods that ass. I wish I wasn't so enamored by it, but I can't help it. The flesh is weak, and I'm all flesh. There are days when I would start to believe in religion, and believe that every mammal was hand crafted by the Lord, all because Judy had decided to wear skinny jeans.

But enough about her ass.

I should start from the beginning, when the first month of my junior year end came to a close, and I had made no effort at all to talk to mammals, instead focusing solely on making sure all my school work was in order. And it was all going great until I realized that I was a solitary guy with no friends who didn't have enough interest in other mammals to change that fact. I was doing good in school, though, so It couldn't matter all that much, could it? It shouldn't have, but at the time I felt a strange loneliness in the pit of my stomach whenever I saw mammals talking to their friends, or hugging on to their kiddie-loves, or walking around with their posse. So, at that point it did matter. I wanted all of what everyone else had, the friends, the girlfriends, the cliques. With that in mind, one could say that Judy coming into my life was the answer to my silent prayers.

We met during midterm testing near a bathroom on the far side of Glenwood, near the math classrooms next to the courtyard. I was coming out of the little gentleman's room after taking a bowel-rattling shit, and just so happened to see her leaning against a wall on the other side of said bathroom, a look of despair on her face. Normally, I wouldn't talk to girls as pretty as her in fear of getting my face bashed in by some brute that she happened to be owned by, but something about Judy drew me to her, like a moth to a flame. I remember slowly approaching the distraught rabbit as if she were going to kill me at any moment simply for existing, taking an almost crab-like stance as I creeped towards her. I was in front of her for a few seconds before she noticed my strange activities and gave me an inquisitive look.

"Uhm... What are you doing?" I immediately destroyed my crab form and reverted back to a normal mammal stance and shrugged.

"I was just going to see what was wrong with you. You looked out of it." Judy had looked at me strangely before scratching her scalp and turning away.

"I am fine," She said, disinterested in whatever conversation I was attempting to start with her. I figured at that point she didn't want to talk to a guy like me; an orange fox, standing 4ft, wearing a baggy hoodie and tattered blue jeans, and a somewhat scraggly figure. I cursed myself under my breath before heading my own way, only to be stopped by the girl calling out to me. I turned back to her, an eyebrow cocked upward.

"What is your name?" She asked me. At that point I wasn't too sure of what I was supposed to do. Usually mammals never wanted to talk to me this long. I would have disappeared by now. Though I wanted friends, desperately so, because of my lack of faith in the good will of mammals, I figured that the girl must have been trying to play me for a fool, but I conceded instantly and gave her my name. It was her damn face. The way she looked up at me, her large amethyst eyes searching mine for an answer before I could give one, and the slight twitch of her nose, practically melted my entire soul at that very moment. I was in her trap, whether she knew it or not, and there was no way my hormone-filled mind could escape it.

"Uhh… it's Nick Wilde," I replied weakly. I cursed myself for sounding so pathetic, but nonetheless I kept a stoic mask plastered on my face.

I was visibly perturbed by Judy, who I did not know as Judy yet then, and could not say anymore, even as she made her way closer to me.

"My name is Judy Hopps. You seem very nice." Confusion practically dripped from my mouth as I stood slack-jawed, vertigo threatening to throw me off balance. Or rather, threatening to throw me even more off balance than I already was. This bunny, I remember thinking, was seeing how far my legs could stretch, and I became far more skeptical of her. There was no other reason she would randomly say something like 'you seem very nice' as soon as she meets me.

"Thanks… I guess? We just met though, I could be an asshole," I said, in an attempt to diffuse the situation with reality. It didn't work, apparently.

"No you aren't. I can tell. And this isn't the first time we met. We talked a month or so ago, at lunch." I raised an eyebrow. Had we? I couldn't recall talking to her or anyone for that matter at lunch last month. Then it hit me. I had asked her for a pencil so I could finish some late work. The fact that Judy had remembered such a small thing like that was alarming, to say the least.

"I remember that. We barely talked though, I just needed a pencil."

"I know." We were both silent for a moment. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone to check the time. I had been gone from class for 15 minutes and needed to get back, or my history teacher would have my neck.

"Well, Judy, it was nice meeting you. I have to get to class. So."

"Ok." Was all she said. I shrugged and turned to leave.

I didn't see Judy again for a week after that point, and I thought of her a lot then. She would often pop into my head from time to time, in the form of small questions and lonely thoughts. I had wondered what she was doing within that week during those times, and I wondered who her friends were and what they all did together. There were times where I even wondered who she was dating, or if she was even dating at all, much to my own ire. The testosterone in me seemed to throw random shit like that into my head at the worst of times, without warning and sometimes without cause. Maybe that's why I originally relished the thought of us meeting back up together after her week-long absence finally came to a close, and I saw her in the hallway with a group of mammals I didn't know. Or rather, she saw me, and I waved at her.

At the time I didn't think she remembered what my name was or who I was. To her, I could have been some random guy who thought she was attractive and wanted her attention. Which, if that was what she was thinking, wouldn't be too far from the truth. I did in fact think that she was attractive, and I did, in some strange way, want her attention, but I still didn't trust her very much. I still had the lingering thought in my head that she was playing with me, and that she would appear with a group of 'popular' girls to laugh at me for thinking that she would ever associate herself with a mammal of my lowly stature. You know, the standard high school drama. Yet she managed to surprise me again.

She waved back.

I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes narrowed. Why didn't she just look away and ignore me, something I was so used to? I would have been slightly upset, but it was still easier to grasp than this. The girl started walking towards me, away from the group she was already a part of. For a moment I pondered whether or not I should turn and walk away from her, preventing any sort of conversation from starting and thus preventing any questions from being asked. Instead I just stared at her as she stopped in front of me.

"Hi Nick."

"Hey." That seemed to offend her for some reason, as if she were hoping for a better reply.

"You did not forget my name, did you?" Ah, that's why. She must have thought I had completely forgotten her existence as soon as I went back to my history class.

In truth, I had, but only for a short while before I remembered her again while eating a sandwich at home some hours later.

"It's Judy, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. I'm glad you did not forget me."

"Okay then… why? We've barely talked."

"You are nice. I want to talk to you more," She replied. I noticed then how she had a strangely quiet expression on her face, one that betrayed nothing but a faint whistle of feeling. Was she always like this? The intrigue engorges.

"Alright that's cool. I guess…" What was I supposed to say then? A hot girl just walked up to me and admitted that she wants to talk to me. And not just talk to me, but talk to me more. That implies multiple talkings, which was a roadway to friendship, no less!

"Do you want to sit with me at lunch?" I didn't know where I got the courage to say this, but I said it, and Judy seemed to be interested. Because she gave a quick 'yes' before turning to look at her friends, probably signaling for them to wait for her, then looked back to me and brought her phone out of her pocket.

"What's your number?" I tell her. She gives me hers and walks back to her group of friends, leaving me slightly confused and a tad bit annoyed.

The bell rung, and I walked to class.

I tapped the desk I sat in idly, anxious to get up and move. I hated sitting in one spot for too long, it irked me in all sorts of directions that I'd rather not go in, and made me crave some kind of activity other than doing the equivalent of office work for an hour. Everyone else around me seemed fine, though. They were chatting with each other and laughing, enjoying the fickle company they had as much as they could, a thing that made me furrow my brow in confusion. They did realize there were more important things to talk about than who fucked who in the school bathroom, or if the school whore gave crabs to Jeremy Smith, the local jockstrap on our football team, right? Obviously they didn't, as they just kept going on and on about these things right in front of the teacher, who had seemingly realized his mistake in becoming one in the first place, and had begun wishing he could go back in time and slap some sense into himself. This was standard fare for my fourth period class. Our teacher, Mr. Michaels, gave out work, and sat at his desk with his legs propped up on it, watching while his students did whatever they wanted with a disgusted look on his face, only getting up when he realized that he needed to actually teach in order to keep his job. And every time he did, much to my surprise, everyone would go quiet and actually listen. He was a strange mammal; not a lot of male deer could pull of the 'grizzled and mysterious' look, yet he managed to it perfectly. He always coming into school wearing cologne that barely masked the smell of alcohol, and always calm, even when students blatantly disrespected him. He was a man that had better things to do, and teaching was not one of those things. I once asked why he continued to teach, even though you can clearly tell from his expensive shoes and watch that he made more money doing other things.

"It's because I'm a prey. I don't know when to quit," Michaels joked, giving me a light push.

"That's a horrible response."

"Ha! You too? My wife said the same thing."

"That should tell you something about the state of your jokes, if your wife has to go on and tell you that they suck." He laughed. Why? I have no clue. I didn't think my response was funny—it was the truth—but there was something in that truth Michaels found entertaining. Or maybe it was how I said it. Or my facial expression when I said it. Whatever it was, it sent him into a fit, and caught the attention of the students in the class room for a moment.

"Ahh… ha ha! That was good. That was good. In all seriousness though…" He leaned forward.

"I teach because I like teaching. I have two jobs. My other job makes me about eight trillion times more money than working here does, but I enjoy this environment. Even the shitty seniors that think they've got the world all figured out, or any brat in this school for that matter. It's enjoyable to watch kids grow, ask questions, and learn. Well. The kids in this class, other than you, not so much. But I think you get my point." And I did. My father had always told me to do something I enjoyed rather than something that just nets me a fat wad of cash, cause at the end of the day it's better to be stuck doing a job you love rather than something you simply tolerate for a paycheck. Then again, most don't have that luxury.

Considering his odd tendencies and seemingly boundless sources for 'tidbits of wisdom', as he put it, Mr. Michaels was my source of information for a plethora of things, his knowledge stretching far beyond what 29-year-old should have, and instead reaching out towards the wise state of being 60. He attributed this to his childhood, in which he said that he was the 'biggest fool of them all', and how he had done some 'serious shit'.

Failure is, in fact, the greatest teacher.

Maybe that was true to an extent, though I believe that failure is an option that can be avoided if a mammal is adept in the field of common sense. Though there are those who severely lack that very thing, a hefty amount of the mammal population can use it properly at least once in their lives. Yet what is common sense? Could it exist without failure? There was obviously no such thing as it when mammals came about, and it didn't seem to come into play until science had arisen from the mind of an Aztec or Mayan with outstanding intelligence. Right? Or maybe none of that matters, and common sense came from the ability to tell what is right and what is wrong. But the subjectiveness of right and wrong disproves that. For example; you can raise a child to be a decent mammal, only for that child to murder someone when they get older. And though that mammal was told since they were young that murder is wrong, they still do it anyway. Intentionally, too. That goes against common sense. Or does it? What do you make of a mammal who believes that crime is common sense, or hiding the body of a victim is common sense? Does that taint its name, or does that further prove the argument of right and wrong?

Even if, at the end of the day, common sense can't be explained through definition, it is exemplified by mammal action. It is the opposite of wrongdoing, yet it can be used for wrongdoing. It is an enemy to the enemy, but remains a close friend with the enemy, fingers crossed behind its back. Or maybe, just maybe, common sense doesn't exist, and it's just the brain doing what it's supposed to do; solve a problem with as little trouble as possible, with minimal consequence.

The bell signaling the end of fourth period tore me out of my thoughtful state, and I realized I had sat tapping my pencil for thirty minutes, doing absolutely nothing but staring off into space. I assumed that no one noticed me doing it, as no comment on the most-likely infernal sounds of wood hitting wood in a quick and sporadic fashion was made. Maybe someone had noticed, on the other hand, but chose not to say anything because they thought I was weird. Which I am. I didn't want anyone else knowing that, though.

I got out of my seat and grabbed my backpack, slowly and methodically heading for my next class. It was upstairs, in a tight hallway that split from the main first floor hallway, and had all white walls instead of white and green like the second floor or white and blue like the primary floor. The hallway was almost always packed with students going back and forth to their respective places during period transition, making the path to fifth period a terribly annoying and time consuming endeavor that I had come to loathe. Being next to others in such a squished manner, with no ways of escape, and with smells you'd rather not smell going into your lungs was not exactly the best situation to be in. Especially if you are me and have a strange hatred for small and crowded spaces with abundant amounts of mammal movement.

My fifth period teacher, Mr. Pfeiffer, teaches history and geography. He was another teacher I got along with and talked to on a regular basis. He was a somewhat lanky zebra with a sharp face and neat with glasses clinging to his snout, not too much of an imposing figure, and someone who looked easy to get by on. But make no mistake, he made up for his less than large appearance with sheer intelligence and some sort of infinite ancient mojo he gained from playing Dungeons and Dragons as a kid, which he used to talk mammals in to doing things they were trying to avoid. It was almost as if he studied psychology—I wouldn't be surprised if he did—with the way he talked mammals into double knots.

Pfeiffer used this skill excellently to convey his points and give new meaning to the material he taught, which honestly makes me wonder why he even bothered to be a History teacher in high school instead of a professor.

With that being said, history is by far my favorite subject, as it is the subject that precedes all subjects—science, math, reading—in its age and importance. Through truths and harsh realities history teaches us not to repeat it, to avoid treading down familiar paths, and instead make new ones. Mammals don't listen to this, of course, and because of that men like Hitler rise to power.

The ones at fault for horrible events such as the Holocaust are not the ones who command terrible things to happen, but those who follow such commands blindly.

History is the opus of man—his autobiography—dating back to the beginning era where the first sabertooth discovered the story telling power of cave art, and continuing on until now, in an age of technological marvel and ever growing social and political strife.

"How was your weekend, guys?" Apparently Mr. Pfeiffer had been having a good day, his happy disposition almost making me want to join in to peak at whatever glee was floating around in his head.

Most of the students in the room answered with either 'good', 'ok', or radio silence. He continued rambling on about things, mostly pertaining to his weekend, where he did something with his daughter and nephew. What it was, I have no idea. I stopped paying attention about twenty seconds into his monologue, instead taking in the room around me, as I usually did. Two chalk boards. One in the front of the classroom to the left of the door leading into the room, and the other on the far right wall, directly next to me. Various posters with quotes from presidents or amendments were hanging around the room, covering up most of the white brick work walls, making the room seem a little less boring. Only by a small margin, though. Pictures of old dead guys and their works doesn't tend to liven up places very much.

"Alrighty then, let's begin the lesson. Open up your textbooks to page 98." Mr. Pfeiffer said, having wrapped up his recalling of past events while I was daydreaming.

History passed by in the blink of an eye, and then came the anticipation of lunch. My hungry stomach called out to the world like a beached whale, desperate for nourishment.

In the heat of the moment, right after the bell rang dismissing fifth, I forgot about everything and only had one thing on my mind; food. I raced passed everyone I could without running, instead choosing to walk faster than the speed of light just to get a burger.

I reached the lunchroom in record time, hoping in one of the short lines to get a burger, the same as usual. Against the tide of the typical hungry teenager, I stood, waiting for my meal in a tight single file line.

Suddenly the lunchroom was no longer a lunchroom; it was a bastion of consumables, a getaway, a brief period of reprisal before the day continued as it should have. I was greatful for this time, and I used it wisely. Often I brought late work to the lunchroom and finished in a strawberry milk fueled rush, cursing myself for my laziness yet commending my own speed as I tore through assignments like they were nothing.

It seemed like the lunchroom was for more than just lunch for me.

I grabbed the food I wanted; a steak burger with fries and a strawberry milk (my favorite school time beverage), as per usual, and made my way to my little slice of heaven. The lunchroom was split into three parts—The food lines, the tables, and the booths. The food lines were exactly as their name entailed; lines to get food. The lunch tables were incredibly long, with about fifteen seats on each side of each table. And last, but not least, the booths. They were corner tables that bent in a ninety degree angle on each side of the cafeteria, save the food line section of course. Groups of girls or club members got together at these little cornerstones to chat and plan, often becoming quite loud in the process. There had also been incidents of sexual misconduct at the booths because of the privacy they allow, but nothing was done to change this. Why? Ask our superintendent.

I just so happen to have a booth to myself, and Oh was it great.

Mammals left me alone when I sat there, giving me the privacy I wanted so I could draw and write in peace, with no prying eyes leaning greedily over my shoulder to poke a curious glance at my works. That had always annoyed me about most mammals. They love to stick their muzzles and snouts in places they don't belong without permission, as if they deserved to be clued in to everyone's secrets in the first place. For some reason they were the center of the universe, the pinnacle of all things, a presence to be lauded. The narcissism grows deep within them, taking over slowly, coming out of the mirror to assume it's real shape.

And so on and so forth.

My brain starts to kick in to overdrive for no reason at the worst of times, leaving me thinking too much about things I don't need to know while thinking too little about things I actually do need. A conundrum I still have not found the cause nor the cure for. I call it a 'bad case of inner monologue' for that very reason.

It happened as I sat down in my usual seat, uncaring of the world around me. I had just picked up my burger when all of a sudden something hit me.

I was supposed to be meeting with a girl right about now, and she most likely has no idea where I am. The lunchroom usually contains hundreds of kids, some of them taking a strange resemblance to me when you can't see them from the front. I remembered that I gave her my phone number and took said device out of my left pocket. I turn the screen on by tapping it. As it turned out, Judy had messaged me already. Multiple times.

11:35am 16087892214: Hello, this is Judy.

11:46am 16087892214: Hello? Nick? Is this the right number?

11:54am 16087892214: Can you answer? Are you busy?

12:01pm 16087892214: I'm heading to lunch.

I lifted an eyebrow. This girl was insistent on talking to me for some reason, and while most guys would quiver in their snakeskin boots to have an attractive female pin after them in such a way, I on the other hand found it creepy and highly disturbing.

I didn't trust Judy at all and felt as if she were playing me for a fool still, trying to cause some melodrama I could care less about. There was still a nagging current in the back of my head, though, a small wave of naivety that wouldn't go away no matter how hard I tried to crush it. I wanted to believe that Judy genuinely wanted to get to know me to a degree, but my better half told me not to put my faith in her, or anyone, for that matter, so I decided against trusting her. For the moment.

But, to not seem like a complete ass, I decided to text her back.

12:07pm Me: Hey Judy, sorry about that. My phone is on silent, and I wasn't paying any attention to it.

I turned my phone to 'vibrate' and placed it on the table and began to eat my lunch, which I had completely forgotten about for a short while. The burger was excellent, but only because I was starving at the moment. Any other time it would have been absolute garbage. School lunches were like that; good when you're hungry, terrible when you aren't.

The sound of a tray being placed on the table I was situated at brought my eyes to the source of the noise and away from the food in front of me. To my surprise it was Judy. Had she gotten my text? She apparently looked for me and spotted me out of the hundreds of other students, so it was possible that she did.

"Hi." She said, sitting down and staring at me intently, her nose twitching.

"Hello."

We stared at each other. It was painfully awkward, the both of us trying to come up with something to say. You'd think that a girl who put a margin of effort into talking to you would have a worth-while conversation prepared already. Apparently, that wasn't true in this case, as Judy seemed more lost for words than I was, and I'm supposed to be the clueless boy in this situation. With that in mind, I got annoyed at her silence pretty quickly, the feeling of distrust bubbling within me once more.

"Why have you taken such an interest in me?" I asked her. The girl gave me an inquisitive look before shrugging her shoulders.

"I think you are nice. I think. I like to think that. Are you nice?"

"Depends on your definition of 'nice'."

"By my definition you are nice. So you must be nice by your definition too." I lifted an eyebrow.

What was she going on about? She didn't seem air-headed, or slow in the mind, I had heard that she was actually quite smart so the fact that she was speaking in what seemed to be chopped up phrases threw me for a loop. A very large one, in fact, a loop I fell off of while still upside down because I wasn't fast enough to complete it.

"You are confusing me."

"I know. It is fun. You are fun. We should hang out more."

I noticed that her facial expression never changed during our strange talk, remaining neutral and unfeeling. What was wrong with this girl? Who had I just gotten myself mixed up with?

"Are you okay? You seem a bit… uh… how do I put this… dead? I don't know." I tried to explain what I saw in her face, her image, but I couldn't seem to properly convey the concept to her, leaving her confused as I was just moments ago.

The silence returned. I stared at Judy, and she turned her eyes to her food. The point of our little meeting was still lost to me, and I didn't think that there was anything to salvage regarding conversation. I looked at my phone. It was 12:19 pm. Only six more minutes of lunch left, then it's back to class. I didn't want to spend those last minutes in silence, so I decided to come up with a topic to chat about with Judy. She beat me to the punch.

"We only have 6 minutes left. We didn't talk much. Though I liked the talking we did do. It was interesting. Care to meet up again tomorrow?" Judy leaned forward, a somewhat hopeful look in her eyes.

"Why not? I sit here every day, so you don't have to worry about me disappearing or anything," I said. Judy nodded.

"Ok. That is nice. Uhm… I have to go. I will text you after school. Bye." Judy quickly grabbed her tray and walked off, looking back once to wave me goodbye.

I remember thinking that she was the strangest girl I had ever met, and that she couldn't get any stranger than she had been during lunch that day. Oh, was I wrong. Why? Because we didn't just meet twice that day, we met three times. The first two times were almost normal, Judy seemed to be a little socially inept. Our third meeting however… if I could say anything about it, I would say that it marked exactly where I stopped being a normal teenager, and Zootopia became a much more evil place.